Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk | TIFF50

Most people going into Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk likely know how it ends. Despite this, when the moment comes, it utterly devastates you. 

The film tells its story through a series of video calls between director Sepideh Farsi and young Palestinian photographer, Fatma Hassona. It begins with Fatma’s dreams of the end of the occupation and ends with the utterly devastating murder of Fatma and her family by the Israeli occupying forces right before the film was set to premiere at Cannes.

Knowing the fate of the film’s subject, only adds to the weight of each moment highlighted by Farsi. It is all the more poignant in the moments in between phone calls - we see Fatma’s moving photographs of the people of Gaza, we hear her poetry, we feel the strum of her guitar. Seeing Gaza through Fatma’s eyes, the deep love that she had for her people and her land are clear and moved me to tears. 

We also see the horrors - the blood stained streets, the smoke, the devastation, the pain. There are multiple moments where we hear Fatma’s recordings of bombings in her neighbourhood and we are transported to the fear and terror of that moment immediately and completely. 

The approach that Farsi takes to directing this film is visceral. We laugh alongside Fatma as she jokes and laughs, dreaming of pieces of chocolate and travel. We cry as we see Fatma’s continual displacement, see her hope dwindle, her internal retreat. 

Throughout the film, their phone calls are punctuated by constant interruptions - signals dropped, phone reconnection warnings, bombings. Farsi films in a way that makes you feel like you are directly in conversation with Fatma, as if you two are video chatting as old friends. You feel Farsi’s anxiety as Fatma does not pick up the phone, as the phone connection continually drops - these seemingly practical moments, are so deeply moving and affecting. 

As the film came to a close, names scrolled across the screen honouring lives that could not be contained and hope that will not be forgotten. I sobbed. For Fatma, for her family, for her friends, and the thousands of Gazans who have suffered the same fate. The tears came and could not stop. This is an absolute necessary watch.