For a year, filmmaker Sepideh Farsi recorded her video calls with a young Palestinian photojournalist, Fatma Hassona, creating a vivid and haunting video testimony of her daily life in Gaza.
Through the faltering intimacy of the phone screen, a strong bond develops between the two women, and Fatma’s unfailing resilience creates a powerful contrast to the ongoing devastation and destruction around her. Combining their video calls with Fatma’s arresting images of Gaza, Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk is a testament to this talented photographer, who was killed in an Israeli airstrike a day after the film was selected for Cannes Film Festival.
Ahead of the film’s release in the UK, we spoke to director Sepideh Farsi about the making of the film, the targeting of journalists in Gaza, and Fatma’s legacy.
You start filming from one of your first encounters with Fatma. At what point did you realise that she would be the centre of your film?
In fact, the conversation that starts the film is the very first video call we had. So I was prepared, and I wanted to film right from the beginning, and that’s what you see in the film. I explain to her – although the whole conversation is not seen in the film, as it would have been too long – what my intention is and she accepts and is willing to collaborate. It clicks so instantly between us, and there is a mutual confidence there. So it started right from the beginning, and I was aware instantly that everything had to be recorded, and everything was unique and important.
I think I realised that she would be the centre of my film after our second conversation perhaps, but it was already clear to me after the first call that something special was taking place, and that even if I would make another film with the rest of the material that I had (which I did – I made a short film about a family) I knew this would be something else and something different, and that Fatem, as I called her, would be the centre of the film. So, within the first couple of calls, it was very clear.
The documentary is composed almost entirely of filmed video calls between you and Fatma. How did you approach the form of the film?
What I was looking for was the Palestinian voice from inside Gaza, and I really wanted it to be very present in the film – what their sensations were and what it was like to survive under constant Israeli bombings. It was very important to me that this was one of the main lines of the film. Very quickly, it became clear that one of the other lines would be composed of Fatma’s photography, and the images that I wanted her to send me which she would do only for the film, namely videos, of which only the longest one is ending the film now. I also knew from the beginning that I wanted the film to be dated historically, so I needed part of the news coverage to be present of the events that were taking place during the year I spent filming her and making the film, but I wanted it to be done in a specific way. I didn’t want to download or take clean videos from the news, I wanted my own way of filming and to put my own fingerprints in it.
As you see in the images – the reflection of my hand, sometimes my face or glasses, sometimes a sunbeam – are imprinted on the news footage, and sometimes I zoom in. All of those were done whilst shooting, none of it was added afterwards; they were all part of the initial filming. I had a similar, instinctive way of filming for the video calls – which I did with a handheld, shaky moving camera, captured on a phone filming another phone. I wanted it to be fragile images, I didn’t want clean, 4K, high resolution images, as I felt that for this particular theme and context they would be more lively, and the fact they were more layered would confer something richer to them, rather than the contrary.
As more and more journalists in Gaza are targeted and killed by Israel, Fatma’s photography and the documentary itself emerge as an essential testimony of life under siege. Could you talk about the importance of sharing these eyewitness accounts, directly from Gaza?
The importance of this sharing, and what comes out of it and the emotions we get from it, is that suddenly, through her, through each one of the direct accounts when it happens, Palestinians from Gaza are no longer just figures, unknown people, simple casualties. They are stories and lives that are lost. She had this human and emotional quality, Fatma Hassona, my Fatem, to give a face to many stories. By speaking out loud and sharing her accounts and emotions with me – and, through me, with the rest of the world – she knew what it was for and that it would have reach. We hoped for that, and it did happen.
From the beginning, she knew it was to become a film and be shown in cinemas. Sharing, it’s a very personal and emotional way of documenting this genocide and the Israeli occupation. On top of that, who knew, how could we have guessed that she would be targeted herself? I don’t think she was even conscious of this. She knew there was a risk of death of course, and I was also conscious of this, but none of us thought actively or consciously of a clear targeting of which she and her family would be the victims. I would never have really imagined that.
But her intention throughout the war was to document the Israeli occupation, and the genocide, and destruction, and life under siege. She was very adamant about it, and about sharing it and sending it outside. Modestly, my intention was also to take part in this, and I think it’s really important that we humanise all of the Palestinian stories. This is what the film does, and it is what Fatma did. Each account that comes out, telling us in the first person how they live and what they feel, contributes to sharing the humanity of the Palestinian people with the world.
This is a powerful testament to Fatma and her family, who were killed days after the film’s completion. How do you hope Fatma’s legacy will live on through the film?
As I mentioned in the previous answer, part of it is through who she was – she was such a solo person and had so much energy and was so bright and talented – and this does come across through the film. Her photography is also seen in the film, and I’m trying to share her photos in other ways. A book is being published in France, and hopefully will soon be translated into other languages with her photography. There are also exhibitions being made.
But there is also the film, which is partially our conversations and intimate thoughts and feelings, and partially based on her photography, so her legacy is living in different ways. I think she had a very particular eye and a very particular way of documenting the war. This was different from what I’ve seen in other photographer’s work, certainly due to who she was and the fact that she was a young woman, which conferred something very specific to her gaze. I hope, and will do all that I can, to ensure her legacy will continue to travel, as a tribute to her memory and her family’s.
Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk screens at Bertha DocHouse from Wednesday 20 August. The screening on 20 August will be followed by a Q&A with Sepideh Farsi.