Omar movie review & film summary (2013)

Omar's main source of happiness before his imprisonment was Nadja (Leem Lubany), the younger sister of Tarek, the leader of their little street gang. Omar and Nadja meet secretly, passing notes to one another when they think no one is looking. They make tentative plans to get married, shyly looking at a one-roomed apartment together, unable to say the words "the bed can go here" without blushing. They have to keep their relationship a secret because their world is so traditional, and they are both so young. There is a fondness, affection and teasing humor in their dynamic that is heart-rending and sweet, adolescent and optimistic, and while it is obviously doomed, you don't know from where the doom will come. As Omar's situation becomes more and more dangerous, and as Omar's reputation becomes tarnished, Nadja starts to fear for her life. She wonders if it's true what is being whispered in the alleyways of her neighborhood. If Omar is collaborating with the Israelis then he is not the man she thought he was.

Love is not easy in the best of times, but in the worst of times it is flat-out dangerous. Being a warrior requires hardness and emotional armor. Omar is not hard. He is open and vulnerable, and those qualities are his very best. He is kind, funny, easygoing, and able to give himself over to love fully. It's not an overstatement to suggest that these are the qualities that make him a credit to the human race and its positive potential. Without those qualities, we are all doomed. But such openness cannot be allowed to flourish in a treacherous war-torn atmosphere where betrayal is required. Betrayal is the theme of the film. Omar is forced to betray his political convictions, in order to work with Agent Rami (their couple of scenes together are among the best in the film), and Nadja struggles with betrayal as well as her loyalties start to shift.

Hany Abu-Assad is, of course, interested in the situation of Palestine, and how the occupation impacts the lives of the people who live there. In "Omar" he rejects the macro view, and stays strictly within the micro, keeping close to his main character, observing the daily rhythms of the occupation, and the daily weirdness of living under the shadow of that huge wall. The larger concerns of a group like Hamas are nearly invisible. Early in the film, we see the three friends letting off steam together—throwing around dirty jokes, Amjad entertaining them with his hilarious Marlon Brando imitation (it is pretty funny)—and it slowly becomes impossible to imagine the friends ever finding their way back to such an innocent dynamic. That is what is lost in such a war. That is what is sacrificed. The war seeps down into the molecules, the spaces in-between language. It is in people's thoughts and dreams. When Omar and Nadja discuss escaping that world together after marriage they can barely imagine leaving their neighborhood. Those dreams hover, like a mirage. Maybe they'd like to go to Paris, but you see they can't really believe in it.

The separation wall is not just a hated structure in the Palestinian landscape. It is within the hearts and minds of the characters. And that's the tragedy.