Silvered Water, Syria Self-Portrait

A film puzzle that’s something of a paradox, “Silvered Water, Syria Self Portrait” defies categorisation and it’s certainly not for the faint of heart. An experiment, an art installation, a film essay and a testimonial all at once, it questions the very existence of cinema when the world is ravaged by so much violence, while reaffirming it with every single shot.  The first “act” reflects the powerlessness of Syrian filmmaker Ossama Mohammed, who travelled to France in 2011 to attend the Cannes festival but did not return after learning his presence in a “black list” of undesirables back home. Watching Syria crumble from afar, unable to do anything other than despairing, he collects and assembles images shot in the heat of the moment by “1001 Syrians” (as the credits put it) using cellphones and consumer cams, uploaded online in real time. “In Syria YouTubers film then die; others kill then film,” says Mohammed. “In Paris, driven by my inexhaustible love for Syria, I find that I can only film the sky and edit the footage posted by others.” A virtual encounter with a teacher trapped in Homs offers him the opportunity he needed to guide her hand, as she grips the camera, building a strange docufiction hybrid about a war far away, yet so close.