Hot Docs 2024: The Poem We Sang (by Annie Sakkab) | Review
The Poem We Sang is an anthem to memory, resilience, and the dignity of a people grappling with injustice and brutality. Annie Sakkab’s remarkable and powerful short film premiered at Hot Docs 2024.
In the streets of Bethlehem, time seemed to stand still as young Annie walked alongside her beloved uncle, Elias. “You walked in rhythm. You looked far beyond the sky. You looked like you were dreaming of a home with no walls. You paused for a while and you sang a poem to me.” That’s how Palestinian-Jordanian-Canadian filmmaker Annie Sakkab recalls the moments spent with her uncle. In The Poem We Sang, which just celebrated its world premiere at Hot Docs 2024, the director addresses her deceased uncle, emotionally remembering the tragic fate of a man who experienced the Nakba in 1948.
The Poem We Sang is primarily a poignant and personal reverie that transcends the boundaries of time. A journey through personal memory, an intimate odyssey through the dreams, memories, and pains of the filmmaker, as well as her family, and an entire people.
Through Annie’s memories, the past and the present merge in a graceful ballet. The film is constructed as a reflection that moves from idea to idea. The narrative isn’t straightforward; it pauses on details from Annie’s childhood in Palestine—images, colors, objects, sounds. With a subtle “rewind” effect, the director rewinds time, putting into perspective memories of her own history and that of her uncle, forced into exile like so many other Palestinians in 1948.
The brilliant and inspired editing guides the viewer through this introspective journey. Archives, present-day footage, children’s drawings, stylistic effects… Different regimes of images succeed each other, overlap, juxtapose, creating a visual kaleidoscope where memories and emotions intertwine. Images sometimes emerge abruptly. Bethlehem’s streets are filmed from a child’s perspective then transform before our eyes, shifting from the innocence of childhood to the brutality of war and the 1948 exodus. A classroom suddenly becomes a field of ruins. The film possesses the dual value of being a journey into the filmmaker’s memory and into the memory of an entire people. The screen occasionally divides into three to offer a window into the documented history of the Nakba. The editing brings all these images as visual stimuli that emerge like enduring, indelible memories, always present.
At the heart of this whirlwind of images and sensations lies a poem, the guiding thread of this film. It is the song of Uncle Elias, a heritage passed down through generations, a balm for the soul of a wounded people.
And as the film approaches its climax, the poem emerges like a beacon in the storm, illuminating the screen with its poetry and evocative power. It is a moment of catharsis, where sorrow mixes with emotion and pride, where hope is reborn from its ashes. For even amidst ruins, even in the heart of tragedy, there is always a poem to sing, a light to follow in the darkness.
This is also conveyed by the beautiful music composed by Tareq Jundi. Tinged with a hint of nostalgia, it remains profoundly moving for its brightness and its ability to celebrate a form of resilience. The music takes the form of that flickering flame of humanity, one that may waver but can never be extinguished.
The Poem We Sang is an anthem to memory, resilience, and the dignity of a people grappling with injustice and brutality. Through the twists and turns of her own family history, Annie Sakkab gives voice to an entire people. The Poem We Sang invites us to remember, to reflect, and to sing together the poem of life.
This review was written in collaboration with Aurélie Géron.
