It’s a truth universally acknowledged that the worst casualties of wars aren’t just the soldiers on the battlefronts but the women, children and families back home. However, pushed to the brink, they have often displayed strength, courage, resilience and resourcefulness in the face of such desolation and extreme adversity.
Yemeni-Scottish filmmaker Sara Ishaq brings one such admirable story to the screen in her fiction feature debut, Al Mahattah (The Station). A co-production among seven countries—Yemen, Jordan, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway and Qatar—The Station premiered in the Semaine de la Critique (Cannes Critics Week) sidebar in Cannes.
Co-written by Ishaq and Nadia Eliewat, the film was shot in Jordan with a Palestinian/Jordanian crew, with the biggest challenge being that of getting the Yemeni actors out for the shoot in the thick of the Israeli attack on their country.
While Ishaq says she explicitly didn’t want to make an autobiographical film, The Station does draw from her own experience of the grisly reality witnessed in Sana’a in 2015. The film doesn’t specify the place or time it is set in. All we know is that it’s the highly volatile and severely fractured Yemen, hit by both the Civil War and the regional and geopolitical conflicts. With men out to fight the wars, it’s for the women (and a few young boys) to run the show in the denuded towns and villages.
One such enterprising lady, Layal (Manal Al-Mulaiki), manages a women-only gasoline station during an acute fuel shortage. In her business, the rule is straight: “No men, no weapons, no politics.” It hence becomes a refuge from the trauma, devastation, bloodshed and violence of warfare unleashed by men and politics with the aid of weaponry. It’s the liberating place where women can afford to take off their hijab and feel free.
Other enterprises run by women also spring alongside—from a teashop to an old lady’s street vending of smuggled cosmetics and other contraband goods—nail paint, perfumes, lingerie, sunglasses and hairpieces. All this even while cracking rather dark jokes about everyone being broke and in debt.
Things come to a head when Layal’s younger brother Laith (Rashad Khaled) is sought to join the forces, leading her to channel her instinct, intelligence and ingenuity to thwart the attempt. She reaches out for the support of her estranged sister Shams (Abeer Mohammed), who carries the scars of losing her husband and their other brother to the war. Will they be successful this time in saving Laith?
The presence of war looms large in Layal’s oasis of calm, not just because of such an unfortunate turn of events but also because it is evoked through the ominous sounds of planes (sound designer Abu Ghoush) juxtaposed against the images of banal everyday routines (cinematography Amine Berrada), the banter of the band of women and the telling shots of boy martyrs on the run-down walls.
Ishaq’s exploration of the feminine energy acknowledges diversity and flaws. No two women are the same, and none of them is perfect. They are united in their struggle for survival, for which they can go to any length. They are also striving towards the same noble goal: Peace. Their sisterhood and solidarity are moving and inspiring, just as the ensemble of many-splendored women (played by actors, both non-professional and trained and experienced, from Yemen, Egypt and Jordan) makes you instantly connect with them and feel for their predicaments. They truly own the film with their naturalness, candour, and spirit and spark.
No wonder the film is as much about their smiles as it is about the struggles. Even in the devastating times, they don’t abandon their inherent joie de vivre and charming playfulness. The passion for life refuses to leave them as they find happiness in simple things and fleeting moments.
Ishaq crafts a humane document to counter one of the many ongoing humanitarian crises. The Station is a compelling sign of and response to our fractious times.
