08 · 27 · 26

ALL THAT'S LEFT OF YOU: Cherien Dabis on Creation in Times of Destruction

• All That’s Left of You (2025), by the Palestinian-US-American filmmaker Cherien Dabis, premieres in Mexican theaters this August 27.

• The film was featured in the lineup of the 23rd Morelia International Film Fest, where the screenwriter, producer, and actress presented it herself.

All That’s Left of You (2025) evolved from being a production about Palestine’s historical memory into becoming a project interrupted by its present, since—just days before starting filmming—the October 7, 2023 attack took place and, immediately afterwards,  Israel launched the retaliation campaign against Gaza. For our Palestinian-US-American filmmaker and protagonist Cherien Dabis this implied several things: the first one, the challenge; but, secondly, the perseverance to keep going despite everything and as best as one could. This came from the realization that what is portrayed in the film was vital for international audiences. Today, more than ever, it is imperative to insist on the fact that October 7 was a symptom of a long and bloody dispossession that started many decades ago, when the State of Israel was established on Palestinian territory.

Contrary to what people might think, Dabis does not dwell exclusively on the horror and protest. In order to strengthen her argument, Dabis prefers to highlight the beauty of everything that has been stripped from the Palestinian people. The film begins shortly before the Nakba in 1948 [which is literally translated from the Arabic as ‘the catastrophe’ and makes reference to the forced expulsion of over 700,000 Palestinians] and shows us the orange trees, the small palaces, and some of Palestinian poetry that were violently torn down and continue to be so to the present day. Despite all of this, Dabis does not film out of resentment, but rather by asking how occupiers and victims can see each other as human beings. The answers offered by All That’s Left of You are absolutely not rose-coloured nor naive; on the contrary, the exposure of cruelty inhabits almost the entire film; however, there does exist a faith that appeals to the shared humanity of all its characters.

During our conversation at the 23rd Morelia International Film Fest, Dabis proves to be the driving force behind the film: her speech is calm and eloquent, and her presence, harmonious. What she represents as a human being is mirrored in her art and her words.

The following is the complete interview, edited for better understanding.

FICM: So, the production of the film was canceled due to October 7, is that correct? Could you tell us a bit more about the whole process of starting all over again? 

Cherien Dabis: That's right! Basically, we planned to shoot the whole movie in Palestine. I spent around five months in the locations working alongside my local crew and, of course, with the assistance of foreign crews that arrived throughout the summer of 2023 and then in early October of that same year. We already had a lot of work done: we had found all our locations, and we even started setting up in some of them. We had a large warehouse filled with meticulously crafted props and, certainly, chosen to match their respective time periods. We were truly ready. We were two weeks away from starting the shoot when October 7 happened. Evidently, in a few days we realized it would not be possible to film in Palestine as it had been originally planned. At that moment, we were in Ramallah, in the West Bank; however, the cities across the West Bank were being cut off and sealed. The situation was extremely tense because the checkpoints were closing. At some moment, we heard the rumor that even the border with Jordan was going to close, so, in case we’d stayed, it was likely we wouldn’t have been able to get out. Sure enough, my foreign crew was tremendously terrified. Their families were highly anxious, so we were forced to start the evacuation of people, but we had no idea where to go or whether we could continue shooting or not. Of course, all the funding we invested in Palestine had already been spent and we couldn't even film there! We had to start all over again.

We went to Cyprus, where originally we planned to shoot a small percentage of the film, but it was only ten percent! We had to add weeks of pre-production because the producers there were not ready yet. Finally, we could start shooting in Cyprus at the end of November of 2023, and I keep waiting for us to be able to come back to Palestine. Unfortunately, the situation simply didn’t get better, in fact, it kept getting worse and worse, as we all already know. We ended up going to Jordan, where we had to start all over. Again! We had to look for locations all over again. I had to replace some of the members of the crew because, evidently, they could no longer work on the project or they were too afraid to commit to the film even after all this whole situation had ended, and, of course, I had to rearrange some of the roles.

I would say it was a very dramatic experience and this is a subject truly unprecedented in film history. It is quite uncommon to have to rebuild a film completely. To be completely honest, we made the film in a state of crisis. We were facing a logistical and financial crisis, and we kept having to start and stop, to start and stop. At the end of the day, we ended up shooting more than 50% of the film in Jordan—more specifically, in the refugee camps in northern Jordan—which was actually awesome because we had the opportunity to work with the Palestinian refugee community on what is truly telling their own story.

Then, after that period of time in Jordan, we had to stop for several months in order to find more funding and figure out where to go next; however, we ended up shooting the rest of the film in Greece. It took us around eleven months from the start of the production until we finally finished it. This was the number of times we had to stop and start over again. At this point, you could imagine that a production that could have taken us about three months, ultimately, took us eleven months. It was emotionally draining, but equally satisfying to have this film as a true gift for all of us. It was very relieving to be able to pour ourselves into this film while we were witnessing a genocide in Gaza and feel that we could do something to truly tell the story of Palestine and tell the world how it all started in 1948—actually, long before 1948, but that is the year we, as Palestinians, mark as the Nakba. What started back then truly never ended. For that reason, we all completely devoted ourselves to this film. All our love, grieving, compassion, and rage are portrayed in this film in some way or another. It was profoundly beautiful to be able to make art during a time of such destruction.

FICM: It gives us the impression that there was a very strong determination to recreate Palestine, despite being so far from your motherland. Of course, you wanted to show the whole world that Palestine goes beyond its refugee camps, that Palestine is its poetry, and its orange trees.

Cherien Dabis: Yes, absolutely! I did want to accentuate our national treasures because, you know, so often all the world sees is our pain or the violence that occurs here. I am Palestinian-US-American, and the world only perceives us as either victims of violence or as perpetrators of it. I grew up mostly in the diaspora or, in other words, I was often going back to Palestine as a child, so I tried to depict the beauty of our culture, the beauty of our people, the beauty of our poetry, and basically the beauty of everything we used to have before. Everything was irremediably lost, but I am aware that it is hard for everyone else to really understand what we are fighting for if nobody knows exactly what we had and how we used to live. In fact, the Palestinian narrative has just been silenced. It has been simply erased, it has been wiped out. In this case, how can anyone know what we’ve lost if they don’t know what we had? Therefore, it was essential to me to recreate Palestine in a very authentic way, particularly the 1948 part, since we’ve never seen what urban Palestine looked like then. That is the truth, we’ve never seen this period of time portrayed in film history. That is the reason why we put so much effort into recreating this.

Evidently, it became far more difficult once we were forced to flee Palestine; however, we did find subversive ways to film in Palestine. We filmed some wide shots in order to capture more images of Jaffa, and then we fully reconstructed them through 3D visual effects so we could make them historically accurate and show what Jaffa looked like in 1948. For instance, there is a wide shot of the Clock Tower Square, which was filmed by using VFX, but that same shot we had to rebuild it for 1948. There is a drone shot filmed from the sea that tilts to reveal Jaffa in 1948,  and that is how we presented the city of Jaffa in 1948 at the beginning of the film. We had to recreate that with visual effects, and it was really crucial to me to do it right. We had to use plenty of historical photographs to do enough research and make sure every detail was accurate.

This makes me reflect on the visual nature of the cinematic medium. In literature, for example, you can make a description of things, places, people, and readers have to imagine them. However, I do believe that it is more touching if they see these things instead, and also, when they watch these details, that’s when they see the oppression and abuse Palestinians have faced.

FICM: Tell us about the importance of showing all of this on screen.

Cherien Dabis: Well, this is very important not only to me, but also to everyone else because I really think that the world has become very heartless in terms of the violence we, Palestinians, suffer. This violence has become so ‘normal’ that even the world already expects it. We all expect violence. We all expect the suffering of Palestinians. This is what’s ‘normal’ nowadays, but it must be clear that this is not normal. It shouldn’t be normal. Too often we see violence from a cold and a detached perspective. Too often we see or hear the number of Palestinians killed or injured. And too often the news doesn’t even tell the fact that Palestinians are being killed and murdered. They say that Palestinians are dead. This is a very passive voice that truly never tells us how they died or who was responsible for their deaths. In this way, my purpose was to show not only the physical violence, but also the different forms of violence Palestinians experience under the occupation. I wanted to show the emotional impact of that violence on human beings because that’s the part the media leaves out. That’s the part the rest of the world doesn’t get to understand or see.

I do believe that if we see from this perspective, it totally makes a difference. You know? In the film, there is a scene inspired by something I witnessed as a child with my own father. In this scene, you really see the emotional violence perpetrated against Palestinians—the humiliation, the harassment—and you see its emotional impact on the individual, on this Palestinian man. Shortly after, you can see the scars this violence leaves on the relationship between the man and his son. The son witnesses that violence and, therefore, the father he once admired as a hero suddenly appears different to him, and this affects their relationship for the rest of their lives. So, I wanted the world to really be aware of the effects of violence on people because, yes, as I said, that’s the part we don’t get to see. Nevertheless, as Palestinians, we are deeply familiar with how violence affects us every day and how it shapes our lives and our families.

FICM: Going back to something you mentioned earlier, we wanted to point out that you call the city—and I think this is very important—Jaffa, and the characters also call it Jaffa, not Tel Aviv. As the film progresses, there is a scene in which the characters ask themselves ‘Why are these Europeans coming to take our land?’ I think that’s very brave. We wanted to ask you: Does it take a lot of courage to tell these stories in today’s world?

Cherien Dabis: Well, it’s fun because, as a Palestinian, I don’t see it as particularly brave. Of course, there could be some people that see what I’m doing and perceive it that way. But, definitely, from my perspective, I only see it as a way of sharing our experience, one that really hasn’t been shown before anywhere. I think that’s truly vital. It’s missing, but it’s essential to understand the difficult situation Palestine faces in its pursuit of justice and freedom. I think that most of the people don't understand our plight because it is not possible to understand it if you don’t look back in time and understand how it all started. You can go much further back than 1948, because it started before 1948, but it was really in that year when the State of Israel was established. From that moment on, you see the ethnic cleansing suffered by Palestine in 1948, and the dispossession of nearly 800,000 Palestinians from their homeland. This was, in fact, the beginning of the refugee crisis, which continued in 1967—the year my father became a refugee. That is the reason why I think it is very important to understand our history: to know how we got to where we are today.

FICM: Did acting in and directing the same film feel especially emotional for you, considering the subject and the context in which it was made?

Cherien Dabis: It was definitely very moving, especially taking into account what we were witnessing at that moment. I mean, we were shooting a film during the genocide. We found ourselves making a film about a genocide as it was actually happening. We found ourselves making a film about the 1948 Nakba while witnessing a much greater Nakba unfold. So, yes, it was profoundly emotional, and I would say that it was emotionally draining, but it was deeply cathartic to let ourselves truly cry. I remember the actors and actresses, as well as myself talking a lot about this during the shoot. It felt like we weren’t acting at all, but channeling our own pain and the pain we were witnessing. We embraced catharsis as a way to move through the pain. So, in a way, it became a gift. You know? Playing this role was one of the greatest gifts and one of the greatest challenges of my life. From acting, I learned a lot from my character because she moves through the pain and tries to find a way to channel her pain into something productive, into something beneficial. I think it’s beautiful to do so, especially for those of us who have certain privileges, those of us who are not directly experiencing the violence. I believe that to be truly useful in this world, it’s better not to dwell in these negative emotional states, such as anger. At least for me, when I look at a state of anger, I think: ‘Well, anger has never really helped solve a situation. So, what can we do to channel that anger into action, into something that truly helps move a situation forward in a positive way or helps other people?’ I mean, if you can move through your own anger, then perhaps you can help others do the same. That was something I was exploring in the film—both as a writer-director, but also as an actress. It was beautiful to learn from the character.

FICM: As we watched the film, we had the impression that perhaps its most important theme is the idea of compassion as a form of resistance. Is that correct?

Cherien Dabis: Indeed. It was one of the most fundamental things I was thinking about during the genocide, because it was awful to witness it and really hard not to feel outraged. I kept asking myself: How do we avoid staying in that state? How can we really look at anger? How can I understand the anger I’m feeling right now as an expression of compassion? The main reason why I am so outraged is because I feel so much empathy for the suffering I’m watching. So, how can I grab this fierce compassion and transform it into something useful? Without any doubt, staying in a state of anger—especially of rage—can feel deeply paralyzing. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I didn’t want to stay there. I wanted to find a way to channel it into something. By doing so, I was really diving into this film, hoping it would awaken compassion in people and inspire them to act in order to stop suffering. That’s what we truly need right now. 

FICM: Just one last question. We found it fascinating that the film opens with you telling the story to the camera, which is at the end revealed to be from an Israeli point of view. Who would you say is the film for?

Cherien Dabis: My purpose was that the audience believed—and what I actually think the audience believes—that I’m talking directly to them. In reality, I made this film with two audiences in mind. On one hand, I made it for my own community because, of course, you can imagine how cathartic it is to watch our history portrayed on screen for the first time; on the other hand, I intended this film to be for an international audience as well—including the Palestinian and Arabic communities. I really wanted to represent the Palestinian experience, and a very realistic one within cinema. Despite the film being about a single family, it would be difficult to find a Palestinian who doesn’t see themselves represented in some way in this film. So, in a way, this film is about every Palestinian family. Above all, I made this film specifically for people who don’t know much about us, about the Palestinian community, about the Palestinian narrative. I wanted them to watch the movie. That’s why, at the beginning of the film, I talk to them. I deliberately chose to speak to a community of people who might want to know more, but don’t know much. I find it interesting that I made that decision long before 2023 because back then I felt that so many people around the world didn’t know  how we got here. That was the story I wanted to tell. I didn’t have a single hint that this would become more relevant by the end of 2023 and 2024 with everything that happened. Nowadays, there are many more people around the world who want to know more. I hope this film could speak to them directly.

Translated by Michelle Olvera