Jamil

My first experience in the Middle East was in 2009. I was a soldier in Afghanistan. My unit undertook reconstruction projects, supported schools with school supplies, built playgrounds for kindergartens, and drilled wells. I also started filming my first documentary: "On Mission in Kabul".

One year later, I met documentary filmmaker Marcus Vetter. He invited me to take over the project management of his peace project "Cinema Jenin" in Palestine; I joined him there, after driving together with my grandmother by car to the West Bank. Our trip took us through Syria. At that time we visited the thriving metropolis of Aleppo and marveled at its impressive streets, markets, and world monuments. The pictures I see in the news now seem unreal.

The thought that only remnants of some of humanity's oldest cities are left today is almost unbearable to me. I always imagined how awful it must be when the hometown becomes a war zone, the house becomes a grave and all those familiar to us become refugees or statistics, gone if not forgotten. Most of all, I could not get over the fear of what it must be like to be buried under rubble, with little hope of being found, dead or alive.

I set out to portray this exact situation and to "bury" the viewer with the film's two main characters, Steve and Khalead, to give the viewer the claustrophobic feeling of running out of air and out of time. The only hope is an alien voice in the distance, but speaking a different language, belonging to a different culture and maybe even to a political "adversary".

The film reduces the story-telling elements to the minimum: no light, no sound, no movement, the viewer sits with the character's fears about missing relatives, about not being able to escape, about not knowing what is to come. And yet there is a connection and something hopeful that conveys the power to stay alive. In such a situation, everything else takes a back seat and finally, humanity arises.

In 2014, I followed the work of the war photographer Anja Niedringhaus. Her pictures and her passion for her job have been with me for many years. She made the world a witness to the indescribable, paying the ultimate price, murdered while on assignment in Afghanistan.

Anja Niedringhaus's story and her motivation inspired me to write the parallel story of Anja and Leo in Jamil. Although this script does not represent Anja Niedringhaus's personal story, I wanted to embody her courage and determination in the character of Anja.

For me, Anja's husband Leo was especially important. He is older than Anja, a down to earth music teacher. On the surface, his respect for and understanding of her work is easy and assured. But his struggle to let her go is evident between the lines, and in the troubled way he goes through his daily rituals, which are about to be disrupted forever.

When I flew to Afghanistan for my mission in 2009, I did not know what to expect, but it was even worse for my parents and family. I felt my fate was in my hands, at least to some degree. For them, however, I was gone and everything was uncertain. I wanted to mirror their concern and anxiety through the figure of Leo.

Two extreme situations, two storylines that eventually come together. My intention is that Jamil captivate the viewers, bury them in the dark, scare them and at the same time raise the questions: What would they do in this situation? Do they appreciate the every-day and self-evident circumstances in life? Do they live consciously and use their precious time for the really important things?

The filmmaker's challenge was to tell this story authentically and in complete darkness. Filming a story largely in the dark is a kind of experiment, how will the transitions of the two stories be shaped? The sound design was likewise a serious challenge, to capture the sense of claustrophobia in the dark movie theater?

I sincerely hope that this story captivates you just as much as it has me.

Thank you for your attention!