Annemarie Jacir

I adore this film. I’m a big fan of the 1930s—my new film is set during this period, albeit in a very different world. The 1930s invoke so much about the madness of the world. It was the Great Depression, the birth of jazz, Hollywood’s Golden Age, the end of Prohibition and in my corner of the world, the British-led Mandate of Palestine, the colonial project that would change our history forever. It was a time of great hope, rebellion and change—a moment in our own history where we felt we could beat Goliath. Trouble in Paradise is a feast. I love the direction, the decor and the style. It’s so much fun. And I love the script.

I picked this film for what it says about our world and how it says it. The struggle of a working-class mother and the commentary about the film industry and how it invades people’s lives: I was very touched by it. It’s suffocating and gritty. The performance of the mother—who walks a tightrope between trying to be strong, trying to be a good loving mother, while also being too pushy, making the wrong choices and struggling with the terrible mundane reality of humiliation—is incredible to watch. Many men attempt to make feminist stories with female protagonists, but Visconti is one of the few who actually succeeds. 
 

I know: It’s on everyone’s list. It’s the French New Wave, a story of youth, an exploration of a city and a specific moment in time. There are so many moving moments in the film, but my favorite is the last sequence: the sense of freedom, life and the open, broken world—and the child’s face. It is truly beautiful filmmaking.

A favorite of mine since I first watched it, when I lived in New York. For the first time in my life, I got to live in a city with cinemas that allowed me the chance to see new films, independent films, classic films and obscure films on a big screen. I love the film’s spirit, the slow-burning performances of Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, and the use of color. As soon as the opening credits roll, we know that color is important. After that, it’s a journey, a feast for the eyes, to follow the story of the two infamous gangsters. That scene when Bonnie visits her mother—the change of rhythm and the dreamy break from the rest of the film—is incredibly emotional.

If I could point out one director who has influenced me the most in the way I’ve learned to work with actors, it is Cassavetes. Faces is painful and raw. I love the way he holds on to moments, to shots, to their fullest emotional capacity. I learned after one of my early films that I had made the terrible mistake of working so much on a script that I suffocated the actors with it. I didn’t allow them to breathe. Since then, I’ve been finding ways to always keep things alive. That is the most important thing. In all the imperfections and scars—I adore scars—my main job is to help an actor find the life of every scene. Cassavetes is a master.

As long as I live, I’ll never get the last image out of my head, that bloodied hand grabbing at the earth. It says everything. This film is a masterpiece of anti-imperialist struggle. It hits at the core of everything. Although I grew up with Egyptian cinema playing on TV, I never really watched an Egyptian film or connected with one until Richard Peña introduced me to Youssef Chahine and, in particular, The Land. When I was a graduate student, I remember running into Chahine while he was shooting a film in New York. I introduced myself to him and babbled on about how much I adore his work, how moved I was, et cetera. He just held my hand tightly and adjusted his hearing aid and said, “You are very, very nice!”

I am a sucker for thrillers, especially political ones, from classics like North by Northwest to ’90s films like The Fugitive (though perhaps I find it harder to find good thrillers nowadays). I also love obsessive films, when done right. Because I grew up in a slightly paranoid world and live in a place where surveillance continues to mark our lives, The Conversation hits home. This one has aged quite well, as surveillance is even more prevalent than ever before. On top of that, the political atmosphere surrounding us is quite terrifying.

I can’t say enough about this film: gorgeous black-and-white cinematography; character-driven story; amazing soundtrack, with one of my favorite musicians (and cast!); and energy that is so Jarmusch, so absolutely hypnotizing. I’ve been listening to Tom Waits since I was in high school and will never have enough. He is experimental, raw, sentimental and rough—pure poetry. Jarmusch’s sense of place is one of the reasons I am so drawn to his work. He creates a world that’s familiar yet at the same time absolutely fantastical—just like Waits does. To be real, so close to the ground and at the same time so free…

Nair is a master chameleon. Her energy, her love for life, and her ability to move through hundreds of different worlds, seemingly effortlessly, all show in her films. But it is her earliest feature that is etched in my head. Salaam Bombay! broke my heart into a million pieces. The beauty of the main character’s relationships; the edge between joy and sadness. Nair captures so much in this story: a love for her people and the search for love in an unjust world.

I realized while making this list that many of the films are from the same period, more or less. Most likely that’s because I grew up in a country without cinemas and my discoveries came late. When I saw something that affected me, I was deeply affected. Before the Rain plays with time in the most poetic way. It talks about love, war and our broken countries. Manchevski captures in the most cinematic way the feeling of being an outsider, of belonging and not belonging to a place, and of trying to find a way to exist, to be.

This, not only for its cinema but for its script. I love the way Vinterberg reveals layers of his characters. I adore this totally cinematic and uncomfortable exploration of family relations. It’s black, it’s raw and it’s emotional. I discovered The Celebration at the New York Film Festival when it first came out and then became a fan of many Dogme 95 films. I feel I age myself when talking about Dogme, in the sense of when I started studying cinema. Clearly I am not a Dogme filmmaker, but the idea of making cinema in actual locations and without tricks is something I am drawn to. I find that the real world can be so magical and strange that, as a filmmaker, I am not personally attracted to, say, science fiction.

Jane Campion plus Kate Winslet and Harvey Keitel! I love watching those two actors perform together. I love the energy the film is infused with and the exploration of family relationships, sexual politics and spirituality. Holy Smoke is original, and it is damn funny. I’m a big fan of Campion’s quirky, awkward stories, which are always made with truth and originality.

This film is imprinted on my brain forever. I first saw it at the New York Film Festival in early 2000, and I’d never seen anything like it. It’s moving and evocative, full of confidence. I love how Denis chose to retell a classic story in a totally original way and make it absolutely personal. I love the world she creates in the film, her ability to capture rage, jealousy, obsession and the desire to break free. When I close my eyes and think about Beau Travail, entire scenes play out. The images are so strong that I feel like I just saw the film yesterday. This is my favorite Claire Denis work.

I watched this when I was a film student. It came during the new wave of Iranian cinema (which I adore), but what I love here is how it turned so much on its head. An urban story, a pizza delivery, a robbery, depression and an examination of class differences in Tehran. I hadn’t seen anything like it, and it felt like a relief from the usual expectations of what cinema from “our region” (and I use the term tongue in cheek) should be. Much of the international audience has certain clichés about “the East,” and they like to see those clichés confirmed in our cinema, whether it’s poverty porn, rural stories or beaten-down women, among many other clichés. Crimson Gold gives us a more nuanced picture of a city, class and modern life—not only a social critique but also a political one.

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My list is not in order, because if it were, this film would be at the top. All Ken Loach’s films have been influential, but this one remains my favorite. I cannot express how deeply it resonates with me as a Palestinian. Particularly memorable: I invited Ken to Palestine for his first visit and accompanied him across the border from Jordan, along with Paul Laverty and Rebecca O’Brien. We screened the film in Ramallah to an audience of 2,000 people who connected so deeply to the film. We see Ireland, and Ireland sees us.