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he documentary, released on Netflix to celebrate The New Yorker ‘s 100th anniversary, may initially appear as a retrospective of a publication, but it can be interpreted as a way for the field of cultural production to construct and legitimize its own autonomy. From the perspective of Pierre Bourdieu’s “field” theory, this production can be considered a case study illustrating the process of transforming economic capital into symbolic capital and how property relations are marginalized in this process.

“The Rejection of the Economy” and the Illusion of Autonomy

In his work *The Rules of Art* (2019), Bourdieu characterizes the field of cultural production as “an inverted economic world.” In this unique field, the exclusion of economic profit and commercial success as legitimate goals is a constitutive precondition for the accumulation of intellectual authority and prestige (symbolic capital). According to Bourdieu, the autonomy of cultural production is largely made possible by the denial of the economic and the presentation of production as if it were devoid of market rationality.

Throughout the documentary, editorial rigor and fact-checking processes are highlighted as if they were sacred rituals; however, the fact that the journal was acquired by Samuel Irving Newhouse in 1984 and now operates under the Advance Publications media group is silently overlooked, which can be seen as a manifestation of this theoretical denial mechanism. This concealment of the journal’s underlying capital contributes to elevating the presentation of its editorial processes from a purely commercial activity to a purely intellectual level.

At this point, the concealment of the ownership structure can be interpreted not as a simple oversight, but rather as a structural necessity employed by the magazine to maintain its image of autonomy at the pinnacle of the intellectual sphere. Indeed, The New Yorker can only distinguish itself from its commercial sister publications —Vogue or Vanity Fair— which directly cater to fashion and consumer culture, by maintaining a sterile distance that rejects this economy. Within Advance Publications’ broad portfolio, The New Yorker is positioned as a flagship publication representing the group’s cultural prestige, not its economic profit.

This situation allows economic capital not only to be concealed but also refined and transformed into a form of “intellectual legitimacy.” For Advance Publications, The New Yorker functions as a symbolic fortress, stripped of the cold rationality of profit and loss statements, providing a moral and cultural shield for the group’s other commercial operations. The crude financial power that Vogue derives from luxury consumption is equated with lofty values ​​in The New Yorker ‘s editorial rooms, where comma placement or ethical standards are debated. Thus, this editorial rigor is not merely a matter of professional ethics; it is a strategy by which capital, by concealing itself behind a veil of intellectual benevolence, registers its dominance within the field as a “universal authority.” Ultimately, this quiet and profound operation of ownership bestows upon the magazine a sanctity independent of market fluctuations, while granting the owner a field of cultural hegemony that money cannot buy.

Habitus and the Construction of the Distinguished Reader

In Bourdieu’s sociology, habitus refers to the ways in which individuals think, perceive, and act that are specific to the social class to which they belong. The language and aesthetics that The New Yorker has constructed over a century are not merely a production of content, but also a reproduction of a particular habitus. The sophisticated tone frequently emphasized in the documentary actually functions as a judgment of taste (distinction) that affirms the cultural capital of the magazine’s reader and distinguishes them from other social classes.

The magazine’s readers follow it not only to gain information, but also to feel part of that intellectual community and to affirm their own cultural capital. The sterile world presented in the documentary integrates the magazine’s symbolic authority with the reader’s identity by conveying the message, “You too are part of this elite and rigorous world.” Therefore, the documentary celebrates not only the history of the magazine, but also the social privilege that reading it represented.

Meta-Information and the Construction of “What Matters”

As Bourdieu emphasizes in his book On Television (2015), the most critical intervention in the media field is not the information itself, but its framing. Bourdieu expresses this situation as follows: “The most decisive part of information sharing, that is, the knowledge about information (meta-knowledge) that serves to decide what is important and what 41is not, and what can and cannot be transmitted, comes largely from other sources.” (Bourdieu, 2015, p. 31)

The New Yorker ‘s century-long emphasis on elitism and quality can be read precisely as a process related to the construction of this meta-knowledge. The sterile world presented in the documentary decides which story will be on the cover or which details will be deemed unnecessary and discarded, arguably based not on absolute truth, but on a particular habitus and power relations within the field. Indeed, as Wesley Lowery puts it, this “pyramid of subjective decisions” tends to position the way those who hold meta-knowledge see the world as a universal standard.

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n today’s age of ubiquitous social media influence, The Social Dilemma remains a chilling reminder of the strong impact of big social media companies on society. It paints a simultaneous picture of dystopia and utopia. The documentary adeptly highlights the addictive nature of social media and the profit-driven motives of giants like Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok, even at the expense of promoting questionable content. This raises significant ethical concerns, especially for vulnerable young users.

Through interviews with tech industry insiders, engineers, ethicists, and psychologists, the documentary exposes the algorithms and design choices responsible for turning social media into an addictive and polarizing force. These insiders provide firsthand accounts of how tech giants prioritize engagement and profit over user well-being and societal harmony.

The Social Dilemma raises vital ethical questions about tech companies’ power and responsibility. It underscores how the race for user attention and ad revenue has fueled the spread of misinformation, conspiracy theories, and divisive content on these platforms. Now, the burden falls on individuals, companies, and governments to chart a path forward.

Greatest Risk of Social Media: Imperceptible Change

There is an ironic transition from the information age to the disinformation age, even though we have greater access now to information than ever before, we still find it difficult to reach the truth. “Imperceptible change” is planted within us, obstructing our intellectual defense as to whether an information that we get is true or not.

In The Social Dilemma, “imperceptible change” refers to the gradual and often subtle ways in which social media platforms and their algorithms manipulate and influence user behavior without the users themselves being fully aware of it. This concept highlights how these platforms are designed to keep users engaged and addicted by making subtle, unnoticeable adjustments to what content is shown and when it’s shown to maximize user interaction and time spent on the platform.

For example, the algorithms might show you certain posts or ads at specific times when they predict you are most likely to engage with them, or they might prioritize content that aligns with your existing beliefs and interests. Over time, these imperceptible changes can have a significant impact on how users perceive the world, reinforcing their existing beliefs and preferences and keeping them hooked on the platform.

The documentary introduces the concept of “imperceptible change,” illustrating how social media subtly manipulates user behavior through algorithmic adjustments. These alterations, like showing content at specific times or prioritizing like-minded content, shape users’ perceptions over time. It serves as a warning about these platforms’ power and the need for users to be more aware of their online experiences.

Social media companies will soon have to go further 

For a really long time, the users’ only real weapon against the detrimental effects of social media was their willpower and media literacy. Basically, they were on their own.

In 2018, when Mark Zuckerberg testified in the congress over the Cambridge Analytica scandal, he stated, “It’s clear now that we didn’t do enough to prevent these tools from being used for harm. That goes for fake news, foreign interference in elections, and hate speech, as well as developers and data privacy.” Has anything changed since then?

Succumbing to pressure, platforms are beginning to pay attention to their users’ experience. Instagram, YouTube and TikTok have introduced various tools that alert users of their extended usage and even put parental controls. YouTube and Instagram remind teens to take breaks since 2021. Meanwhile, TikTok announced a passcode entry regulation for minors after an hour on the app.

The documentary’s interviews with experts and industry insiders emphasize the urgent need for more substantial regulation and responsible use of technology. The exploration of the addictive pull of social media, akin to the stimulating effects of slot machines on our brains, mirrors the concerns that various countries are now addressing.

China’s has taken measures to limit screen time for children under eight and Utah’s imposition of a digital curfew for minors are just two examples of this growing trend. France’s requirement for manufacturers to install parental control systems also underscores the global recognition that action is needed. In June, France passed a law that prohibits the promotion of certain practices – such as cosmetic surgery and smoking. The penalties for non-compliance can go up to two years in prison and a fine of €300,000.

However, the most recent and thorough move yet comes from the European Union. The EU is leading the charge with its Digital Services Act —overseen by the European Commission. The EU’s Digital Services Act, which became effective on August 25, imposes new rules on platforms, including assessments of societal impact and measures to prevent addictive behavior and targeting of vulnerable groups. The Act aims to make platforms more responsible and protect minors.

The new EU rules will allow researchers to access data inside company servers. The platforms will undergo a yearly assessment of the impact of their design, algorithms, advertising and terms of services on a range of societal issues. Then, according to the findings of the assessment, propose and implement measures inspected by the European Commission, researchers and an audit company.

The EU is actively teaming up with tech firms, industry groups, and organizations focused on children to figure out how to create platforms that better protect minors. They’re working towards a set of guidelines by 2024 called the Code of Conduct on Age-Appropriate Design. This code would lay out a list of steps that the European Commission wants big social media companies to take in line with the new laws.

However, as The Social Dilemma suggests, there is no one-size-fits-all solution to the complex problems posed by social media. A nuanced approach is crucial, focusing on specific people, platforms, and features that are most risky. Additionally, the call for more data and a precautionary principle when it comes to minors is both reasonable and responsible.

Only time will reveal the effectiveness of these measures and potential loopholes, but the Act open a chapter of thorough examination of social media companies’ practices.

Reviewed by Batuhan Aça, Şeymanur Melayim, Muhammet Ali Oruç, Shahd Qaid, and Ezgi Yaramanoğlu.

Written by Dilara Özer

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alestinian cinema was among the first to emerge in the Middle East and North Africa along with Egyptian and Syrian cinemas. Egyptian cinema started production in 1923, followed by Syrian cinema in 1928 and Palestinian cinema in 1935. However, at the time, it was barely possible to separate Palestinian and Syrian national identities, which only emerged after the division of the region by imperial powers. Before then, Palestine was known as “Southern Syria” and was part of Greater Syria, which included today’s Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine.

Yet, with the start of the British mandate in Palestine in 1917 and the French mandate in Syria in 1920, national identities gained a strong meaning. This translated into political, social, economic, and military actions against the imperial powers of the time that acted as if the region was theirs, dividing it in a humiliating manner into chunks of land.

The film industry in Palestine, which in a period of a few years saw a mass displacement of its people, was among the political, economic, and social changes taking place in the region. This mass displacement was reflected in a series of films that addressed the injustice against the Palestinian people alongside their life prior to the Nakba.

The first Palestinian movie theater was established in Jerusalem in 1908 and was known as “Cinematographe Oracle,” showing films on Saturday and Sunday nights. In 1912, a silent movie theater was established in the city, known as the “Cinema International,” where shows were organized based on ticket sales. At the time, these shows were mostly attended by male audiences who came from elite backgrounds.

In 1927, a law regulating movie theaters came to light in Palestine, which established the conditions under which the British mandate authorities were to control the sector.  he first Palestinian filmmaker was Ibrahim Hassan Sarhan, who shot a 20-minute short film of the visit of Saudi King Saud Bin Abdilaziz to Palestine in 1935. Other prominent Palestinians in the field included Ahmad Hilmi Alkilani who graduated from Cairo in 1945, and Muhammad Saleh Al-Kayali, who upon returning from his studies in Italy, established a cinema studio in Jaffa in 1940. He collaborated with the League of Arab Nations in 1945 to produce a film on Palestine.

Although the number of Palestinian films produced before 1948 was limited, the content of these films varied and provided important documentation of life before the Nakba. Such films include Realized Dreams, Studio Palestine, Ahmad Hilmi Pasha, and The Eid’s Night. Palestinian-Egyptian filmmaker Salaheddin Bardakhan produced the film A Night’s Dream in 1946, which was shown in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Amman, and Cairo at the time.

The impact of the Nakba on the film industry in Palestine

Following the Nakba and the establishment of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in 1965, more Palestinian films saw the light. The first Palestinian film that was shot under PLO supervision was No to Peaceful Settlement in 1968. At the time, all production units were factional, where the Fatah movement, for example, had its own production unit. The Palestine Film Unit, which was part of the PLO’s research center, published a 12-minute short film about Israel’s occupation of the Gaza Strip in 1967 and its impact on the Palestinian people there. Leftist Palestinian groups such as the PFLP and DFLP had their own production units, and produced films at the time such as The Path in 1973 by Rafiq Hajjar and Our Little Houses in 1974.

A dozen films unfolded carrying titles such as Why We Take Arms, Why We Plant Flowers, and Palestine in the Eye. Arab producers also contributed to the Palestinian film industry at the time; for example, Iraqi producer Muhammed Tawfik who produced dozens of films such as the Child and the Toy (1986), and Syrian Muhammed Malas who produced The Dream of the City in 1983.

With the establishment of the Palestinian Authority (PA) in 1993, the Media and Culture Department of the PLO was converted into the Palestinian Ministry of Culture. In light of limited contributions, the Palestinian “Revolution films” could be considered dead today, as film productions by Palestinian factions outside the PLO are different in their approach and content from the productions of the Palestinian Revolution Cinema, including those produced by Islamic parties.

Emergence of Palestinian Cinema?

The last decade has seen an emergence of Palestinian cinema which had lost momentum in the 1990s and 2010s. Palestinian filmmaker Elia Suleiman is among the top contributors to the Palestinian film industry with his masterpiece It Must Be Heaven (2019). In 2022, a storm of pressure on the film platform Netflix was launched after it published Farha, a Palestinian film that narrates the story of a 12-year-old Palestinian child during the events of the Nakba, which saw the displacement of 750,000 Palestinians from their homes prior to the establishment of Israel in 1948.

In the film, Farha’s father hides her in a room to protect her, promising to be back. He is unable to return, and from her room, Farha sees the horrors of the Nakba unfolding in front of her eyes: a Palestinian family is executed in the backyard of her family’s house by a group of Jewish soldiers. The film reveals a snippet of what Palestinian refugees had to endure, while the implications of the Nakba are still very present today. Today, as Israeli politicians who threaten Palestinians with a second Nakba are becoming ministers in Netanyahu’s new government, films like Farha seem even more ominous.

Farha and other Palestinian films send a message that the Palestinian film industry is coming back into the spotlight after decades of being almost inactive. The second generation of Palestinian refugees educated itself and the third generation is now taking action, supported by the fine education it has received, which will translate into more Palestinian films and novels in the coming years. The cultural war between Palestinians and Israel seems to be taking a new turn, and it will only become more heated in the coming years.

The fact that Farha is among the top 10 films on Netflix, shows that the Israeli counter-campaign to defame it has failed. As the impact of the Palestinian film and cinema industry increases, more Palestinian films are likely to be made, creating more pressure on platforms by pro-Israeli groups. Yet, the message of Farha has resonated loud and clear: the Palestinian narrative cannot be stopped.

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hen the Guardian reported on the negative Israeli reaction to the Netflix release of the film Farha (2021), the debut feature by Palestinian-Jordanian director Darin J. Sallam, they gave away a crucial part of the plot. It is difficult to discern whether this was a deliberate act of sabotage to ruin the film for potential viewers or a clumsy mistake by Bethan McKernan, the Guardian’s Jerusalem correspondent.

What is undeniable is that there has been a concerted effort to rubbish the film and suppress it. Just before the film was released worldwide on Netflix, hundreds of spam accounts left negative reviews on IMDb in what the Middle East Eye described as an “organized campaign.” Furthermore, Avigdor Lieberman, Israel’s minister of finance, described Netflix’s decision to platform it as “crazy.”

So why has this film created so much controversy? Not to repeat McKernan’s mistake, I advise the reader to watch the film before reading any further. I will be analyzing the film in some detail in what follows so as to work out why it has unnerved so many and in order to tackle some of the criticism that has been leveled against it. I first watched Farha on the opening night of the 2022 Safar Film Festival in London, knowing nothing about it beforehand—I believe is the ideal way to experience this film.

The film is set in Palestine in 1948. Fourteen-year-old Farha (Karam Taher) wants her father (Ashraf Barhoum), the mayor of their small village, to allow her to continue her education in the city. Her uncle (Ali Suliman) argues in favor of Farha being educated rather than married off and the father eventually agrees. Just as Farha is on the cusp of achieving her dream, her village is attacked by Zionists. It’s a testimony to the filmmaking that you could be fooled into thinking you have seen extensive battle scenes when much of the war is implied through sound rather than image. Farha’s father locks her in a pantry for her own safety and seals the door. He promises to return at a later time.

We begin to feel Farha’s increasing claustrophobia. Everything is a challenge: from finding a light source to collecting rainwater through a hole in the wall and solving the problem of how to go to the toilet in such a confined space. All this happens almost silently or with very effective use of sound. It is pure cinema that allows us to get close to Farha as we experience the visceral intensity of being confined with her. We long for her to find a way to break the door.

Then, through a gap in the door, Farha witnesses the arrival of a family. A woman gives birth. Farha calls out for the father of the family. Just as we think he is going to rescue her, Zionist soldiers arrive. The film goes from second gear into fifth. Every passing second the tension mounts. The danger the soldiers represent is palpable. At one point, a female soldier reaches inside the garment of the Palestinian woman who gave birth and extracts the large, heavy metallic key to her house tied around her neck. The soldier teases her by telling her she can keep it as a souvenir, implying she will never see her home again.

The family is eventually lined up and shot. We don’t see the moment of their execution, only the reaction on Farha’s face as she witnesses the horror. Then comes the crucial part, the part McKernan ruined for the Guardian readers: the newborn baby is left behind. A young Jewish soldier is ordered to kill him without wasting a bullet. He contemplates stomping on the baby, but in the end leaves a handkerchief over him and joins his departing unit. Finally, when Farha finds a hidden gun and blows open the door, she discovers flies feasting on the dead baby’s corpse.

With such a powerful, unflinching story, the Israeli reaction to Farha is perhaps not surprising. The irony is that much of Sallam’s secondary research on the events of 1948, which the Palestinians refer to as “Al-Nakba” (The Catastrophe), came from the work of Israeli historians such as Ilan Pappé. The violent expulsion of some 750,000 plus Palestinians from their villages which led to the creation of Israel is hardly a secret. The Israeli denial is a testimony to the power of the film.

What is surprising are some of the negative reviews the film has received in the Arab press. Some have critiqued the film for pandering to Western orientalism by having a young girl longing to be educated and being denied that right by her Arab community—but those critics misread the early scenes. The film shows Farha’s struggle but also her triumph. She persuades her father to let her be educated and you feel that he is secretly proud of her “stubbornness.”

The film is very clear about the fact that her education wasn’t so much interrupted by her community but by the attack on her village by the occupying forces. The uncle who helped persuade her father to allow her to be educated turns out in the end to be an informant for the Zionist soldiers. This irked some critics who perhaps would have preferred for all Palestinians in the film to be depicted as heroes rather than as complex characters. The uncle, realizing that the Zionist soldiers lied to him about their intention, breaks down at one point. He reminds us that no one thought the destruction of Palestine was going to be so remorseless and complete.

The Protagonist- ‘We live in a twilight world…’

Neil- ‘…no friends at dusk.’

Clandestine Russian influence in global affairs, arms dealing and the proliferation of nuclear weapons, private getaways for the super-rich, pan-national intelligence communities, private armies, free-ports (and lockdown) and the ‘science’ of using masks- these are news cycles from the past year and some of the themes both explicit and implicit that are handled in Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster film Tenet (2020). The biggest film release of last year is in many ways a mirror to the times we live in.

Nolan’s latest film develops many of his trademark styles from previous films. The ‘Protagonist’ (who has no other name and is played by American actor John David Washington) is a CIA agent who early on begins to work for the larger intelligence-type organisation Tenet which ‘transcends’ the other agency (in the words of his superior) and is trying to prevent World War III.

This lone character bears some resemblance to the theme of anonymity from Nolan’s early film Following (1998) while the structure of Tenet weaves the viewer in and out of time and often the same scene is played more than once from differing perspectives, movements and ‘temporal’ places- something first seen in his film Memento (2000) where the story unfolds backwards with the character of Leonard having amnesia and not remembering meeting the same people multiple times (although the audience is given this information); this is taken a step further in Tenet with relationships between characters (such as the Protagonist and Neil) mysterious to both themselves and the audience.

Misplaced identity is explored in Tenet in ways that hark back to The Prestige (2006) and the action sequences are fast, furious and comparable with the Batman/Dark Knight trilogy that Nolan made from 2005-2012. The dreamy theme(s) of moving back and forth through temporal space was most notably explored in Inception (2010) and Interstellar (2014) in varying ways while the attention to scientific details (including nuances of quantum physics) is again given to us but this time at even greater breakneck speed.

Tenet is a film which plays at action, science fiction and thriller while demanding rigorous work from its audience to keep up with the fast-moving and detailed parcels of information that are thrown our way; it is also a film with several political storylines that go into greater detail than the murky shadows of Gotham City, the international espionage in Inception or the near-future climate apocalypse of Interstellar. Nolan’s previous film Dunkirk (2017) addresses specific historical-political events with an accurate and dramatic flair and proves to be a bridge to Tenet’s more contemporary socio-political zeitgeist.

Temporal Cold War

Many of the nagging residuals from the cold war (1950’s-1980’s) such as the Chernobyl disaster or the rise of the super Russian Oligarch businessman are at the forefront of the film. The villain is called Andrei Sator (played by Northern Irish actor Kenneth Branagh) and is referred to by his last name which has historical connections as an ancient palindrome with magical and temporal associations; this word puzzle also includes the word Opera (which is the setting for the opening of the film), Arepo (an unseen character who is a master forger/painter of Goyas) Rotas (the name of the security firm that is central to the plot) and of course Tenet (a belief in something as well as the name of the secret organization).

The fictional ‘secret’ Soviet city of Stalsk-12 in Northern Siberia proves a perfect setting to explore the (real) repercussions of nuclear waste as well as a final battle scene. The private army reflects the increasing use of specialized forces (as well as drones) without national allegiance to cross borders/territories for their mission- in this case the highly traditional-looking armies use a ‘temporal’ pincer move and run repeated and monotonous attacks through time and space.

Science Class

Wheeler to the Protagonist ‘You are inverted- the world is not.’

Nolan has long used (real) cutting edge scientific advisors to give an authenticity to his outlandish plot narratives (most prominently in Inception and Interstellar); this continues in Tenet but takes on a level of detailed information that is less meant to be understood and used more as a presentation to make something plausible. This fits into the current political narrative which uses science less as an area that ‘builds and organizes knowledge in the form of testable explanations and predictions about the universe’ but something that convinces the general public about the benefits and plausibility of what is happening.

At a time when the general public is constantly hearing about ‘the science’ of the pandemic from experts (who have unwittingly become part of the political narrative) Tenet offers a masterclass in suspending disbelief through a mix of stunning action, superb practical effects and seamless visual effects while characters give a running commentary and tutorial on how the ‘temporal’ things are actually working.

This begins in an early scene where the scientist Barbara (played by French actress Clémence Poésy) gives a quick class in how bullets and other objects can be inverted and move backwards through time. Fellow Tenet member and companion Neil (played by English actor Robert Pattinson) fills in the knowledge gaps throughout the film as the Protagonist (and audience) try to understand the (non) narrative; by the time of the final scene at Stalsk-12 in Northern Siberia the viewer has become accustomed to the multiple and continuous inversions that feel less like ‘time travel’ and more like a scientific experiment that we don’t quite understand but know can and is happening (similar to most of the scientific laws of the world to non-scientific minds).

Incidents like wearing masks to breath your own air and protect oneself (and avoid the air of another moment in time) seem like obvious things while narrative clues like the pendent on Neil’s backpack (which was earlier glimpsed in the opera scene) are given focused audio-visual prominence to piece the story together.

International Elite

A major theme running through Tenet is how and why a small group of international jet- setters can use the globe for their own purposes. The viewer is constantly bombarded with images of the super-wealthy and the trappings of this life but finds virtually no pleasure from it at all. Scenes of extreme racing yachts to start the morning (with a near death), elite restaurants (with a brutal kitchen fight), expensive clothes (which are used by the Protagonist to look like he is part of a different ‘class’) and priceless paintings stored in warehouses (where no one can see them) abound; the tone of these moments is always fraught with anxiety and suggests more a critique of the pointless pursuit of pleasure than a celebration of it.

Free Ports also figure prominently as tax-free points across the globe that can be used to hide wealth and offer a network of entry areas for the temporal war that is taking place. Most tellingly Sator is ready to destroy the entire world (and possibly its own past?) when he (plans to) ceremoniously takes his own life in what represents the ultimate act of narcissism and which has no higher purpose (sacrifice) nor any lower purpose (conquer other nations) but simply exists out of a mix of extreme vanity and a kind of boredom experienced by those that can and do have everything material that is on offer. He describes his position to Kat as a kind of ‘…god of sorts…’

Big-Budget Experimental

Tenet is a film that asks a lot from its audiences while also belonging to a tradition of science-fiction films from Hollywood such as Terminator (1984 J. Cameron) which grapple with the narrative logistics and action of going back in time and Art Cinema such as La Jetee (1962 C. Marker) which offer a philosophical puzzle of the morals of the future helping its own past.

Some scenes such as the ones half-way through the film where Sator both shoots his wife Kat (played by Australian actress Elizabeth Debicki) and demands to know the location of the ‘plutonium 241’ (which is the final piece of the algorithm and the films’ ‘McGuffin’) are presented more like an experimental video art installation with multiple red-stained images and deliberately distorted sound to be absorbed by the viewer rather than viewed as a traditional narrative.

Classic masterpieces such as Double Indemnity (1944 B. Wilder) and Vertigo (1958 A. Hitchcock) are notorious examples of films which have been written about and canonized with confusing narratives that are still debated; Tenet may join this exclusive club as a film that offers tantalizing ruminations on the socio-political world we live in overtop a science-fiction thriller. As military commander Ives states to the Protagonist ‘stop thinking in linear terms…’

Tenet was released on DVD, Blu-Ray and Ultra HD 4K as well as VOD in December 2020

Death to 2020, which is described as a “mockumentary,” is a critical interpretation of the most important political and social events of 2020 from the perspective of the show’s producers. It is a show, because although the events taking place in it are real events that we all experienced in 2020, the interpretation of these events is fictionalized in a way to make the whole thing a satirical and funny TV show.

In a nutshell, Death to 2020 is a cleverly written, well-executed, and well-produced TV show that reminds us of old-school satirical TV shows that mocked their own times

The plot of the show is as follows: the main political and social events of 2020 are chronologically retold and summarized for the audience while the fictional characters of the show, who are kind of “confused” in their own ways, start commenting on the events as if they were part of an absurd reality show.

The mockumentary takes the U.S. presidential election of 2020 as the most salient event in the regular schedule of a globalized world. The U.S. election is the most commented event in the show along with the outbreak of the COVID19 pandemic. According to the show – and it is hard to disagree – the election was between two candidates who were too old and unqualified to be the president of the world’s last declining hegemon, and created an impossible dilemma for the voters.

The campaign process of the U.S. elections shows two different Americas according to the show. However, polarization and increasing anger between the two sides are not something unique to American society. The whole world is being divided into factions and polarized, while ordinary people are becoming increasingly radicalized. This polarization is exacerbated by social media companies, which sell their users’ private information for a profit. It is, in fact, hard to disagree with these arguments.

Covid-19, which was a shock to everyone in 2020, is dealt with in depth in Death to 2020. In general, the Western world and particularly two leaders – Donald Trump in the U.S. and Boris Johnson in the U.K. – are criticized in the mockumentary. It is true that the timing of the pandemic could not have been worse: both national countries and international institutions were going through a process of dramatic change.

Technology is speeding up everything, polarization and xenophobia have hit a peak, economic recession and trade wars threaten regular people all around the globe, authoritarian tendencies are on the rise even in democratic states, climate change has become ever more serious, and many more problems of the so-called modern age have come together – all this, when the virus hit the world.

As a result, the timing and the scale of the pandemic gained great popularity in conspiracy circles. Although, this is mocked in the show, when one wonders about the origin of the virus and conspiracy theories around it, it is not that surprising that there are suspicions about its origins and timing.

Other issues are mentioned as well such as the massive Beirut port explosion, the Harvey Weinstein legal case which sparked the #MeToo movement, Brexit, Megxit (the break of Prince Harry and his American wife Meghan Markle from the British royal family), the growing popularity of social media and particularly YouTube and Netflix, and the role of WhatsApp groups and other social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok in spreading false information, creating paranoia, and consolidating the age of the post-truth.

When one looks at all these headlines and many other shocking events around the world that are not featured in the show, it is not hard to see what a crazy and perplexing environment we live in. The only conclusion one can reach is that we are all stuck in a powerful whirlpool that resembles a black hole.

Loaded with gallows humor, Death to 2020 is an appropriate retrospective of the year. Reality has become so surreal and absurd that there is nothing left but to mock it all. In the end, Death to 2020 is worth watching in order to come face to face with our new reality.

The Italian director Gianfranco Rosi’s film Notturno (2020) is a compelling meditation on life in and around the borders of Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon. The film offers a critique of foreign, colonial and extremist meddling within the region in terms of constructed borders and disaffected citizenry while presenting a visual style that consists of slow-moving landscape and a story-telling approach that leans on oblique characters that display withdrawn emotion. At times the film seems to be a deliberate anachronism to the images of conflict from the region that viewers have become accustomed to.

Observational Documentary

Notturno is an interesting work both because of its subject matter and its formal approach. It partially presents itself in the tradition of Poetic Documentaries such as G. Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi (1982) which both translates as ‘Life out of Balance’ and evokes both the beauty and absurdity of humans and the planet.

The difference with Rosi’s film is that he introduces and follows a number of subjects or characters and touches upon harsher and even brutal elements of life in the region of Iraq and Syria while consistently maintaining a kind of distance.

Rosi spent three years living in the border areas of Iraq, Syria and Lebanon and there is an obvious ‘verite’ feeling to some of the scenes- he reportedly accumulated 90 hours of footage which both lends a veracity to the project while also making the complete edit feel too long at times and lacking a clear structure.

Some of the most disturbing scenes in the film are also the ones that fit the least in terms of the formal structure and tone; a series of interviews between therapists and children who recount the horrors of life in Syria or under Daesh. The children recount graphic accounts of beheadings and depict ISIS (Daesh) leader Al-Baghdadi alongside his followers in drawings with particular emphasis given to Yazidi victims.

The film opens with a series of marching soldiers passing under a majestic sky and this theme of unobtrusively allowing events to unfold comprises much of Notturno; we see everything from a drum beater of Ramadan wandering the streets to wake people from their slumber and rise for the pre-dawn meal to the sounds of gunfire to a boy cleaning his gun on guard duty to wider imagery of an American convoy of jeeps and SUV tanks and a refugee camp.

In almost all of these cases throughout the film the director gives little clue as to where this is taking place and has deliberately re-blurred borders and asked the audience to either hypothesize on location or get swept up in the idea of a conflict so complex and multi-faceted that it becomes meaningless to know where exactly on the map you are.

Oblique dramatics include a series of audio messages with a distraught mother whose daughter is being held ransom by ISIS which eventually dwindle to nothing but remembrances of the missing young woman as well as the absurd sight of a single car ferry transporting its load near a destroyed bombed-out bridge.

One sequence that does give more clues involves a group of women YPG militants holding guns and later retreating to their barracks, taking off their shoes. They cook and watch training videos on a tablet with the red, white and green flag visible on their soldiers. This and the American flag are the only ones noticeable over the course of the film.

Another episode early in the film includes a wailing mother who revisits the eerily empty prison (which is in Erbil, Iraq) where the son died- the scene proves both distant and uncomfortable to the viewer.

A later scene offers a birds-eye view of another prison yard (again the location is unclear) where orange-clad male prisoners have their limited exercise walk; little to no context is given and this scene proves disturbing because it plays out in real time and later cuts to close-up shots of them with hands cuffed behind their backs.

There is both a banality and silence to the scene as the viewer tries to reconcile media representations and earlier references in the film (ISIS/Daesh) with the state-sponsored retribution that is unfolding.

Theatre of the Absurd

This most compelling part of Notturno is the casting, direction and performance of a play on the history of Iraq called ‘Homeland’ that takes place in a psychiatric ward; the viewer is first greeted by images of wailing patients and then witness the director (a doctor) choose six patients to act in his play.

A video montage is projected in the background that provides glimpse of archival context that has been missing throughout the film- Assad, Saddam, burning oil fields, American invasion… from Monarchy to Republic to Daesh. The doctor-director gives the patient-actors scripts to memorize and the viewer witnesses both this strange approach to rehabilitation and a fiercely dedicated troupe of misfit performers express their collective outrage at the loss of their country.

One of the actors shouts ‘no to America… no to Iran’ as another video montage throws a blitz of imagery that reveals colonial roots to Iraqi civil war alongside a ‘Palestine is Lost’ mantra; Notturno seems about to end with an Arabic song of lament and the close-up of the actors but instead the film turns back to imagery of the everyday (one of the earlier characters, Ali and his silent work assisting bird hunters).