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Through this experimental audiovisual poem, AlSalah explores the gradual erasure of Palestine as mapped on Google Maps. Canada Park, a 7km² Israeli tourist attraction, is located on the ruins of three Palestinian villages. Yet, nothing indicates to visitors – both physical and virtual – that this park was built on the foundations of 1,464 homes, thereby displacing 10,000 Palestinians, 18 of whom died under the debris of their own houses¹.

The pixelated field trip, led by a red helmet topped with a GoPro, traverses paths dotted with picnic tables and ancient sanctuaries. Archaeological sites are discovered, including the clearly visible – yet anonymous – remains of Palestinian homes.

Guided by the wise poetry of AlSalah, we explore vast pine forests. The choice of this species is not arbitrary: due to the rapid growth of the trees, they conceal the debris, preventing refugees from returning to their lands². To echo this violent dispossession, the director superimposes archival photographs of a demonstration claiming the right to return onto the empty landscapes, forty years after exile.

Furthermore, the landscaping – a tangible proof of ecocolonialism – has destroyed the majority of the indigenous flora, and only a tenth of the vegetation has survived reforestation³. Through the use of datamoshing, AlSalah alters the conifers: the trees become abstract forms climbing towards the sky. Could this be a way of honoring the souls that inhabit the land

Finally, it is impossible to overlook the name of the national park, the film's eponymous title. A testament to the connection between Israel and Canada, it has been largely funded by the charity and tax-exempt organization JNF Canada⁴. Canadian taxpayers have thus sponsored – and continue to do so – actions as cruel as ethnic cleansing, to name just one. While the Canadian government is currently making reparations to indigenous peoples, it nevertheless maintains its support for neocolonialism and its excesses.

Anouk Vallières
Programming and Activities Coordinator
Plein(s) Écran(s)

“I became a filmmaker because I always felt that when I film, it gives me a feeling of protection, recording an injustice. As if the very act of filming it, absolves me from being part of it.”

The film's origins lie in a promise broken when Danae Elon, against her father's wishes, who had left Israel in disgust at the fate of the Palestinians, moved back to Jerusalem with her family just as she was about to give birth to her third son. The latter would bear the same name as his grandfather, the Jewish intellectual Amos Elon. "Our relationship was political", says the filmmaker of her relationship with this imposing figure of the Israeli left. This phrase also sheds light on her relationship with her three sons and her husband Philippe. From then on, in a quest at the confluence of the intimate and the political, Elon filmed for three years - and right up to the brink of breaking up - the life of her family, their past and their hopes, their heartbreaks and contradictions, which turn out to be echoed in the country itself, born of a broken promise - "Never again!"
 

Frédérick Pelletier
Filmmaker and programmer

“I became a filmmaker because I always felt that when I film, it gives me a feeling of protection, recording an injustice. As if the very act of filming it, absolves me from being part of it.”

The film's origins lie in a promise broken when Danae Elon, against her father's wishes, who had left Israel in disgust at the fate of the Palestinians, moved back to Jerusalem with her family just as she was about to give birth to her third son. The latter would bear the same name as his grandfather, the Jewish intellectual Amos Elon. "Our relationship was political", says the filmmaker of her relationship with this imposing figure of the Israeli left. This phrase also sheds light on her relationship with her three sons and her husband Philippe. From then on, in a quest at the confluence of the intimate and the political, Elon filmed for three years - and right up to the brink of breaking up - the life of her family, their past and their hopes, their heartbreaks and contradictions, which turn out to be echoed in the country itself, born of a broken promise - "Never again!"
 

Frédérick Pelletier
Filmmaker and programmer

Papaya is a film inhabited by a cathartic power that disarms while liberating. The play of discrepancy between the smiling archives of early childhood and the violence of the subject matter contributes to the intensity of the emotional charge retained, which finds in the creative gesture a form of emancipation. The jury wants to underline the strength that emanates from an eminently personal and subversively courageous film.

 

Festival Filministes Jury
Naomie Décarie-Daigneault
Sara-Claudia Ligondé
Emilie Serri

This film is the winner of the Audience Award at the 6th edition of the Festival Filministes.

This film is the winner of the Audience Award at the 6th edition of the Festival Filministes.

Bird's Nest is a gentle film, where what is left unsaid brings to light the depth of the subjects addressed, both racial issues and the tears of youth. Nadia Louis-Desmarchais' camera moves between the two sisters, offering an intimate glimpse into this sisterly relationship, woven by care and kindness.

 

Student Jury of the Festival Filministes
Amila Halimi
Alycia Metmer
Azul Marian Ramirez
Abigaëlle Sonnet-Debard

Bird's Nest is a gentle film, where what is left unsaid brings to light the depth of the subjects addressed, both racial issues and the tears of youth. Nadia Louis-Desmarchais' camera moves between the two sisters, offering an intimate glimpse into this sisterly relationship, woven by care and kindness.

 

Student Jury of the Festival Filministes
Amila Halimi
Alycia Metmer
Azul Marian Ramirez
Abigaëlle Sonnet-Debard

The questions which concern the mimesis, relative to the norms of representation, are inherent to any process of creation. Pushing Through disturbs us precisely because it subverts our expectations in terms of figuration. The landscape presented to us is not made up of shots to be observed in an outward and passive way. This film involves us in a complete sense; we inhabit the ice, and more importantly, we feel it. The image is not used as a medium of direct and linear transmission, the sound does not faithfully describe what we see, and the light doesn’t provide conventional illumination on what is shown either. The ultra-attention brought to the senses is deployed in various synesthetic processes, which produce at once a sensation of proximity and disorientation. Our reference points are disrupted and our attitude toward the work is redefined. The sound and film work stimulates all of our senses, which allows us to build a renewed emotional relationship with this icy expanse. It is perhaps no longer really a question of the landscape itself, but of the echo that it is capable of eliciting within us.

Yulia Kaiava
Tënk Canada's editorial assistant
 

The questions which concern the mimesis, relative to the norms of representation, are inherent to any process of creation. Pushing Through disturbs us precisely because it subverts our expectations in terms of figuration. The landscape presented to us is not made up of shots to be observed in an outward and passive way. This film involves us in a complete sense; we inhabit the ice, and more importantly, we feel it. The image is not used as a medium of direct and linear transmission, the sound does not faithfully describe what we see, and the light doesn’t provide conventional illumination on what is shown either. The ultra-attention brought to the senses is deployed in various synesthetic processes, which produce at once a sensation of proximity and disorientation. Our reference points are disrupted and our attitude toward the work is redefined. The sound and film work stimulates all of our senses, which allows us to build a renewed emotional relationship with this icy expanse. It is perhaps no longer really a question of the landscape itself, but of the echo that it is capable of eliciting within us.

Yulia Kaiava
Tënk Canada's editorial assistant