The Human Cost of Concrete: Why 'Concrete Land' is More Than Just a Film
There’s something profoundly unsettling about the phrase ‘Concrete Land’. It’s not just a title; it’s a metaphor for the relentless march of urbanization and the human stories it leaves in its wake. Personally, I think this documentary, directed by Palestinian-Jordanian filmmaker Asmahan Bkerat, is a wake-up call disguised as a film. It’s not just about a family losing their land; it’s about the erasure of identity, culture, and history—all in the name of progress.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Bkerat frames the story. She doesn’t just document the Najar family’s struggle; she embeds herself in it. Her words, ‘Their erasure is my erasure’, are more than a statement—they’re a declaration of solidarity. This isn’t a detached observer’s account; it’s a deeply personal act of preservation. What many people don’t realize is that films like these are often born out of necessity, not just artistic ambition. Bkerat wasn’t a filmmaker until she felt compelled to capture the Najars’ story, and that urgency is palpable in every frame.
The Najars: A Microcosm of a Global Crisis
The Najar family’s plight is heartbreakingly universal. They’re one of the last Afro-Palestinian Bedouin families on the outskirts of Amman, Jordan, clinging to a way of life that’s under siege. Luxury villas are encroaching on their agricultural land, and they’re being forced to abandon their animals and traditions. But what’s truly striking is how their 10-year-old daughter, Eman, becomes the film’s emotional anchor. She’s caught between discrimination at school and her dreams of a future that honors her heritage.
From my perspective, Eman’s story is the most poignant part of the film. She represents the next generation, torn between assimilation and resistance. It raises a deeper question: Can we preserve our roots in a world that constantly demands we leave them behind? I think this is where Concrete Land transcends its local context and becomes a global conversation. It’s not just about Jordan or the Bedouin community; it’s about every culture facing the bulldozer of modernity.
Urbanization vs. Humanity: A False Dichotomy?
One thing that immediately stands out is how the film challenges our understanding of urban development. Martina Droandi, founder of Odd Slice Films, nails it when she says, ‘Urban development is never simply about buildings, it is about the people whose histories risk being erased.’ This is something I’ve often thought about but rarely seen articulated so clearly. We celebrate skyscrapers and infrastructure as symbols of progress, but at what cost?
If you take a step back and think about it, the Najars’ story is a microcosm of a global trend. From indigenous communities in the Amazon to rural villages in China, traditional ways of life are being sacrificed on the altar of economic growth. What this really suggests is that our definition of progress is flawed. It’s not just about building more; it’s about preserving what already exists.
The Power of Storytelling as Resistance
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Bkerat’s film became a form of resistance. She didn’t set out to make a documentary; she set out to save a story. This reminds me of the power of art to challenge systemic forces. In a world where corporations and governments often dictate narratives, storytelling becomes an act of defiance.
What’s also worth noting is the international support the film received, from the IDFA Bertha Fund to the Sundance Documentary Fund. This isn’t just a local story; it’s a global one. And yet, despite the backing, the film retains its authenticity. Bkerat’s voice remains unfiltered, raw, and unapologetic.
Looking Ahead: What ‘Concrete Land’ Leaves Us With
As I reflect on Concrete Land, I’m struck by its duality. On one hand, it’s a deeply personal story about one family’s struggle. On the other, it’s a universal critique of how we prioritize concrete over culture. Personally, I think this film will resonate far beyond its Locarno premiere. It’s not just a documentary; it’s a call to action.
What this really suggests is that we need to rethink our relationship with progress. Can we build without destroying? Can we modernize without erasing? These are questions Concrete Land doesn’t answer—but it forces us to ask them. And in my opinion, that’s the mark of a truly impactful film.
So, as we watch the Najars fight to preserve their way of life, let’s also ask ourselves: What are we willing to sacrifice in the name of progress? And more importantly, what are we willing to save?
