November 10, 2023
FILM: THE WALK
DIRECTED BY: TAMARA KOTEVSKA
RATING: 3 out of 4 stars
By Dan Pal
The Walk is a curious documentary that is partially staged and mostly symbolic. It focuses on a 12-foot puppet that travels from the Syrian Border through Turkey and Europe attempting to find a more permanent home. Her name is Amal and her purpose is to remind people about the many (over 14 million) children refugees attempting to cross borders. Viewing the film requires a bit of suspension of logic as Amal is given a voice and she is, of course, operated by puppeteers. The project’s heart is in the right place if some of the details are a bit perplexing. The film was directed by Oscar-nominated director Tamara Kotevska (Honeyland) but clearly many more were involved in staging this journey and bringing it to life with some top-notch cinematography and a mournful score.
Kotevska uses a young girl who rarely speaks but serves as the voice and thoughts of Amal. She is located in a non-specified camp for refugee children, presumably on the Turkish/Syrian border. Most of the time she moves about in a forlorn manner while her voice is heard and channeled through Amal. She wonders about Europe, passports, and if she will ever see her family again. It’s a bit sad to watch but Kotevska infuses her world with other children that are similarly curious about differing religions and cultures and if they’ll ever get out of Turkey. Being children, they, like Amal, are supposed to represent hope for the future. I’m not sure how much of this truly translates on screen or through Amal but the spirit is generally there.
As a giant-sized puppet, Amal is pretty impressive. She’s operated by three individuals who take her on her journey. Two of them are also refugees, the third is curiously not given any biographical details or much screen time. We hear their voices as they philosophically question their identities and memories: Do we lose a part of our self if our homes and families are destroyed? They share fleeting memories of Syria as they pause in various not always welcoming countries. Greece, in particular, greets Amal and other refugees with complete disdain. People shout, “Shame, Shame, Shame” as they bare their Christian crosses. We learn very quickly that Arabs, and especially Muslims, are not welcomed in the country.
Other places are a bit more warm and open. Amal meets the Pope in Vatican City and is given an almost hero’s greeting in France. Still, Kotevska continually reminds us of the Islamophobia that exists in many parts of Europe. We also see refugee camps with rats scurrying about filled with people that have little hope for their futures.
There’s another curious moment near the end of the film when Amal has seemingly lost hope herself and begins to bang her head against a building and sobs. Yes, this is a partial reflection of the sorry state of affairs for many refugees but given that she is in fact a giant puppet it does feel a bit stagey and lacking in a sense of genuineness. Other moments in the film feel the same way. Of course, Kotevska’s approach of shooting Amal from a low angle gives her a very lifelike presence on screen. Sometimes we forget that she is being operated by three devoted individuals. Her physical movements and facial expressions are often quite impressive but this is a puppet after all.
Kamal does give a lot of people comfort but the reverence towards her does feel at times a bit like a false god or a blind illusion. Where are the real public heroes out there that can provide true support and comfort on a human level? What about the world leaders and public figures? How are they contributing to the refugee crisis? In the end, I suppose a puppet as a symbol of some hope is better than nothing.
The Walk is having its world premiere at DOC NYC. It is available to be virtually streamed via the festival’s website until November 26th. You can purchase tickets at https://www.docnyc.net/film/the-walk/.
FILM: THE WALK
DIRECTED BY: TAMARA KOTEVSKA
RATING: 3 out of 4 stars
By Dan Pal
The Walk is a curious documentary that is partially staged and mostly symbolic. It focuses on a 12-foot puppet that travels from the Syrian Border through Turkey and Europe attempting to find a more permanent home. Her name is Amal and her purpose is to remind people about the many (over 14 million) children refugees attempting to cross borders. Viewing the film requires a bit of suspension of logic as Amal is given a voice and she is, of course, operated by puppeteers. The project’s heart is in the right place if some of the details are a bit perplexing. The film was directed by Oscar-nominated director Tamara Kotevska (Honeyland) but clearly many more were involved in staging this journey and bringing it to life with some top-notch cinematography and a mournful score.
Kotevska uses a young girl who rarely speaks but serves as the voice and thoughts of Amal. She is located in a non-specified camp for refugee children, presumably on the Turkish/Syrian border. Most of the time she moves about in a forlorn manner while her voice is heard and channeled through Amal. She wonders about Europe, passports, and if she will ever see her family again. It’s a bit sad to watch but Kotevska infuses her world with other children that are similarly curious about differing religions and cultures and if they’ll ever get out of Turkey. Being children, they, like Amal, are supposed to represent hope for the future. I’m not sure how much of this truly translates on screen or through Amal but the spirit is generally there.
As a giant-sized puppet, Amal is pretty impressive. She’s operated by three individuals who take her on her journey. Two of them are also refugees, the third is curiously not given any biographical details or much screen time. We hear their voices as they philosophically question their identities and memories: Do we lose a part of our self if our homes and families are destroyed? They share fleeting memories of Syria as they pause in various not always welcoming countries. Greece, in particular, greets Amal and other refugees with complete disdain. People shout, “Shame, Shame, Shame” as they bare their Christian crosses. We learn very quickly that Arabs, and especially Muslims, are not welcomed in the country.
Other places are a bit more warm and open. Amal meets the Pope in Vatican City and is given an almost hero’s greeting in France. Still, Kotevska continually reminds us of the Islamophobia that exists in many parts of Europe. We also see refugee camps with rats scurrying about filled with people that have little hope for their futures.
There’s another curious moment near the end of the film when Amal has seemingly lost hope herself and begins to bang her head against a building and sobs. Yes, this is a partial reflection of the sorry state of affairs for many refugees but given that she is in fact a giant puppet it does feel a bit stagey and lacking in a sense of genuineness. Other moments in the film feel the same way. Of course, Kotevska’s approach of shooting Amal from a low angle gives her a very lifelike presence on screen. Sometimes we forget that she is being operated by three devoted individuals. Her physical movements and facial expressions are often quite impressive but this is a puppet after all.
Kamal does give a lot of people comfort but the reverence towards her does feel at times a bit like a false god or a blind illusion. Where are the real public heroes out there that can provide true support and comfort on a human level? What about the world leaders and public figures? How are they contributing to the refugee crisis? In the end, I suppose a puppet as a symbol of some hope is better than nothing.
The Walk is having its world premiere at DOC NYC. It is available to be virtually streamed via the festival’s website until November 26th. You can purchase tickets at https://www.docnyc.net/film/the-walk/.