Review by Cate McVeigh
Stars Yasser Talib & Shazada Hussein
Written by Mohamed Al Daradji & Jennifer Norridge
Produced by Atea Al Daradji & Mohamed Al Daradji
Cinematography by Duraid Munajim
Certification UK 12A | Singapore PG
Runtime 100 minutes
Directed by Mohamed Al Daradji
Having fought as an Iraqi soldier, Ahmed's father has been missing since the Gulf War. Ahmed and his grandmother search in vain for their lost family member in the Iraqi mass graves that have been unearthed since the fall of Saddam Hussein two weeks previously. Ahmed's wilful innocence and his grandmother's weary determination are all the more sorrowful when we realise that they are following the long journey from the foothills of Kurdistan to the symbolic sands of Babylon that the father Ahmed never knew must have travelled before his apparent demise.
Despite the heartbreaking subject matter, Son of Babylon is essentially a classic road movie. However, the tone set at the beginning leads you to believe that Ahmed and his grandmother may not reach the goal of finding their respective father and son at the end of their journey. There is nothing more distant than the recent past, in this case when trying to dissect atrocities such as those committed during Saddam Hussein's regime. Hundreds of thousands of mass graves have been unearthed since the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003, therefore we know that the search is going to be an uphill struggle. Ahmed spoke Arabic, but as his grandmother spoke Kurdish this presents a dangerous language barrier in areas such as Baghdad. The inclusion of a Kurd in the main role led to an initial loss of investment as it was seen as being separatist. Clearly the UK film council disagreed as they made up the investment shortfall. Personally I thought that the inclusion of both Kurds and Arabs led to an important acknowledgement that all areas of the Iraqi community suffered through this regime and often suffered together.
Yasser Talib plays 12-year-old Ahmed and I have never seen such a flawless performance from such a young child. Talib had never even been to a cinema before the premiere and playfully argued that he thought that director, Mohamed Al Daradji, shouldn't have let him be seen in his underpants as it made him look childish. Credit has to go to the writers for a script that weaved so fluidly between humour and heartbreak, but Talib's delivery was mesmerising. As a child that has lived in the aftermath of the regime, Talib was able to accurately portray the grounded maturity and world weariness required for this coming of age story; a story that children should never have to know.
Son of Babylon was filmed on location in Iraq and Talib was so unflinching in scenes with armed soldiers and filming in a desolate burned out terrain, that it sparked something in me personally. It sadly reminded me of elements in my own childhood during the troubles in Belfast, where armed soldiers on each street corner and children being searched for incendiary devices were an everyday occurrence. I didn't even realise that this was uncommon for other children in other countries until my teenage years. So it was with a heavy heart that I watched scenes where Ahmed suddenly had to take the adult role in the relationship with his grandmother, just as I had seen in similar relationships from my own childhood experiences.
This is an incredibly moving film despite being shot so starkly and under rather harsh conditions. It was Iraq's official submission in the Best Film in a Foreign Language category at the Oscars, but unfortunately missed out on a nomination. Less unsurprisingly it did win the Amnesty International Film Prize and Peace Film Award at the 2010 Berlin International film festival, and also the Raindance award at the British Independent Film Awards. The saddest thing is that this story, although it focuses on the hope for peace, is true for so many families in Iraq and most of these families will never receive closure on their loved ones who disappeared. The movie so often crosses into the territory of reality, that I felt a genuine sense of loss in the final scenes. The mark of a truly good foreign film is when you can understand each moment, without having to read the subtitles and still be thoroughly moved by the story. The heart of the story is perfectly summed up in this line from one grieving Arab widow to Ahmed's Kurdish grandmother; "I do not understand your language, but I feel your sorrow and pain." This is a must see for any discerning fans of foreign film this year.