The Hour of Liberation has Arrived

The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

The Hour of Liberation has Arrived is the only first-hand account of the democratic, feminist Popular Front for the Liberation of the Occupied Arabian Gulf. Enabled by recent advances in film technology, the film gave voices to the voiceless to create one of the most direct revolutionary documentaries from the Arab world and beyond.

From: Oman, Asia
Watch: YouTube
Next: Battle of Algiers, Flame, Mortu Nega

Why Watch The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived?

  • For one of the best examples of a revolutionary documentary film, helped by recent technological advances to film equipment
  • It broke boundaries – it was the first film directed by an Arab woman that was screened at Cannes (in 1974)
  • It’s the only first-hand account of the democratic, feminist guerrilla movement against the British backed Sultanate of Oman

The Breakdown

The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived offers the only glimpse of the Popular Front for the Liberation of the Occupied Arabian Gulf, a secular, democratic, feminist revolutionary movement that managed to liberate one third of the Sultanate of Oman. In the region they liberated, the Front launched an extensive program of social reforms, captured in this revolutionary documentary, the most radical being affirmative action for women.

Filmed in 1971, The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived was made possible due to advances in film technology. It brought voices to the voiceless through synch sound (sound recorded at the time of filming). Whilst synch sound had been around since the birth of sound movies, it had only recently become more portable with new hand-held filming equipment that could record sound and video by itself, without a separate sound recorder. Without this advance in technology, this film wouldn’t have been made, as the 800 kilometers that Heiny Srour and her Team had to walk to reach the Front (under the bombing of the British Royal Air Force) would have been dauntingly arduous. The advance in synch sound technology allowed filmmakers, particularly documentary filmmakers, to capture otherwise inaccessible locations. The less intrusive equipment also allowed filmmakers to capture more authentic representations of reality – a truckload of equipment, lighting, and larger crews make people act different to one person filming with a small camera.

The film pieces together stock and live footage, photography, maps, and voice-over narration to create both a first-hand account of the movement, as well as a revolutionary manifesto. The photography and live footage provide the first-hand account of the revolutionaries and their day to day activities, whilst the stock footage, maps, and voice-over narration provide the anti-imperialist impetus that drives them. Its use of a range of media to tell its message looks raw, like a modern, student-made essay film, but this gives the documentary an authenticity that studio-made movies couldn’t replicate. Free from the ties to corporations/companies, governments and heavy, expensive film equipment, Srour could make whatever film she wanted. This is revolutionary cinema at its most direct.

What to Watch Next

You don’t have to turn far to watch more revolutionary cinema. For the big budget films, turn to the brilliant Cuban films sponsored by the USSR such as I Am Cuba and Lucia or Pontecorvo’s docu-drama of the Algerian fight for independence in Battle of Algiers. You can also find gold in lower budget third cinema films such as Flame, Mortu Nega, and Sambizanga.

To see how further technological advances have enabled filmmakers to get even closer to the revolution, check out some films enabled by the digital revolution, such as The Square, Winter on Fire, and The Edge of Democracy.

The Dog Who Wouldn't Be Quiet

Dogs are everywhere. Before the pandemic, ownership seemed to be rising. Everyone either had a dog or knew someone who did, whether it was a neighbor or a colleague who brought their dog into work. Now, with everyone stuck at home, they’ve become even more popular as companions for those living alone and friends for kids. They’re also still the small talk champions (perhaps even more so than babies). Nothing else can get a stranger talking to you better. It’s within this context that The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be Quiet kicks off.

Sebastian’s troubles start when he bumps into a neighbor in the courtyard outside his house, who starts complaining about the noises his dog makes. In what’s quite a funny scene, in an awkward way, Sebastian stands there, under his umbrella in the rain, nodding along to his neighbors monologue. Other neighbors turn up and add to his neighbors complaints and crowding the small courtyard. Right after that scene, Sebastian has a similarly awkward chat with his boss at work. They also don’t want his dog around, and like his neighbors, awkwardly avoid telling him directly.

Solving his troubles at home and work in one, Sebastian moves to the country for a happy life with his dog. But, things don’t end there, as the chain of events started by his less than silent dog keeps progressing. Amongst other things, we’re taken through Sebastian’s different jobs, a clandestine cooperative, and a sudden pandemic. It’s an oddball journey. However, despite how strange the events are to us, Sebastian goes along with them as if they’re completely normal. It’s like he’s resigned himself to the path his dog has placed him on.

His stoic face throughout all these surprises is what makes this film so quietly funny. In a way his role isn’t too dissimilar from the great silent movie comics like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. Whilst he doesn’t perform any stunts like them, the comedy of the film is created around his non-reaction to the things happening around him. Like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, Sebastian is the comedic fall guy for the movie. His misfortune and his acceptance of it exists for everyone to laugh at.

So, if you’re looking for another quietly funny Argentinian satire along the lines of Martin Rejtman (see The Magic Gloves) check out The Day the Dog Wouldn’t be Quiet.

Holy Emy

Emy and her older sister Teresa live alone in Pireaus, the port City within greater Athens, after their mother is forced to return to the Philippines. They survive by avoiding the locals, attending church, and working at the local fish market. However, as their jobs fall through and Teresa grows more heavily pregnant, Emy seeks out Mrs. Christina to put her magical abilities to work. However, in coming out of hiding, Emy risks exposing her talents to the wrong people.

In Holy Emy, Emy and Teresa barely look old enough to care for themselves. They both look like teenagers but neither are in school – Teresa works at the local fish market, whilst Emy avoids most human contact now that her Mum has returned to the Philippines. It’s not clear why Emy didn’t return with her Mum. Perhaps her Mum thought she had enough support in Piraeus to stay whilst she returned home. She has her older sister, a neighbor that looks out for her (often condescendingly), and the support of the Filipino community at the local church.

The Filipino community is ‘othered’ in Holy Emy. All the Filipino characters are either overly devoted to Catholicism or have ancient powers which mimic Catholic Saints (hence the title). They’re also fetishized by the white characters in the movie. Teresa’s boyfriend keeps pointing out her Asian features when they’re making out, making it seem like he’s only into her because she looks exotic, whilst Mrs. Christina uses Emy, her mother, and other Filipinos for their magical abilities to heal people. There isn’t a reason why just the Filipinos have these old-world powers, which makes them appear even more exotic to the white characters. These defining characteristics fetishize the Filipinos in Holy Emy build up their ‘otherness’ vs. the white Greeks and Greek society.

Emy’s character in particular feels problematic. Her character, even more so than the rest of the Filipino community in this film, is made to seem unusual. She hardly speaks throughout the movie and is often pictured giving people creepy horror-film stares. Without a voice, she’s defined by her magical abilities: her ability to cry blood, heal, and control people through her touch and thoughts. Her silence and unusual abilities turn her into an old-world exotic fetish. Her character is just used as a tool to shock the audience and demonstrate her otherness. She, like the Filipino community in Holy Emy, are made to appear from another world – their magical powers and religious fervor don’t fit within modern Greek society. They’re fetishized for the sake of the quirkiness of this art-house body-horror.


Head to our AFI Fest 2021 Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2021.

Pornomelancholia

Pornomelancholia is a slow paced character study of a up-and-coming porn star navigating the Mexican porn industry. It has plenty of dry humor and an underlying commentary on social media culture.

The film starts with a mid-range shot of Lalo standing alone by a busy street in the city. People walk past him and cars pass behind him as we watch him peer around. It seems like he’s waiting for someone or taking a breather in a chaotic day. However, before the shot lingers further, Lalo breaks down into a soft sob as the title credits pop up: Pornomelancholia. It’s a prelude for the critique of superficial influencer-culture that Lalo uses to make his way into the porn industry.

Lalo is portrayed as a lonely man parading as a popular sex icon. His Instagram videos hide the fact that he works in a small factory with two other people that he hardly talks to. His confidence in his sexuality online contradicts his inability to come out to his family – shown in the rehearsed voice messages he can’t bring himself to send to his mother. It follows films such as Sweat in showing that the digital lives promoted by influencers don’t always reflect reality.

Despite the underlying commentary, there is dry humor in Pornomelancholia. This is probably the only film that you can watch that is built around a Zapata led Mexican revolution porn film. It also probably runs on for too much of the film, but the pornographic shots, which linger for more than expected are designed to make you awkwardly uncomfortable (like Lalo himself). The sex scenes are provocative, but not as outrightly as another Mexican festival film – Battle in Heaven.

Overall, if you’re looking for a slow-paced festival film that follows a gay man working his way into the porn industry, Pornomelancholia is worth a watch. Whilst the culture fostered by the industry and Lalo is portrayed as fake, his journey feels unique, real and believable.

The Pink Cloud

Honestly, before I saw The Pink Cloud, I thought that The Dog Who Wouldn’t be Quiet was the best film related to the pandemic that I’d seen at Sundance. But then I saw The Pink Cloud. Like Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion, it’s amazing to watch something reflect reality so well before that reality comes into place. And before you ask, this film was written in 2017, way before COVID times.

In the case of The Pink Cloud, Giovanna and Yago’s one night stand turns into a long quarantine together as an unknown pink cloud of poisonous gases shrouds the city. Anyone who steps outside for more than 10 seconds dies from the pink gases. Other people less lucky that Giovanna and Yago are stuck in supermarkets and other public buildings. It’s also not just their city in Brazil that is affected either, as like the big Hollywood disaster movies, the news shows a montage of cities around the world with the same ominous pink clouds hovering over them. Like the current pandemic, everyone is forced to adjust quickly to a new life.

After it sets up the premise, The Pink Cloud focuses on Giovanna and Yago’s relationship stuck together throughout the indefinitely long quarantine. As time progresses, the bucket lists from their single lives become a checklist of things to do in a relationship. They start doing chores, cook and eat with each other, and talk about their future together. The allure and excitement that initially drew them together fades as the permanence of their new life inside sets in. As this happens, the allure of the outside, and nature, represented in the pink cloud grows. Slow montages of the cloud frame it as pretty and tempting. Then the cloud starts to be shot with a slow zoom as if the characters are being drawn to it when they look outside. Now that they’re stuck inside, the everyday world they’d taken for granted becomes alluring. It’s a reversal of their relationship which goes from desire to boredom.

Maybe if there wasn’t a worldwide pandemic right now that mirrors The Pink Cloud’s narrative, it would resonate differently. Perhaps it would have been viewed as a warning to climate change deniers, or to those taking life for granted. In it’s current context, the quarantine comparisons are hard to avoid. It’s one of the most accurate portrayals of a relationship on lockdown.