Capernaum



The product of a neo-realistic film is a grounded, personal and often touching story that deals with harsh realities. But as soon as we add the societal dynamics in it, making it social realistic or socio-political, the story can slightly be blown out of proportion for the sake of artistic liberties. In a way all neorealist films are a commentary on the society and politics of its time and yet remain down-to-earth in the scope of the stories. Capernaum manages to be grounded, roaming in the maze-like streets of Beirut slums, but keeps one foot in the fantasy realm for the sake of catalysing the story. Capernaum borrows themes and styles, and is reminiscent of several movies of its league; from Slumdog Millionaire to Bicycle Thieves and even Children of Heaven. While the story of a young boy fighting life in poverty is always grabbing at strong emotions and predictable turns in the story, we discover that just by changing the context the movie sheds light on harsh truths that are screaming for attention. And just like our rebellious 12-year-old protagonist in the movie, it isn’t crying for help but rather angry and sick of inaction.



Capernaum (meaning chaos) follows 12-year-old Zain, who shows his displeasure and anger actively at his parents and other people in his life for reasons that are actually valid and not childish to the slightest. Zain is brought up in the slum with neglect and abuse from his parents, and after a series of events that the film details, Zain ends up suing them for giving birth to him. Although this motivation given to us in the beginning may seem too fantastical and played up, the events that led up to it will surely melt your heart and shatter your expectations from anything even remotely divine. Zain and his siblings do not attend school, but he and his sister, Sahar, work at a store, of which the owner has a “liking” towards Sahar. Zain being sharp and stout-mouthed detests the guy and despite Zain’s loud protests, the parents end up sending off 11-year-old Sahar to marry him in a truly distressing scene. The apparent callousness and betrayal from his parents prompts Zain to leave the household to a different town where he desperately searches for work. He ends up befriending an Ethopian refugee named Rahil who lives there illegally and has an infant son of her own. When Rahil is finally detained, Zain becomes the sole guardian of the child and both of them wander around town looking for means for survival. Zain later gives in to the promises of a shady vendor (Aspro) for migrating to a better place, and heads back home for his papers. In a chilling sequence, he finds his family in mourning at home and that Sahar had died. In furious angst he runs to stab the pervert husband, and ends up getting convicted for an attempted murder.



While the ultimate premise of the movie may seem too cinematic and blown up to some, director Nadine Labaki boldly attempts to shed light on the neglect these children face from the parents, society and the government, essentially getting excluded from the system. And none of this is subtle in the movie, saving us from misinterpreting it and thus allowing it to be taken literally and in the truest way possible. It is the things that surround these kids that terrifies us the most, even if we are sitting comfortably under a solid roof and in front of a screen of entertainment. We see children and infants, exposed to terrible things they don’t understand; pedophiles, traffickers, cons, killers, and yet the group they’re most afraid of is the one that’s supposed to keep them safe- the government. Throughout the film, there are people who are either afraid of getting caught without their “papers” or striving to run away to an unknown yet better place and are willing to do anything within their means to push through, even if it means just swallowing the inhumane trauma. Labaki summarises the universal theme that this movie hits on: “[Zain]’s actually not only suing his parents, he’s suing the whole system because his parents are also victims of that system — one that is failing on so many levels and that completely ends up excluding people.” (Source: NYT)



Considering the daily life and surrounding neighborhood of Zain’s dwelling, similar themes were hit upon by Slumdog Millionaire where the kid from the slum tackles and escapes similar dangerous dens. While in that case, the movie takes a more optimistic Hollywood turn, Capernaum remains grounded and takes us into the streets where the danger is hidden in plain sight and it doesn’t need to come to you just because of the situation, because it’s everywhere. Zain takes no relief in giving in to Aspro and his degenerate motives to be smuggled out of the country and avoids it until it is his last resort. Aspro comes as a friend, as a ticket out of troubles, and unlike how underground dealings are typically portrayed, there are no goons to drag them into it. The evils, and such people, be it traffickers or pedophiles, come as everyday friends, offering a way out of that destitute way of life and in a way it remains the only viable thing to do for the victim than to return to the rut. It is hard to imagine inescapable vice while sitting in warmth and comfort, and until you are really wrapped up inside of it. And in Capernaum we are shown, subtly or crudely, that these things are ubiquitous and part of the normalcy. These are the evils which are a byproduct of the system Labaki is talking about; the system which leaves no room for a virtuous life without engaging in misdoings just to survive. To many of those who thought that portraying grim truths in raw detail were just tear-jerkers, Nadine Labaki says: “What you see in the film is nothing compared to reality. We should wake up to how many children are suffering in the world. It’s unbearable suffering; I didn’t put rape scenes in the film, I didn’t put real abuse in the film — because I couldn’t.” (Source: NYT)



Capernaum packs a lot of power in its performances as well; with Zain played by Zain AL Rafeea who was an actual refugee living in those Beirut slums, and other actors who were novices but add total authenticity to the movie. The only issue that one can pick with this film, as I mentioned before, is the sensationalized wrapping with which it is presented; the court affair and what-not just to kick start a story. Of course, it fits to characterize the absolute revolt Zain (and we who feel for him) displays towards the things that are out of his hands and which affect his being, and things (like choosing to bring a new child into an already destitute life) which can very logically be resolved but aren’t. Although the wrapping of the court case and the TV show may seem like stretching “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not gonna take this anymore” to its limits, by putting it aside you find a truly devastating case of reality that hits harder than a documentary could.

