Che Guevara or motherhood? A Syrian love story that begins in jail

A Syrian Love Story

Image by A Syrian Love Story

Director Sean McAllister says A Syrian Love Story is the most special film he’s made – which is not surprising, given that it’s filmed over many years and he becomes a part of the story of a marriage under intolerable stress.

Amer and Raghda are an unusual couple from the start: they don’t meet beside the office photocopier or at a party but in a Syrian prison, where they are incarcerated for criticising the government.

Two decades and four sons later Ragda is in jail again, McAllister meets Amer in a bar and an extraordinary documentary relationship begins, and is followed for five years.

McAllister becomes even more deeply involved when he’s detained for five days, along with footage of: Raghda, Amer and the children. The family has to flee to Lebanon and then France.

He calls in from time to time, filming and talking to the family, children as well as adults, and becomes a confidante and sounding board, chronicling the pressures of post-prison stress, of political compromises, of exile, of  the contradictions of  revolutionary zeal and the need for safety.

These factors would be enough to test any relationship. But they come on top of  the difficulties of adapting to new homes and schools and cultures, of ageing, and of shifting emotional and sexual needs.

The strains become increasingly pronounced and the lid finally blows when extra-marital sex brings jealousy and recriminations, with McAllister often asked to provide evidence and evidence for the warring parties.

It’s painful to watch, and sometimes uncomfortably intrusive – not least in the filming and questioning of the children, who can have no real conception  of the implications of personal revelations on public screens.

All the while, Syria continues to disintegrate. Truly, the political and the personal are entwined here. He wonders whether she wants to be Che Guevara or a mother.  She could well ask whether he’s dropped activism for the thrill of being sexually desired again.

It’s a fascinating, harrowing 70 minutes, with ethical questions to answer, and potentially crucial information missing: what treatment, for example, was inflicted in jail and with what effects? The twist at the end is also thought-provoking – or did you see it coming? But the film certainly puts (worried) human faces on Syrian families who are usually no more than tented survivors or lurching boatpeople.