Review of No Other Land (d. Basel Adra, Yuval Abraham, Hamdan Ballal and Rachel Szor, 2024)

      Basel Adra’s first memory was of his father’s arrest. The 28-year-old Palestinian activist, who serves as both the protagonist and co-director of the remarkable new documentary No Other Land, was about five years old then. That places it not long after the Israeli military ordered all residents of Masafer Yatta—the community of scattered, craggy hamlets and hillside farms that he, his family, and their neighbors have called home for decades—to abandon the region in 1999. The ostensible reason behind this forced expulsion was that they were, somehow, trespassing: in 1980, the Israeli military declared the region a training zone for its soldiers, and thus off-limits to its actual inhabitants. As the film’s title asserts, the prospect of leaving Masafer Yatta would find its residents not just giving up their homes but their entire way of life: with Israel’s occupation of the West Bank imposing stringent restrictions on the areas Palestinians can access, the possibility of these families maintaining their agrarian lifestyle in the few, mostly urban alternatives available to them would be virtually nonexistent. So many didn’t leave, instead bearing manifold indignities and acts of violence—the lot of which are considered war crimes by the United Nations—from the Israeli military to this day. This includes Basel’s father Nasser, who became an activist simply by insisting upon his right to remain in his own home. Even after decades of struggle and multiple stints of detention, Nasser remains the embodiment of Wordsworth’s Happy Warrior, rousing and convivial. But No Other Land is more focused on Basel, who’s own manner is equally staunch but noticeably more wearied. Such is the toll of a life lived almost entirely under siege.

 

      This stark contrast between father and son—their degree of vigor seemingly proportionate to their experience on the front lines of their cause—pointedly conveys the present-tense status of their longstanding efforts. Which is to say: there’s no end in sight. Basel’s principal method of resistance centers on the filming of Israeli soldiers with his smartphone whenever they interlope. This footage, rigorously and fearlessly compiled, comprises No Other Land’s most harrowing moments, as we see for ourselves the brutality of the Israeli military’s tactics. With minimal justification and even less compassion, homes are razed, innocents are arrested, and, perhaps most ghoulishly, cement is poured over wells, denying residents access to fresh water. Basel posts these videos on his personal social media accounts, but their engagement rarely exceeds more than a few thousand views. That’s not nothing, but it won’t inspire the sort of outrage that spurs the political action needed to stymie further Israeli encroachment. When an impassioned Israeli journalist (Yuval Abraham, also a co-director) arrives in Masafer Yata to help spread awareness of these atrocities, he initially believes his reporting could help prompt such change. Basel, having seen scores of sympathetic outsiders come to his home with similar aims before leaving in failure, instead preaches patience: “you won’t solve the occupation in 10 days.” With nothing seemingly moving the needle, his grave comportment is more than understandable; one wonders from what well Nasser draws such persistent zeal.

 

      It would be a mistake, though, to take Basel’s solemnity for despondency, as No Other Land is nothing if not a staggering testament to his and his community’s courage. Each subsequent military raid is met with equally fervent resilience, and Basel’s camera refuses to look away even when threatened with arrest (or far worse). The residents match the military’s doggedness—“every week, a home,” is how Basel describes their unofficial policy of slow, agonizing destruction—by rebuilding or renovating the cave dwellings that have served this region’s inhabitants for thousands of years (in one of the film’s most memorable visual asides, we see a flat-screen television mounted on a cave wall). And while initially wary of Abraham’s involvement, he and Basel eventually form a friendship beyond their common cause. Crucially, though, Abraham’s place in this community remains fraught throughout: shortly after arriving in town and explaining his disgust with his country’s policies, a resident scoffs, “so you’re a ‘human rights’ Israeli?” It is to the film’s immense credit that this not-so-rhetorical question is allowed to linger. Abraham’s ideological commitment to the cause is never in doubt, but he returns to his home in Israel most nights, a fact that everyone in Masafer Yata—especially Basel—recognizes. While we see him threatened by soldiers when in Palestine and apparatchiks when appearing on Israeli news networks, the stakes of his involvement in this struggle are fundamentally different than Basel’s. His support is valued, but he remains, rightfully, a supporting player in this story.

 

      It might be just as much of a mistake, though, to downplay that value, since that’s precisely how this astonishingly urgent film was made. Basel and Abraham are joined by fellow activists Hamdan Ballal (who is Palestinian) and Rachel Szor (who is Israeli) as first-time co-directors here, making this a true work of boundary-crossing solidarity. Their joint statement, included in the film's press notes, avows that while their goal with the film is to “resist the reality of Apartheid we were born into,” they acknowledge that they do so “from opposite, unequal sides.” Perhaps that’s just the sort of finely-calibrated delineation that can lead to some semblance of progress against an occupation that’s only growing more depraved by the day; maybe it’s the only one at all. You certainly won’t find such concessions from the Israeli government, to say nothing of our current president’s typically braindead thoughts on the matter. Hollywood has shamefully—if not surprisingly—kowtowed to the latter’s cowardice, as No Other Land remains without a distributor in this country. Even if it secures a (much-deserved) Oscar for Best Documentary Feature next Sunday night, it will remain unavailable for most Americans to watch. As ever, the essential work of activists like Basel, Abraham and Co. faces long odds of being seen by those who need it most. Yet the fight rages on; for us as much as them, there is no other solution.

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Reviewed 2/21/2025