In
Rashid Masharawi’s Laila’s Birthday (Eid
Milad Laila), Abu Laila (Mohammed Bakri) is a personified
incongruity of an ex-judge working as a taxi driver
in Ramallah as means of subsistence. The film tracks
a single day in the life of Abu. The opening sequence
peers into the bedrooms of Abu and his daughter as
he wakes in the middle of the night to check on her
to quell his nagging worry despite the calm. In the
morning, Abu’s wife insists that he return before
8 pm, as it his daughter Laila’s birthday. However,
through a series of arbitrary circumstances, he is
entangled in the chaotic existence of daily life in
Ramallah.
Abu’s
travails take him from the comfort and warmth of his
home, through the absurdity of the government, and
into the commonplace incidents of violence in the
city that leave the witness incredulous. Abu’s
request for an appointment as a judge is lost in the
mazes of a governance in perpetual transition, one
without any tangible authority. So is his existence
as a law-abiding citizen. Prominent stickers warn
off smokers along as well as armed passengers.
In Ramallah, a city where an hour on the internet
costs more than an hour in a taxi, lovers seek the
backseat for a tryst and solitude. It is also a city
where at any moment an explosion can destroy the equanimity.
Abu’s rage is directed at personal and individual
transgressions till in a final poignant outburst,
it addresses the larger conflict in question.
After a fashion Abu’s professional existence
is emblematic of the lives of people in Ramallah in
their struggle to maintain a semblance of order amidst
the turmoil and strife. Abu is an island in his own
brand of individualism; the dollops of intellect and
sensitivity constantly contrasting with the surrounding
events. Mohammed Bakri slides effortlessly underneath
the skin of Abu with the simple gesture of buttoning
his collar; he lives on the screen as Abu Laila.
At
the end of the day, Abu returns home with neither
the birthday cake, nor a present for his only child.
But he has the accretions of the fateful day –
a rosary necklace, a cake left behind by a bereaved
widow and the accidental wedding decorations on his
car; all coming together as a fortunate coincidence.
Abu
Laila ultimately voices the politics of the Gaza-born
director Masharawi, at times subtly and on occasion
in not-so-subtle terms. Abu and the people he meets
and interacts with establish the fabric of Palestinian
life and society under occupation.
Manish
Golder
© FIPRESCI 2008