Updated March 25, 2025, at 2:40 p.m.*
-Analysis-
CAIRO — The young man lies on the grass and gravel, his body curling into a fetal position. His fingers toy with the details of the ground beneath him, turning his back on the entire world. Perhaps he feels bored, or lonely, or desperate — maybe even afraid, longing to disappear from this world.
Every human can see themselves in this young man; each of us has, at least once in childhood or adolescence, experienced similar moments in the same position. It is the image on the poster for the 2024 film No Other Land, which just won an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature Film. It shows instants of climax — of despair and weakness — for its protagonist and director, Basel Adra, as well as his connection to his land, threatened by an Israeli bulldozer seen in the background.
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This journey to critical success of this documentary — directed by four filmmakers, most notably Palestinian Basel Adra and Israeli Yuval Abraham — appears to be a simple journey, free of enigmas in a world witnessing genocide live on air, prompting solidarity with some of its victims. Yet its success invites deeper reflection beyond its simple, direct meaning — beyond mere sympathy and intellectual admiration, which in this case is cinematic, for a film that depicts the suffering of Palestinians in several villages in Masafer Yatta, an area of the southern West Bank.
Attention on the film has been renewed after the news Monday that Hamdan Ballal, one of the other Palestinian directors on the documentary, was attacked near his home by Israeli settlers in the West Bank. “They beat him and he has injuries in his head and stomach, bleeding,” said Yuval Abraham in a post to social media.
After being beaten, Ballal was arrested by the Israeli Defense Force, being taken from the ambulance he had called. The IDF refused to name Ballal as being arrested, but said that three people had been detained for throwing rocks at security forces.
The violence means one should view the film with a broader perspective, not limiting its recognition to mere compensation for a profound sense of guilt over the genocide or anger at official stances toward it — especially in Germany, where the film won an award at the Berlin International Film Festival in 2024. It is as if these awards are compensation paid by filmmakers in exchange for their governments’ silence in the face of all this blood and destruction, or their complicity with it.
Astonishment of anti-cinema
Among the many reasons for the film’s success is its “anti-cinematic” nature. The film deviates from the dominant framework of award-winning documentaries and the polished, contemplative filmmaking style, offering something that defies the prevailing trend — one that many filmmakers have grown weary of. It adopts the cinéma direct approach, where the camera does not disappear, nor does it beautify reality while pretending to observe it secretly.
The two young filmmakers behind No Other Land had no prior experience in filmmaking; they were able to create something that feels raw, innocent and detached from the conventions and techniques of cinematic craftsmanship.
The film never, even for a fleeting moment, raises the idea that there is another land for Palestinians.
That is one of the reasons why the film captivates viewers of all kinds — whether cinephiles and festival-goers, those who support the Palestinian cause, or professional filmmakers on selection and jury panels at major festivals. The film stands apart from the saturation of other films, which, despite their artistic and technical excellence, often lack real risks or adventures and fail to capture spontaneity when addressing the issues that concern their creators.
Sometimes, these films turn real places into what resembles a film studio, where real-life characters are directed as if they were actors performing their roles. In other words, the craft of filmmaking intervenes to reshape reality instead of merely capturing it. That kind of craftsmanship is entirely absent in No Other Land. Its absence favors another skill — one that is not immediately apparent: the craft of walking a fine line in a minefield; creating a film that satisfies multiple and divergent audiences at the same time.
A balancing act
The film satisfies those who offer shallow solidarity with the Palestinian cause, peace advocates who are not fundamentally opposed to Zionism, and those wary of accusations of antisemitism. It also satisfies those of us who are radically aligned with the Palestinian people’s struggle for their land, their lives, and their freedom. We cannot help but welcome a film with a distinctly Palestinian flavor that addresses Palestinian struggles, even if we recognize that it only covers a specific segment of the broader issue.
Filming took several years, from the summer of 2019 to late 2023, before the film reached the Berlinale just weeks later. Archival footage from the early 2000s was also used, showing Basel Adra as a child in an unrecognized village, watching in awe as his father — a resistance fighter who was repeatedly imprisoned — his grandfather, and his neighbors confronted Israel’s occupation.
The film concludes with the armed settler attacks on the Palestinian hamlets of Masafer Yatta, after Hamas’ Oct. 7 Al-Aqsa Flood attack, forcing many families to leave as they exhausted their capacity to endure. They abandon their villages, their demolished homes, and the caves where they were forced to live. The film’s protagonists retrace their journey over the years — a journey shaped by friendship, forged through the camera as a tool of resistance against forced displacement.
Another land
Between the opening and closing scenes, we witness multiple moments that leave the audience with no choice but to react emotionally — whether with complete attention or, perhaps, tears. This panorama of bloody oppression forms the real-life drama captured by the camera, making cinema a window onto reality. It is a drama that unites two figures: Basel, the young Palestinian man from Masafer Yatta, and Yuval, from Beersheba, a young Israeli journalist and political activist opposing displacement and home demolitions, standing in solidarity with Palestinians.
Their friendship begins and evolves in a reality that bluntly declares: There is no other land where Palestinians can go. Their struggle for life and freedom is reduced to merely clinging to the walls of a house, even if that house is made of tin sheets.
This deliberate omission is the delicate balancing act of the film.
The act of staying on the land, resisting the “other’s” attempts to displace its rightful owners, unites the two protagonists/directors through solidarity and a shared sense of siege. Yuval, who learned Arabic in the West Bank, stands in solidarity with Palestinians, while Basel remains confined with his family in a small space. Even their friendship itself becomes restricted, sometimes feeling on the verge of explosion — though Basel never explicitly voices what brews inside him. Instead, a coldness and caution emerge in certain scenes.
Perhaps Basel’s silence is precisely what grants this film its success and wide audience reach, and what gives it its title. No Other Land is named after the fact that there is no other land for these Palestinian shepherds and farmers if they are expelled from Masafer Yatta. Yet, the film never, even for a fleeting moment, raises the idea that there is another land for Palestinians: the land Yuval himself comes from, to which he returns daily. Not just Beersheba, but all of historic Palestine, occupied in 1948 and 1967.
Lingering questions
The film does not question Yuval’s legitimacy in this space, never asking, “Why are you here?” The protagonists merely discuss how an Israeli enjoys freedoms of movement and life that a Palestinian does not. We wait for a perspective that transcends the issue of mobility and housing, that moves beyond the generalized and idealized notion of “peace.” But it never appears.
This deliberate omission is the delicate balancing act of the film, allowing it to expose at least one facet of occupation’s ugliness.
In this case, the film’s success at festivals within European cultural and artistic circles in solidarity with Palestinians is almost guaranteed. The film never ventures into the minefields of questioning Israel’s legitimacy or the legitimacy of its citizens’ presence on this land. It does not go beyond exposing further land theft from Palestinians, ignoring the deeper question: How was this state built?
A lingering, troubling question arises: Would this film have achieved such recognition if it had only a Palestinian director? Or did its audience need to see an unknown Israeli beside an unknown Palestinian to feel reassured about its message?
The audience may believe they are celebrating this friendship. But some, perhaps unconsciously, celebrate the presence of an Israeli patron for the Palestinian cause.
*This article, originally published on March 5, 2025, was updated on March 25, 2025, to include details of the attack of Hamdan Ballal by Israeli settlers.
