Portrait of Raymond Eddé, a candidate in the Lebanese presidential elections and a staunch opponent of the sectarian war. During the 1975–1976 conflicts, he and his team actively searched for those who had gone missing in the war, whether Christian, Druze, or Muslim.
Director | Jocelyne Saab |
Actors | Naomie Décarie-Daigneault, Naomie Décarie-Daigneault |
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For a Few Lives (1976) by Jocelyne Saab is a tense, political, and intimate chamber piece. Saab follows Raymond Eddé, a Lebanese presidential candidate who stands as a figure of integrity. In the midst of the chaos of 1975–1976, he searches for the missing persons, whoever they may be: Christians, Muslims, Druze. Saab attempts to film a “righteous man,” or what remains of one, in a country stripped of its bearings. It is a desperate yet clear-eyed quest, an attempt at redemption in the face of a collective morality in total collapse. This is not an action film, but a film of gestures, of waiting, of faces, and of the dead restored to their dignity. What matters here is the trace, the memory, the attempt to save a few lives—or at least their names. Saab captures the war without ever showing it head-on, letting it resonate in the silence of absent bodies.
What strikes me first is the voice-over, which immediately transports me back to my childhood. In these voices from wartime documentaries, there is a very specific intonation, typical of francophone journalism of the era: a way of pronouncing, of narrating, that activates multiple layers of memory and awakens an intimate echo in each of us. This voice-over embodies all the stories of collapse.
Chantal Partamian
Filmmaker and archivist
For a Few Lives (1976) by Jocelyne Saab is a tense, political, and intimate chamber piece. Saab follows Raymond Eddé, a Lebanese presidential candidate who stands as a figure of integrity. In the midst of the chaos of 1975–1976, he searches for the missing persons, whoever they may be: Christians, Muslims, Druze. Saab attempts to film a “righteous man,” or what remains of one, in a country stripped of its bearings. It is a desperate yet clear-eyed quest, an attempt at redemption in the face of a collective morality in total collapse. This is not an action film, but a film of gestures, of waiting, of faces, and of the dead restored to their dignity. What matters here is the trace, the memory, the attempt to save a few lives—or at least their names. Saab captures the war without ever showing it head-on, letting it resonate in the silence of absent bodies.
What strikes me first is the voice-over, which immediately transports me back to my childhood. In these voices from wartime documentaries, there is a very specific intonation, typical of francophone journalism of the era: a way of pronouncing, of narrating, that activates multiple layers of memory and awakens an intimate echo in each of us. This voice-over embodies all the stories of collapse.
Chantal Partamian
Filmmaker and archivist
Français
English