We spoke to Areeb about the filmmaking process, the creative decisions and emotional weight of bringing this compelling story to the screen.
AM: Your film, Yalla Parkour, powerfully contrasts life and death in Gaza. Can you describe the creative process that led to this film, from initial inspiration to the final product?
Areeb Zuaiter: The spark ignited in 2014, during a brutal offensive in Gaza, while I was holding my newborn child. Witnessing such stark contrasts—tender new life against relentless death— profoundly impacted me. A YouTube video of young Gazan men performing parkour, seemingly unfazed by the violence, provided a crucial connection to the resilience of the human spirit. This led me to connect with the PK Gaza team, whose raw footage became my primary research, revealing their determination to use parkour as an escape and a form of expression.
The editing process in Malmö, Sweden, with Phil Jandaly and Basel Mawlawi, was a collaborative effort, weaving together fragmented stories and raw footage into a cohesive narrative. Ultimately, collaborating with Ibrahim Al Otla, a Gazan cinematographer, allowed me to see through the eyes of Ahmed, the film's central figure, and grasp a deeper understanding of his life beyond parkour. The final film is a fusion of distant memories, defiant youth, and hope, stitched together across borders.
AM: What were some of the significant challenges you encountered during filming, particularly considering the geographical distances and access limitations?
Areeb Zuaiter: Access was a major hurdle. The physical barriers between Gaza and my location meant Ibrahim Al Otla, in Gaza, became my eyes on the ground. We collaborated remotely, often re-shooting scenes based on our conversations. The film itself reflects this absence of access. The geographical distance, with the crew scattered across Sweden, Gaza, and the US, made communication a constant challenge, transforming each exchange into a significant act of global collaboration. Time was also a factor. The project spanned nearly a decade, testing the resilience and commitment of everyone involved.
AM: Can you discuss your collaboration with Ahmed Matar and how his perspective shaped the narrative?
Areeb Zuaiter: Working with Ahmed was like connecting with a spirit yearning for freedom. His enthusiasm for parkour mirrored his desire to communicate with someone beyond Gaza. His dedication to filming and editing provided invaluable footage. He embodied caution, having learned to navigate trust in a challenging environment. Our conversations often focused on the film's process, and his footage became indispensable to me, as someone unable to experience Gaza firsthand.
AM: While undeniably a human story, Yalla Parkour also implicitly addresses political and social struggles. Do you consider it a political documentary?
Areeb Zuaiter: The film is primarily a deeply human story, focusing on Ahmed's journey and my own personal connection to it. But you can't separate these stories from the broader political context. The themes of belonging, freedom versus imprisonment, and the challenges faced in Palestine are inherently political, even if unintentionally so. The film's implicit political commentary arose naturally from the human story it tells.
AM: How did you balance subjective and objective perspectives in portraying such a sensitive and emotionally charged topic?
Areeb Zuaiter: While I aimed to approach the film with empathy and a personal lens, true objectivity is impossible. Simply choosing camera angles and framing is a subjective act. However, I believe the abundance of readily available resources on this topic offers a balanced perspective. I see the film as intersecting human stories that encourage further exploration and understanding.
AM: What are your hopes and expectations for the film's impact, especially following its participation in the Berlin Film Festival?
Areeb Zuaiter: Berlinale's reach and prestige offered a tremendous opportunity to showcase Yalla Parkour to a diverse global audience. The sold-out screenings confirmed a hunger for these stories. This impact extends beyond individual viewers, signaling a shift in how Arab narratives are perceived and supported globally. I hope it creates a ripple effect, encouraging greater investment in and recognition of Arab cinema.