If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
…
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale
⎯ Refaat Alareer (https://ifimustdie.net)
There is nothing pretentious about The Key (2023), everything felt literal, raw and straightforward in the hands of the Palestinian diaspora Rakan Mayasi. Adapted from the short story of the same title by Palestinian novelist and poet Anwar Hamed, The Key depicts a thrilling and simple tale of an Israeli family who each night, are haunted by the sounds of someone trying to break into their (obviously, occupation) house. We never got to see who wanted to get in. We never even got to hear their voices. Only the sounds of constant door-shaking, every night.
There is nothing pretentious about everything about The Key. As keys are a symbol of the Palestinian resistance robbed out of their homes since 1948, it, too, straightforwardly serves as the main feature of the tale, put up blatantly as the title. Nothing metaphorical, nothing remains symbolic. Keys are literally the material condition at stake of Palestinian existence and resistance. Getting in to their own house after years of occupation and genocide is quite literally what they are fighting for. And their houses are occupied by Israeli families, whose footage of running for life with their luggage to claim Palestinian houses we can see circling on the internet. It is as simple as that. And in its simplicity, The Key serves us what Palestinian existence is about—without even showing a single Palestinian character on screen.
When your house is claimed by your oppressors, and your entire land is occupied by the entire colonial force-backed population, is there even a space for you anymore? The reality is that there is not a single inch of land left for Palestinians to exist in their own birth soil. There is no space for them in their own homes, which are occupied by foreign families. So, quite literally in The Key, we cannot see a single Palestinian because there is no room for them in their own house. They are driven out, and fighting to get back home. As the Palestinians in The Key remain voiceless, in the vast ocean of live-streamed genocide, can we even hear their screams anymore? While the occupation keeps expanding and the genocide keeps going, each time Palestinians bleed their throats and bodies, it remains unheard⎯by the colonial forces. The colonial forces take up their space and silence them as they lay dying⎯literally.
And yet they keep trying. They keep fighting. As the invisible Palestinian protagonist in The Key keeps trying to get in each night, Palestinians continue to resist in real life. They hold their feet on the ground in the face of IOF bombings and the bulldozer of their own homes. Even as they flee, they continue to fight for their lives in the world that demands their existence to cease.
There is nothing pretentious about everything about The Key. Everything is literal. Everything is just as what it is, on-screen and in real life. Pretension is something an oppressed people cannot afford⎯not when your entire life and your entire people are at stake.
There is nothing pretentious to aim for in this short review, too. Nothing much to say in solidarity, a longer piece would’ve taken too much space that is deserved for Palestinian existence. This is an encouragement to also read Rakan Mayasi’s statement at Hollywood Reporter, to read Palestinian writings and amplify Palestinian voices everywhere (my favorite places to start are Palestine Studies and The Baffler, and to follow the Boycott, Divest, and Sanction (BDS) guide).
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