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Monday, November 05, 2007

Arab American Film Festival


My daughter and I went to a few screenings at the Arab American Museum's Film Festival on November 3. It is a beautiful building. On the way to the auditorium, I saw some art work by I.M. I use only the initials since the artist wishes to remain anonymous.
Anonymous, I thought, yet Acronymous:
I.M. indeed! I know who the artist is. When I see signs of peace enclosed within a climate controlled glass case, looking for all the world as if they were ancient mummies under the control of Zahi Hawass, I know who is responsible. I know who's behind it all when I see the signs enwrapt in gilded wire, imprisoned and forced to our rude gaze, while we abuse these ancient icons with our uncomprehending eyes. Eyes wild with inchoate desires...

Well, on to the film.
We saw Ar-RaHalat ul-Kubraa or, as it was translated, Le Grand Voyage, or "The Great Trip". It was about a father's Hajj to Mecca.

The father, portrayed by Muhammad Majd, was driven to Mecca by his youngest son, played by Nicolas Cazale. The family lived in France, having emigrated from Morocco some long time past. At the beginning of the film, there were various attributions and kudos to a couple of choses de Maroc, so I thought perhaps the trip was from Morocco to Mecca. However, it became clear that the trip was through Europe, and would be even longer than the trek across North Africa to Arabia.

The Arabic title actually means "The Greatest Trip", or Le Voyage Le Plus Grand, and not merely a great trip among other possibilities. Since this is the father's one and only Hajj, and since the son was brought up more French than Moroccan, or more secular than Muslim, this is a great and singular voyage to adulthood and a preliminary approach to the holy traditions that are the warp and weft of humankind.
Afterwards there was a panel discussion. I became unruly and said unfortunate things. The security forces hustled me upstairs past ullulating women who keened my passing in despair, reaching out to touch me and saying "Dummuzi!" I was thrown ignominiously into an exterior cul-de-sac which had a sign titled: The Dustbin of History!



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