Certain topics command attention on the international documentary scene, with sexual harassment undoubtedly among the top three. Connect it to an Arab country and the added bonus of knee jerk orientalism makes for an irresistible pull, far stronger than any cinematic or even ethical consideration. That was true with Samaher Alqadi’s deeply flawed As I Want, and it’s equally the case with Under the Sky of Damascus, a slapdash exercise in “topic-of-the-moment” manipulation whose shoddy structure and dreadful use of music are just two of the film’s glaring problems. For directors Heba Khaled and Talal Derki, the goal was to draw attention to violence against women in Syria, but since their anti-regime stance precluded them from entering the country, they brought onboard Ali Wajeeh, whose questionable contribution, not to mention the exploitative way the documentary treats a group of young women drawing attention to the issue, should be raising red flags. Instead, the film was awarded the top prize at the Thessaloniki Documentary Festival following its premiere at the Berlinale.
Derki’s documentaries – The Return to Homs, Of Fathers and Sons – received acclaim even outside the festival circuit for their exceptional visual style and well-calibrated sense of drama, notwithstanding the nagging sense that many of the scenes were at least partially staged. Though shot by a different cinematographer, Under the Sky of Damascus also boasts perfectly lit, attractive images, but that’s the only smooth element here, and blame can’t be placed entirely on the sudden shift in focus about halfway. One of the stumbling blocks is that co-director Heba Khaled’s script (she’s also heard in voiceover) is uncertain of itself and what it wants to achieve apart from calling attention to the very real problem of sexual harassment and the limitations placed on women in Syria.
Another sticking point, albeit extratextual, is the third director, Ali Wajeeh, whose full name is Ali Wajeeh al-Assad. No one should ever be tarred for being related to a dictator (Wajeeh and Bashar al-Assad are cousins), but filming within Syria is a tricky business, and it doesn’t take a Middle East expert to figure out that only someone well-connected could have gotten permits for drone shots over Damascus, among other logistical feats accorded only to those greenlit by the regime. Khaled and Derki needed to be upfront about their teammate from the start, but it was left to Anna-Theresa Bachmann in Der Spiegel to reveal Wajeeh’s connections. “What is the moral price for intimate insights into the inner workings of a repressively governed state?” asks Bachmann, and indeed not only is this question never entertained, it’s deliberately cloaked.
Even if we discounted this as a problem, there remain multiple concerns, beginning with the documentary’s structure. It starts promisingly with actress Farah Al Dbyaat interviewing former star Sabah Al Salem shortly after her release from prison in 2020, following many years in solitary confinement. We’re never clear why Salem was thrown into jail – viewers assume it was because she refused to submit to sexual harassment, though non-Syrian news sources suggest she was tricked into a heroin addiction in order to keep her quiet about corruption. Prison clearly destroyed this woman and it’s painful to see the toll incarceration has taken, yet the directors fail to convincingly connect her case with the rest of the movie.
Farah, Souhir Saleh, Eliana Saad, Inana Rashed and Grace Al Ahmar are young women banding together to stage a play addressing sexual exploitation in Syria. They’re young, stylish and attractive, from relatively privileged backgrounds, and all have experienced harassment in various forms. They rent a fabulous space in an abandoned building (we’re never told how this came about nor where the money comes from) and they start workshopping ideas while interviewing working-class women about how they’ve been affected by the nation’s toxic gender imbalance. As edited together, the disturbing accounts are frustratingly brief and compiled in an arbitrary way, disconnected from Sabah Al Salem’s experiences and appearing to be little more than unprocessed random oral histories. Absent is any discussion of how the civil war has intensified violence against women and no mention is made of class/clan distinctions and how they affect the power dynamic.
Then out of the blue Eliana quits the project, claiming her boyfriend forced her to bow out. Khaled and Derki fly the remaining women to Beirut for a confab – there’s no acknowledgement of just how privileged they all are to be able to do this. After pushing their subjects, it’s revealed that the documentary’s line producer, Adel, was sexually abusing not just Eliana but also Inana, using his position of power to harass and intimidate. Naturally the directors immediately fire Adel and then use this concrete example of gender-based violence as a focal point to their otherwise amorphous project.
Khaled, Derki and Wajeeh could be forgiven for lacking a real sense of direction when they began the shoot; it’s a huge topic, and there are so many noxious alleyways to pursue that it’s understandably difficult to know how to bring them together in a way that feels dramatically coherent. Less excusable is the way they exploit these women and their experiences. In a moment of deep vulnerability, Eliana is interviewed saying she’s unable to reveal details of what happened with Adel because she can’t trust that people who are watching will understand. How much clearer could she be that discussing her situation will create potentially calamitous problems for her and her family? Yet for the filmmakers this is great stuff, too vividly emotional to remove when it offers such a perfect opportunity to underline their less-than-trailblazing thesis that sexual harassment in Syria is a societal rather than an individual problem.
Under the Sky of Damascus is consistently staged like it’s fiction, with theatrical blocking and perfect lighting. Of course documentaries can be beautiful, but a shot of the women in Beirut frolicking on the beach at sunset as if they’re nubile naiads smacks of pseudo-poetics of the worst order, and there’s no reason to toss in images of butchers cutting up chickens and torching lamb heads except to reinforce exoticized notions of Syrian culture for Western colonialist consumption.
Directors: Heba Khaled, Talal Derki, Ali Wajeeh
Written by: Heba Khaled
With: Sabah Al Salem, Heba Khaled, Farah Al Dbyaat, Souhir Saleh, Eliana Saad, Inana Rashed, Grace Al Ahmar, Ameer Abu Khier
Producers: Sigrid Dyekjær, Talal Derki, Heba Khaled, Beth Earl
Co-producer: Beth Earl
Executive producers: Kelsey Koenig, Jenny Raskin, Philippe Levasseur, Roman Bessi, Maiken Baird, Ruba El-Khash
Cinematography: Raed Sandeed
Editing: Marion Tuor
Music: Ari Jan
Sound: Mia Joanna Koskela, Nader Hawa, Bilal Sultan
Production companies: Real Lava (Denmark), Jouzour Film (Berlin), Rustic Canyon (USA), Sama Art (Syria), in association with Impact Partners, Daraj
World sales: Submarine Deluxe
Venue: Thessaloniki Documentary Film Festival (); Berlinale (Panorama)
In Arabic
88 minutes