Films turn world gaze to Gaza

Once considered too political, too risky, or too marginal to distribute, Palestinian and Palestine-centred films have become the urgent cinema of our moment, surging to the forefront of international festivals and finding audiences in the wake of unrelenting genocide in Gaza.

When No Other Land won the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature earlier this year, it was both a breakthrough and a reminder of the hurdles Palestinian stories still face. The film, which chronicled the displacement of families in the West Bank, struggled to secure a US distributor.

Miami Beach's mayor branded it "propaganda" and tried to strip funds from a theatre screening it. The filmmakers released it independently, and despite political headwinds, the documentary drew sell-out crowds and earned $2.5 million domestically.

The victory underscored a paradox: global acclaim coupled with fierce resistance at home. But less than a year later, the climate has shifted. Titles touching on Gaza and the broader Palestinian experience are now hotly pursued at international markets.

Annemarie Jacir's Palestine 36 - the country's Oscar submission —premieres at Toronto with US rights secured by Watermelon Pictures. The same distributor has also picked up Cherien Dabis' Sundance hit All That's Left of You, a multi-generational Palestinian drama now Jordan's official Oscar contender.

And at Venice, Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania's The Voice of Hind Rajab - the haunting story of a six-year-old girl killed in an Israeli bombardment - received roaring applause, with sales across Europe already confirmed.

"Palestine 36, All That's Left of You, and The Voice of Hind Rajab are probably the three biggest films ever to touch on the subject of Palestine," says Watermelon Pictures co-founder Hamza Ali. "And they're all coming at the same time."

The appetite is not just commercial but political. Samuel Blanc of The Party Film Sales, which represents The Voice of Hind Rajab, describes the market's response as "really, really strong," noting that buyers see themselves as carriers of a political message as much as distributors of art.

For Watermelon Pictures' founders Hamza and Badie Ali, both of Palestinian descent, this is precisely the point. "There's been misrepresentation in film of our community for a long time," Badie says. "The atrocities in Gaza woke us up. If we weren't going to do this, no one was."

They credit social media with reshaping perceptions. Images once hidden now circulate freely, shifting conversations. "The next step," says Badie, "is using cinema to deepen empathy and bring light to other struggles."

Yet obstacles remain steep in the US. "Distributors are cautious, because these films take a stance," Hamza admits. When Watermelon backed projects like From Ground Zero and The Encampments, they knew few others would.

Threats against theatres, ad rejections, and pressure campaigns followed. Still, the brothers sense a broader shift: "We've been pleasantly surprised. The industry is opening."

That shift has extended well beyond North America. At Cannes, Sepideh Farsi's Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk, an essay on Gaza photojournalist Fatima Hassouna - killed with nine family members in an Israeli strike - was snapped up by Kino Lorber for US distribution. Since then, it has sold across Europe, Japan, Australia and Canada.

But not all stories fit market expectations. Arab and Tarzan Nasser's Once Upon a Time in Gaza, a darkly comic thriller, earned strong reviews in Cannes but struggled to find buyers. "The market wanted something overtly political," Blanc notes. "This film mixed genres. Its being Palestinian was political enough, but apparently not the kind distributors were seeking."

Still, Blanc believes the political vacuum left by limited reporting from Gaza is fuelling demand. "People feel powerless. Supporting these films is one thing they can do."

That urgency has also reached Venice, where the world's oldest film festival became a stage for Palestinian solidarity. On opening day, protesters unfurled a "Stop the Genocide" banner outside the Palazzo del Cinema. Days later, Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos walked the red carpet wearing a Palestinian flag pin, his silent gesture amplified online.

More than 1,500 members of Italy's film industry signed Venice4Palestine's open letter urging organisers to amplify Palestinian voices and denounce Israeli actors like Gal Gadot, who has openly backed Israel's military campaign. Though festival director Alberto Barbera insisted Venice remain a forum for dialogue, not boycott, the pressure was undeniable.

The crescendo came with the premiere of The Voice of Hind Rajab. Backed by Brad Pitt and Joaquin Phoenix, the film has become the emotional epicentre of this year's competition.

Thousands marched through Venice's Lido district during the festival, carrying Palestinian flags and chanting "Free, Free Palestine." Organisers called it the largest protest ever seen at a major film event.

Hollywood itself has felt the tremors. In May, pro-Palestinian activists disrupted Gal Gadot's London shoot for The Runner, forcing the actress to leave the set. A former Israeli soldier and vocal supporter of Israel's war in Gaza, Gadot has faced repeated protests and boycotts, her last film Snow White collapsing at the box office amid controversy.

For Ben Hania, the urgency of cinema lies not in politics but humanity. "I'm not an activist. I have no political power," she says. "I have one tool - cinema. With Hind Rajab, at least I wasn't complicit. I wasn't silenced."

Festival jury president Alexander Payne struck a cautious note, declining to echo Cannes' open denunciations. Films, he argued, may not alter global politics, but they endure as "essential historical documents reflecting societal awareness."

That awareness is perhaps the most important shift of all. From the Oscar stage to the red carpets of Venice, Palestine has entered cinema's bloodstream - not as a marginal subject but as a defining one. Where once Palestinian filmmakers were forced to shout into the void, now their stories echo across theatres worldwide.

The breakthrough is fragile, contested, and deeply politicised. But for the artists carrying the stories of Gaza and the West Bank to the world, it is proof of something long denied: that Palestinian lives, losses and voices are not just material for headlines, but for history.