West Bank Story

A few days ago there was a rerun of that special edition of The Fabulous Picture Show which featured, in its 20 minute entirety, Ari Sandel’s award-winning short the West Bank Story. This is the first time I watch it, and also the first time I realize that it is possible to use the phrase “a laugh a minute” without exaggeration. Or sarcasm. The film’s sending up of stereotypes through spoof, music, comedy and dance was, Sandel said “a way of abstracting the story of the conflict” making it more “accessible and lighthearted” through “taking the suffering out of it so that people can let down their defenses and identify with the characters.” Sandel doesn’t however believe that abstracting the story in this fashion detracts in any way from its serving a real, practical purpose. This purpose appears to be advising viewers who want to keep their sanity not to overindulge in watching news. As Angela Carter’s Dora said: “you listen to the news that’ll take the smile off your face.” Or, as Sandel put it: “If you watch enough news, you’ll be led to believe that this is going to go on forever.” He, on the other hand, believes “peace between the two sides is inevitable”. This idealistic aim is reflected in three goals the film was created to achieve: “draw attention, make people laugh and present a positive and balanced position in support of peace”.

Sandel’s all-consuming concern with balance stems from an informed awareness that “most films show only one side of the conflict” and extends to giving the workers at both fast-food stands silly uniforms and approximately the same allotment of jokes. All this seems altogether too serious a balancing act for a short musical comedy. But when it comes to such a “controversial subject” good comedy is hardly going to win everybody over.

As expected, the “heated debate” among Palestinians and Israelis at the end of the programme consisted of several positive responses interspersed between the more frequent, though mild, negative responses. One Israeli called it depressing for being so utterly unlikely, while one Palestinian pedantically pointed out that the ‘Palestinian’ characters in the film incorrectly pronunced hummus. She also insisted that falafel is *Arab* food.

The comments drew the usual exasperated vindications that this is not meant to be realistic, that this is comedy. If you have problems with 20 minutes of laughter you are clearly not an advocate of laughing your way to health, and it’s all got to do with the chip on your shoulder. But, as the film is attempting to get past that chip, it seems that somewhere in those 20 minutes something trips belligerence, and not only on the Palestinian side, as the rather virulently negative comments on this Haaretz article makes clear. Sandel wanted to look at the Palestinian/Israeli situation through a ‘new lens’ – but it seems most people find it difficult to turn away from what is on the news. For some there are subjects ‘too serious’ to be taken so lightly, and the fact that this is where the ‘new’ in ‘new lens’ comes in doesn’t deter the critics.

Incidentally, the Ha’aretz article extends its approval of the film through relaying factually incorrect information at one point, with this paragraph: “Sandel noted that he chose Israeli actors to play the Jewish characters and Palestinian actors to play Hummus Hut workers.” But the female lead is an Indian American, Noureen DeWulf, playing the sweetly/conservatively assertive fast-food cashier Fatima, who at one point is stopped at a checkpoint due to the similarity of the words hummus and Hamas.

That misunderstanding is soon cleared up as David, the Israeli soldier, gives her a long look followed by the pronouncement: “She’s OK.” I can see how this could be funny. Unfortunately though, this one moment of benign ‘paternalistic’ protection offered to the undersized female subaltern in the funny hat has too many all too serious literary precedents and is too reminiscent of reality for me to be able to laugh without gagging. For example, one comment I read somewhere lamented the fact that in the real world those poor oppressed Palestinian women aren’t allowed to dance in mixed company. A sentence swam into my mind: the imperialistic fallacy of the sustained failure to acknowledge the capability of the other to act as subject rather than object of action. Far too irrelevantly serious, and that’s how far that “she’s OK” took me from the comedy. (Also, I had just finished making notes on Nnoromele: Representing the African Woman)

Once Fatima is declared OK, there are sporadic bursts of “but our people hate each other!” as the war escalates, until everything is brought to a crashing finish with David’s knocking down of the wall built by the Kosher King around the Hummus Hut while Fatima very comically wrings her hands. But, on the other hand, agency is given to the Palestinians, and in very liberal doses. Alliteration does play a large part in this short, but these Hummus Hut pseudo-Palestinians are not pacifists. This is adequately demonstrated by the unfortunately hilarious incident when David waves a masked gunman through with an absent-minded ‘have a good time,’ while dreamily gazing after Fatima. There are also send-ups less devastatingly close to reality such as Fatima’s firing of the machine-gun into the ceiling before taking an order.

It seems impossible to ignore the incidents of imbalances which do exist however, perhaps because of the repetitive claims of complete, perfect balance, which come off as unnecessary and at times a little bit condescending. After all this is comedy isn’t it? Its not meant to be realistic, balanced, journalistic, fair, whatever. But if this is a musical comedy that aspires to balance then it is in the interests of that perfect balance that Kosher King actions are balanced against Hummus Hut actions. Kosher King sets a pastry machine too close to the Hut, and then builds a wall. On the Hummus side, Fatima’s brother Ahmed acts in the handy capacity of trouble-instigator and general catalyst. This is so from the first dispute over who is encroaching on whose side of the screen, up to the stone which Ahmed vengefully drops into the Kosher King’s new pastry machine, setting off the simmering tensions, and instigating the war. And the trend continues with Ahmed’s don’t-touch-my-sister posturing, which inadvertently starts the fiery apocalypse, which brings the short to an end, with the Hummus Hut and Kosher King working together serving falafel amidst the wreckage. But this happy ever after is qualified. David and Fatima plan to move to a place where Palestinians and Israelis live together in peace: Beverly Hills.

The debate at the end of the Fabulous Picture Show featured a little patronization, with an Israeli informing a Palestinian that the clicking of the fingers was from West Side Story (in case, you know, the title didn’t ring a bell) there was the aforementioned pronunciation lesson and the tug of war over who owns falafel. And there was an Israeli disapprovingly telling the Palestinians living under occupation that they “overuse” the word occupation. Like a cancer patient would overuse the word cancer, I assume. But there was also clapping and laughter. Because you can’t watch it and not laugh. Don’t listen to the news and it won’t take the smile off your face.

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