The Presence of an Absence:

the Aesthetics of In/Visibility in the Science Fiction

Short Films of Larissa Sansour

Fleur van Suijdam

Master Thesis

MA Contemporary Art History, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam

Supervisor: dr. Carine Zaayman

2nd reader: dr. Katja Kwastek

Date: 1 October 2022

Table of Content

Introduction 6

Chapter 1: The Aesthetics of In/visibility 10

1.1 In/visibility throughout the History of Palestinian Cinema 13

1.2 The Work of Larissa Sansour 21

Chapter 2: Imagining Palestine 25

2.1 Science Fiction and (Post-)colonialism 28

2.2 Futurisms 31

Chapter 3: The Myth of Palestine 37

3.1 A Space Exodus (2009) 39

3.2 Nation Estate (2012) 42

3.3 In the Future They Ate From the Finest Porcelain (2016) 44

3.4 In Vitro (2019) 50

Conclusion 55

Bibliography 55
 Introduction
Palestine, the rst nation to set foot on the moon. Palestine, the nation housed in a luxurious
skyscraper, looking over the skyline of Jerusalem. Palestine, the nation that gained sovereignty
through archival traces of porcelain from which the ancient Palestinian civilisation used to eat.
And Palestine, the nation that survived a long list of catastrophes, among which an all-erasing
ood of oil. These statements seem irrational, considering the current state of Palestine as an
unrecognised nation, and its occupation by the Zionist state of Israel. More than irrational, these
statements are untrue; they are myths; they are imaginations of a di erent narrative in the
Palestinian story than the current one. Palestine has been under colonial occupation since al-
Nakba (the catastrophe), which refers to the creation of the Israeli state in 1948. Since then,
Palestinians have been occupied, dispossessed, and exiled. Palestine is a real-life dystopia, in
which imagining a di erent world can seem like an escape. The aforementioned imagined pasts,
presents, and futures of occupied Palestine are central in the following Science Fiction short lms
of Palestinian visual artist Larissa Sansour: A Space Exodus (2009), Nation Estate (2012), In the
Future They Ate from the Finest Porcelain (2016), and In Vitro (2019).

Sansour was born in Jerusalem, Palestine in 1973 and grew up in Bethlehem, West Bank
under Israeli military occupation.1 In 1988 during the rst Intifada,2 she left Palestine to continue
her education elsewhere and eventually studied Fine Art in Copenhagen, London, and New York.3
Her artistic practice is interdisciplinary and includes lm, photography, sculptures, and
installations. In recent years, Sansour’s work gained more recognition, as she exhibited at the
Danish Pavillon of the Venice Biennale in 2019.4 There, she displayed her most recent Science
Fiction production, named In Vitro in the installation ‘Heirloom’. In Vitro is the fourth Sci-Fi short
lm that Sansour has produced over the span of ten years. In her early work starting from 2003,
she focused more on producing short documentary lms, also attending to the Palestinian
political situation. The turn towards Science Fiction in her oeuvre is considerably fascinating as it
represents how Sansour draws on and responds to legacies from Palestinian cinema but
simultaneously represents a shift towards the ctionalised and imagined spaces. Concerning the
Sci-Fi genre, she notes that “Funnily enough I was never really interested in sci- , but I guess I
always found a refuge in ction from the daily reality of occupation.”5 But more than just an
escape, Sansour’s work can be seen as a commentary on the contemporary political situation in
Palestine. Her work functions as a tool that creates awareness for the Palestinian question and
visibility for the Palestinian people.

1 Palestine Square 2015.

2The Intifada is the term used to refer to the civil uprising in Palestine in 1987 (First Intifada) and 2000 (Second Intifada), in : Gertz &
Khlei 2008, p. 30.

3 Palestine Square 2015.

4 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘In Vitro’.

5 Palestine Square 2015.

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 Throughout her most recent lm productions, she draws from strategies from the genre of
Science Fiction to address political realities in Palestine. By employing an imaginative,
ctionalised, and futurist space, she creates a context of the Palestinian political situation that is
never seen before.6 Sansour states that employing ction and imaginative futures enables a
distance and liberating perspective between her commentary as an artist, and the actual present-
day context and political jargon.7 These ctionalised spaces are based on the dichotomy between
visibility and invisibility of the Palestinian question and people. Sansour expresses this paradox in
a futurist sense by exploring other contrasts, such as displacement and captivity in Nation Estate,
and existence and nonexistence in In the Future They Ate from the Finest Porcelain.
Cultural critic and scholar Hamid Dabashi established a framework for Palestinian cinema
on a paradox as well: the presence of an absence.8 This paradox refers to the historical presence
of the Palestinians against their geographical absence.9 Dabashi presents this framework in the
publication ‘Dreams of a Nation’ which was published on the occasion of the eponymous lm
festival that was held in 2003 at the Columbia University in New York.10 The lm festival aimed to
de ne Palestinian cinema as a national cinema by showing a wide range of Palestinian lms
produced between 1980 and 2003.11 The publication ‘Dreams of a Nation’ sought to do the same
and to make a case for Palestinian cinema as “one of the most promising national cinemas.”12
The publication aims to analyse national Palestinian cinema through the paradox of claiming a
national cinema for a stateless nation.13 Due to the political nature of Palestinian cinema, Dabashi
argues that it represents the Palestinian battle for recognition as a nation. The core of Palestinian
cinema is based on these paradoxes: nation versus stateless, absence versus presence, and
visibility versus invisibility.

Following these paradoxes, ‘Dreams of a Nation‘ provides a theoretical framework for

Palestinian cinema in which Dabashi along with literary and cultural critic Edward Said propose an
“Aesthetics of the Invisible.”14 According to Dabashi, the aesthetics of the invisible can be seen as
the expression of the struggle with visibility in Palestinian cinema.15 In other words, the invisibility
of the nation and the Palestinian struggle against their absence is the core of the aesthetics of the
invisible. The presence of Palestine in the art and cinema of Palestinian makers is part of an
existing tradition that started even before al-Nakba. Since the rst traces of Palestinian cinema in

6 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 111.

7 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 61

8 The title of the thesis is based on Dabashi’s theoretical framework for Palestinian cinema.

9 Dabashi 2006, p. 10.

10 Na cy 2006, p. 18.

11 Rastegar 2003, p. 273.

12 Dabashi 2006, p. 7.

13 Ibidem.

14 Ibid., p. 18.

15 Ibidem.
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 the 1930s, the visibility of Palestine has been an important topic for Palestinian lmmakers.16 This
needs to be understood in the colonial context of that time. The state of Israel was not created
overnight; it was the result of decades of preparation. In the period before al-Nakba, the land of
Palestine was advertised as an empty land, “a land without a people, for a people without a
land”.17 As a result, in the 1930s lmmakers were urged to present a non-colonial narrative of their
homeland. This tradition in Palestinian cinema of creating visibility continued and increased under
the Israeli occupation. As has been observed by Said: “Palestine yes, Palestinians no.”18 Said
asserted that the Palestinian struggle has to do with the desire to be visible as a counteraction to
the zionist campaigns that promoted the non-existence of Palestinians. That is why Said too
argued that Palestinian cinema should be understood in the context of the invisible.19

Dabashi states that Palestinian lmmakers use cinema as “visual evidence of Palestinians
being in the world.”20 He continues by referring to the aesthetics of the invisible as the “aesthetic
presence” in Palestinian cinema of the “political absence” of Palestinians in their nation.21 By
referring to the “aesthetic presence of political absence” Dabashi shows the dichotomy between
the visibility and invisibility, and the presence and absence of the Palestinian people. The
aesthetic presence that is provided by Palestinian lmmakers shows the value that artistic
practices can ful l in these speci c issues of invisibility/absence. Sansour contributes to the
aesthetic absence by invoking the Palestinian political reality, which is thus one of absence.

Postcolonial scholar Bashir Abu-Menneh too refers to this paradoxical identity of

Palestinians as “present absentees.”22 However, with this term, he not only refers to the visual
presence of Palestinians in global media but also to their unacknowledged presence in their own
country. Therefore, it can be said that the aesthetics of the invisible is derived from the literal
dispossession within Palestine. Furthermore, it can be seen as a paradox between on the one
hand the presence of the stateless nation, and on the other hand its absence due to the attempts
of erasure by the settler colonialists.

Within Dabashi’s proposal towards an aesthetic of the invisible, he mostly includes

documentary lms, unlike the lms described at the beginning of this introduction, which is
almost ironic considering he named the publication ‘Dreams of a Nation’ and dreams can be seen
as a reference to a subconscious and imaginative space. Literary critic Kamran Rastegar also
criticises this focus on documentaries and considers the aesthetics of the invisible as much as a
burden as a blessing for Palestinian lmmakers.23 According to Rastegar, the lmmakers are
preoccupied with the documentary form in order to provide evidence of their situation and create

16 Gertz & Khlei p. 13.

17 Buali 2014.

18 Said 1984, p. 33.

19 Said 2006, p. 3.

20 Dabashi 2006, pp. 8-9.

21 Ibid., p. 11.

22 Abu-Menneh 2006, p. 60.

23 Rastegar 2015, p. 94.

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 documentation to archive.24 Fiction has been explored, but mostly in a semidocumentary way,
and therefore, can be said to be underrepresented in Palestinian cinema. In this way, Rastegar
states that in order to be successful as a national cinema, the aesthetics of the invisible should be
explored in feature lms as well. However, when Rastegar wrote this in 2015, ctive works had
already been increased in Palestinian cinema, including the work of Sansour. It can thus be stated
that there is a gap in the literary discourse on Palestinian cinema, namely one that focuses on
works of ction.

Filmmaker Annemarie Jacir approaches the aesthetics of the invisible from inaccurate
representation from a colonial perspective.25 From this perspective, the Palestinians have been
subject to the colonisers' gaze and have been portrayed as the exotic orient, as victims, or as
terrorists.26 With this, Jacir states that the wrongful representation was caused by the colonisers.
She considers the invisibility of Palestinians concerning the absence of their voice, and, therefore,
the Palestinian cinema as an aesthetics of visibility. Then who proposes a di erent representation
of the past, present, and most importantly a di erent future? And more importantly, how are these
di erent representations of the past and future proposed if not without imagination?

This discourse exposes the dynamic as well as complicated dichotomy between visibility
and invisibility. Drawing on Jacir’s emphasis on visibility, and Dabashi’s and Said’s emphasis on
invisibility, I want to research the work of Sansour in a framework that addresses both these
concepts, considering this dichotomy is noticeably present in Sansour’s work as well. In his
article, Dabashi includes certain word plays— im/possible or in/coherent— to simultaneously refer
to possible as well as impossible, coherent as well as incoherent. Along the same line, I want to
propose an aesthetics of in/visibility with regard to the work of Sansour, considering her work
draws from the same paradox of visibility and invisibility.

Since 2009, Sansour has explored the genre of Science Fiction in her work to address the
same paradox of in/visibility as her predecessor documentary lmmakers. Science ction
liberates artists and lmmakers from common political debates on sovereignty and allows to
imagine and reimagine.27 Literary scholar Gil Hochberg furthermore argues that there is a gap in
representation of non-Western Science Fiction writers, artists, and lmmakers in the discourse of
Science Fiction, and speci cally in the genre of dystopia.28 Literary scholars such as Hochberg
and Sophia Azeb remind us that imagination is an important aspect in the Palestinian cause.29
Azeb notes that “If there is anything unusual about Palestine or the Palestinian case, it is the fact
that Palestine presents a potential to introduce new ideas about sovereignty and liberation into
practice. This is why imagination is so important here.”30 Moreover, Dabashi stated that “History

24 Rastegar 2015, p. 94.

25 Jacir 2006, p. 29.

26 Ibidem.

27 Hochberg 2021, p. 86.

28 Hochberg 2018, p. 35.

29 Hochberg 2021, p. 27.

30 Azeb 2014.
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 cannot be reversed, but it can be re-imagined.”31 Then how do imaginative Science Fiction works
t into the framework of the aesthetics of in/visibility? This thesis thus seeks to cover on the one
hand a gap in the representation of (science) ction in the overview of Palestinian cinema, and on
the other hand a gap in the representation of non-Western Science Fiction makers.

Based on/In light of these considerations, the main research question of this thesis is the
following: How do Larissa Sansour’s Science Fiction short lms invoke the political and material
reality of Palestine? As previously mentioned, the political reality refers to what Dabashi has
named the political absence of a Palestinian state. The material reality, in this sense, refers to the
aesthetic presence of Palestine in other expressions, such as culture and more speci cally the
artistic work of Sansour. The material and the political reality of Palestine are equivalent to what I
have described as the aesthetics of in/visibility. The aesthetics of in/visibility will be analysed
through the futurist and imaginative strategies that are enabled in the genre of Science Fiction.
The thesis is supported by the following subquestions: How is the aesthetics of in/visibility
expressed in Palestinian cinema, and how do post-colonial and futurist strategies within the genre
of Science Fiction enable Sansour to address the dichotomy between visibility and invisibility?
The ndings of these questions will provide a theoretical framework through which Sansour’s
Science Fiction short lms will be analysed by means of a close reading of: A Space Exodus
(2009), Nation Estate (2012), In the Future They Ate From the Finest Porcelain (2016), and In Vitro
(2019).
As Sansour’s interdisciplinary oeuvre moves between both the cinematic and the artistic
eld, the theoretical framework draws from both elds. The rst chapter focuses on the history
and legacies of Palestinian cinema in which the aesthetics of in/visibility are highlighted. This
chapter relies heavily on the historical overview of Palestinian national cinema by Israeli scholar
Nurith Gertz and Palestinian lmmaker George Khlei .32 Gertz and Khlei explore the re ection of
Palestinian cinema on the Palestinian-Israeli con ict from both perspectives. This publication is
one of the view sources that thoroughly discusses the history of Palestinian cinematography and
the authors have divided the chronicle of Palestinian cinema into four periods, each with its own
characteristics. Furthermore, the book focuses on the, at the time of its publication in 2008,
contemporary Palestinian cinema (1990-2008). As a result, this source o ers an overview of the
existing tradition in Palestinian cinema, on which Sansour’s practice draws and responds to, and
an overview of Sansour’s early cinematic work. Chapter 1 attempts to discover the aesthetics of
in/visibility in the di erent periods that are proposed by Gertz and Khlei , in order to understand
the roots of Sansour’s short lms.

The second chapter elaborates on the conceptual and imaginary shift in Sansour’s oeuvre
and indicates how post-colonial and futurist strategies within the genre of Science Fiction enable
her to address the dichotomy of presence and absence in her work. In order to grasp the allure of
Science Fiction in the context of Palestine, the chapter discusses the interfaces between Science
Fiction and post-colonialism. In this analysis, the thesis will borrow concepts and de nitions from

31 Dabashi 2006, p. 18.

32 Gertz & Khlei 2008.

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 the literary eld in which Science Fiction is mainly studied. Then, the thesis will elaborate more
thoroughly on the concept of Futurism, which will provide a background in the artistic strategies
of Sansour’s work. The futurist strategies will be discussed in the context of Kodwo Eshun’s
Afrofuturism being the rst kind of Futurism in the academic discourse but also in the context of
more recent publications, focussing on (counter)futurisms that are geographically closer to
Palestine, such as Arab Futurism and Gulf Futurism.33

The third chapter includes an extensive analysis of the Science Fiction short lms of
Sansour. A Space Exodus, Nation Estate, and In the Future They Ate from the Finest Porcelain will
be analysed more brie y in the framework of the aesthetics of in/visibility in order to demonstrate
certain concepts and techniques that led into Sansour’s most recent cinematic production In
Vitro. The more elaborate analysis of In Vitro will illustrate continuations as well as di erent
approaches in Sansour’s most recent work. The analysis is based on a close reading for text
evidence in the selected lms. The analysis thus focuses on nding evidence that supports the
thesis statement of this research by looking into the meaning of certain images and recurring
symbols and the meaning of the dialogue, titles and credits. In terms of accessibility and visibility,
most of Sansour’s work are available on Vimeo, with or without permission granted by the artist.

This thesis aims to ll a gap in the representation of Palestinian art and cinema in the Western
European academic eld. Considering an important aspect of this representation is claiming a
Palestinian narrative, the thesis relies mostly on Middle Eastern, and other non-Western scholars
in order to respect and elaborate on these perspectives. This simultaneously touches upon to the
limitations of this thesis, considering sources in Arabic, the native language of Palestine, have
been excluded due to insu cient understanding of the language. However in seeking to represent
a non-Eurocentric perspective, sources from Middle Eastern and other non-Western scholars
have been prioritised. The underrepresentation of Palestine in the Western discourse is important
to address, considering it was not that long ago that someone close to me opened my eyes
towards the Palestinian cause. Being born in the Netherlands, a nation-state which has not
recognised Palestine as an o cial nation, whilst it has recognised Israel as such, the Palestinian
cause is not top mind; almost as if it is invisible. My encounter with the work of Sansour increased
this urge for understanding, especially considering the paradox of visibility and invisibility is so
apparent in her work.

Moreover, recent events at documenta fteen with regard to accusations of anti-Semitism

have exposed the complex relation between Western (European) institutions and Palestine and
the relevance of supporting Palestinian artists. Curated by artist collective ruangrupa, documenta
fteen included several artists (collectives) who re ect on past and present colonial struggles. The
lumbung community (curatorial collective ruangrupa and invited/participating artists of
documenta) were accused of anti-Semitism based on one selected artworks and the presence of
(pro-)Palestinian artists in the exhibition. The German, but rather Western European, culture that
equates anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism, causes a hostile environment for Palestinian and pro-

33 Eshun 2003; Parikka 2018; Samali 2015.

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 Palestinian artists. In light of the Jewish genocide in World War II, this equation raises a sense of
fear and complicates support for the Palestinian cause. Furthermore rejecting anti- or non-
Zionism in a sense justi es Israel’s colonisation of Palestine.

In a statement, ruangrupa addressed how the rejection, or rather demonisation, of anti-

Zionism seeks to silence Palestinian artists, making them once again invisible.34 Not only did the
Supervisory board of documenta reject the notions of anti-Zionism and anti-Israel, they moreover
ignored the multiple events of discrimination and racism against the lumbung community, which
increased after the accusations of anti-Semitism.35 To illustrate, the venue where Palestinian
collective Question for Funding exhibited had been vandalised with anti-Palestinian slurs, which is
only one of many examples. Moreover, the organisation of documenta tried to censor
(pro-)Palestinian artists by closing venues or removing pro-Palestinian traces in artworks.36

These attempts of censorship are not excluded to the practice of Sansour. In 2011 she
was asked by Lacoste to withdraw her nomination for the Lacoste Elysée Prize because her work
was “too pro-Palestinian”.37 They furthermore asked her to support the withdrawal with a
statement saying that she was focusing on other priorities. Sansour rejected and exposed these
instructions, which caused disapproval of the actions of Lacoste and the cancellation of the prize
in general.38 Musee d’Elysée, as the other initiator of the prize, rejected Lacoste’s actions as well
and o ered Sansour a solo-exhibition in their museum.

The rejection of censorship by Musee d’Elysée and the most recent statement of
documenta’s nding committee who acknowledges and rejects the treatment of the lumbung
community by the boards of documenta, expose a recurring debate with opposing actors on the
representation of Palestinian artists in Western institutes. Considering these events represent a
tendency of how the Palestinian cause is treated in Western Europe, supporting a Palestinian
artistic practice in a Western European university, is not self-evident and even contentious. This
contemporary debate shows that the Palestinian case for visibility is of great relevance up to the
present day. This thesis elaborates on this debate by aiming to support Palestinian lm and art
practices and their narrative, and create more recognition and awareness for the Palestinian
cause.

34 ruangrupa 2022.

35 lumbung community 2022.

36 Ibidem.

37 Muller 2012.

38 Ibidem.
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 Chapter 1: The Aesthetics of In/visibility

In order to grasp the aesthetics of in/visibility in Palestinian cinema, it is important to understand

the development in the national cinema, that is closely linked to political events in history. For that
reason, this chapter will present an overview of Palestinian cinema. The history of Palestinian
cinema is based on scholar Nurith Gertz’ and lmmaker George Khlei ’s chronicle of Palestinian
cinema.39 They have suggested succeeding periods that categorise the development in the
cinema. This chapter will demonstrate how the concept of in/visibility was manifested during each
period. The historical overview will provide a framework to understand the roots and development
in the oeuvre of Sansour. In the nal section of the chapter, Sansour’s work will be discussed in
the context of in/visibility and how her oeuvre developed from documentary towards ction.

1.1 In/visibility throughout the History of Palestinian Cinema

First period: period that was made invisible (1935-1948)

The rst period of Palestinian cinema is roughly estimated to have occurred between 1935 and
1948.40 Before this period, Palestine had been a subject in early cinematic lms from a Western
and Orientalist perspective.41 The rst o cial lm was created by autodidact lmmakers Ibrahim
Hassan Sirhan and Jamal al-Asphar, who are considered to be the founders of Palestinian
cinema.42 They documented the visit of king Saud of Saudi Arabia to Palestine. It was a twenty-
minute silent documentary that during its screening was accompanied by a soundtrack
composed and played by Sirhan.43 In 1945, production studio ‘Studio Palestine’ was founded,
which usually increases lm production in a region due to the access to funding.44 With regard to
invisibility, the rst period of Palestinian cinema is pre-Nakba, meaning that the produced cinema
in these decades was not as actively concerned with the struggle against erasure by the Zionist
state as in later periods. However, lmmakers were concerned with providing a Palestinian
narrative portraying the Palestinian region in international cinema, instead of Palestine being
viewed through a Western or Zionist gaze that contributed to the idea of an uncivilised and empty
land.45 Moreover, lmmaker Muhammad Saleh did work on a lm addressing the Zionist

39 Gertz & Khlei 2008.

40 Ibid., p. 12.

41 Alawadhi 2013, p. 18.

42 Ibid., p. 19.

43 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 13.

44 Ibidem.

45 Alawadhi 2013, p. 19.

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 campaign against Palestine during the late 1940’s, but this lm remained un nished due to the
outbreak of al-Nakba in 1948.46

Gertz & Khlei state that there is only little remaining Palestinian cinematic material of the
rst period due to several reasons. First, they argue that cinema was not a popular medium
among Palestinian creatives, due to its expensive technology and the fact that the medium did
not correspond with the rural and religious lifestyle of the majority of the people in Palestine.47
Second, in 1935 under the British Mandate a new law was passed that prevented and censored
Palestinian resistance lmmaking.48 This censorship increased until the culmination of the 1948
al-Nakba. Thirdly, the rst period of Palestinian cinema is characterised as a period of loss. Most
lm material was lost in the destruction of the Palestinian Film Archive in Beirut in 1982, that
marked the transition of the third into the fourth period of cinema.49 At the time, this period was
not marked by the aesthetics of invisibility, but it has been made invisible in retrospect. The work
of Sirhan and al-Asphar was only rediscovered in the late 1970’s in a newspaper article by Iraqi
lm director Kassam Hawal.50 What furthermore distinguished this phase from the following
periods is the way lmmakers did not only produce documentary lm, but feature-length lms as
well.51

Second period: the era of trauma (1948-1967)

The second era of Palestinian cinema occurred between al-Nakba (the catastrophe) and the
Naksa (setback or defeat), two major traumatic events in not only the history of Palestine, but of
the entire Arab world. al-Nakba refers to the declaration of the Zionist state of Israel in 1948. This
meant the erasure of Palestine in terms of a social and political, and thus a sovereign entity.52
Palestine became invisible as a nation. Even before 1948, to an increasing extent Jewish refugees
settled in Palestine, as a result of Zionist promotion of the return to the Holy land.53 This reached a
climax in 1948 with the arrival of exceeding numbers of Jewish settlers, which resulted in the
dispossession of approximately 700.000 Palestinian inhabitants into refugee camps or forced
migration.54 Palestinians who resisted were erased by the Israeli army through ethnic cleansing.55
The Zionist government furthermore implemented legislations to prevent the return of the exiled

46 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 14.

47 Ibid., p. 18.

48 Ibidem.

49 Alawadhi 2013, p. 21.

50 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 13.

51 Alawadhi 2013, p. 19.

52 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 19.

53 Buali 2014.

54 Alawadhi 2013, p. 19.

55 Qumsiyeh 2015, p. 98.

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 Palestinians to Palestine.56 al-Nakba evoke a series of military con icts between Israel and the
Arab world, including Palestine, that took place between 1948 and 1967.57 The war ended in
defeat for the Arab forces, causing Israel to further occupy Palestinian regions, such as the Gaza
Strip, Sinai, West Bank, East Jerusalem, and Golan Heights.58 The day of defeat is
commemorated as the day of Naksa.

This phase can be seen as an intermediate period that is characterised by the absence of
Palestinian lmmaking and therefore referred to as the “epoch of silence.”59 Gertz and Khlei
assert that the trauma of al-Nakba overshadowed anything in the life of Palestinian citizens,
including the production of cinema or any other kind of documentation.60 The second period was
one of oral history and traditions, rather than tangible materials.61 Moreover, trauma was not the
only factor that complicated lm production during this era. According to Gertz and Khlei ,
cinematic production had stagnated due to its reliance on infrastructure, technology, and nancial
resources which were all complicated by the occupation by the Zionist state.62 Nevertheless, they
assert that some Palestinian lmmakers were involved in foreign productions, but there are no
clear indications to validate this conjecture.63

The aftermath of al-Nakba is a major event in Palestinian history and a signi cant motive in
the aesthetics of in/visibility. After al-Nakba, Palestine became invisible through the recognition of
the Israeli state, Palestinians became invisible through exile, migration, and ethnic cleansing, and
there was no sign of cinematic productions during this period. It can thus be said that the second
era of cinema exposes the political grounds of the issues with visibility that is dealt with in
Palestinian cinema in the following periods. Another notable remark is the fact that al-Nakba
remains invisible as a subject in later Palestinian lm productions.64

Third period: exilic cinema of the Palestinian revolution (1967-1982)

Despite the traumatic e ects of Naksa-day, it also emerged an increased sense of resistance
among the Palestinians and national Palestinian organisations were founded in the third period of
Palestinian cinema. The cinema produced in this period is therefore either referred to as the
‘Cinema of the Palestinian Revolution’ or the ‘Cinema of the Palestinian Organisations.’65 As a
result of the Naksa, the nationalist institutions settled in neighbouring countries, such as Lebanon

56 Qumsiyeh 2015, p. 98..

57 Alawadhi 2013, p. 19.

58 Ibidem.

59 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 19.

60 Ibidem.

61 Alawadhi 2013, p. 19.

62 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 19.

63 Ibid., p. 20.

64 Massad 2006, p. 43.

65 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 12.

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 and Jordan. Their production of cinema is therefore characterised by its production in exile.66
Even if lms were produced in Palestine, due to lack of technology, the post-production often
took place in the diaspora.67 The lms produced in this period were concerned with documenting
the Palestinian cause. This evolved from documentation by means of photography into
documentation through the moving image.68 The purpose of these documentary lms was to
create visibility and awareness for the situation in Palestine and the Palestinian diaspora. The rst
created within the ‘Cinema of Resistance’ was a production by Mustafa Abu-Ali, Hani Jahariya,
and Salah Abu Hannoud named Say No the Peaceful Solution (1968), that covered the Palestinian
resistance against the peace negotiations between Israel and the Arab forces.69 This era of
cinema is characterised by the documentation of signi cant political events in the Palestinian
cause.

The cinema of resistance and revolution can be seen as part of a larger international
movement of countries ghting a similar battle and addressing these issues in lm. In 1969,
Argentinian lmmakers Fernando Solanas and Octavio Getino wrote a theoretical proposal for a
new perspective on the instrumentalisation of cinema that could not be categorised as Hollywood
cinema, rst cinema, or European auteur, second cinema.70 They introduced the concept of Third
cinema as a category for politically engaged cinema in non-liberated countries.71 They state that
third cinema is “the cinema that recognises in that struggle the most gigantic cultural, scienti c,
and artistic manifestation of our time, the great possibility of constructing a liberated personality
with each people as the starting point—in a word, the decolonisation of culture.”72 Within the anti-
imperialist framework, Palestinian lm from the third period can be seen as Third cinema, but
Palestine became a subject of revolutionary cinema as well.73 Even though, this could increase
the worldwide visibility of the Palestinian cause, according to Gertz & Khlei , the nationalist
organisations clung to the agency of claiming their own narrative.74 The attitude of the nationalist
institutions eventually led to little to none representation of Palestine in the Western world and
cinema.

Most of the cinematic productions were assigned by nationalist Palestinian organisations,

such as Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) that was founded in 1964, and Democratic Front
for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP) which was founded in 1968.75 After Naksa, they began to

66 Alawadhi 2013, p. 20.

67 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 21.

68 Ibidem.

69 Ibidem.

70 Getino 2021, p. 89.

71 Ibidem.

72 Solanas & Getino 1969, p. 233.

73 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 22.

74 Ibid., p. 24.

75 Ibid., p. 22
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 use cinema as a political expression and created production departments within their institutions.
As a result, the cinema produced in this period is marked by the nationalist organisations, their
priorities and available budgets, rather than the ideas and skills of lmmakers themselves. The
Palestinian organisations namely still had little access to funding and technology.76 This resulted
in low-budget productions that focused on documentation rather than ction work. The lm
departments produced that much documentary footage that it became the core of Palestinian
cinema.77 During this period, over 60 documentary lms were produced compared to one feature
lm.78 The emphasis on documentation can be considered as an active movement against
invisibility. Because of the extensive production of lm materials, the lm department of the PLO,
also known as Palestinian Film Unit, was assigned to establish an archive for Palestinian moving
image in 1975.79 The purpose of the archive was not solely to preserve the lm from the third
period but to unite all Palestinian lm in order to establish a national cinema as well.80
Furthermore, the archive was aimed to provide access to older archival footage, which was often
used in newly produced documentaries.81

This obsessively documenting and archiving the life of Palestinians and all the
accompanying events in occupation, relates to philosopher Jacques Derrida’s theoretical
proposal on ‘Archive Fever.’82 In his lecture on the topic, he compares the archive to the theory on
psychoanalysis by Sigmund Freud.83 He seeks for the di erence between the actual archive that
collects and preserves and the human mind that memorises but also forgets. At the same time,
the archive too retrieves memories but with archiving comes an exclusion and a loss. In short, it is
a comparison between Freud’s theory, that researches why we remember (inside our mind) and
Derrida who questions why we archive (outside our mind). According to Derrida, archive fever is
the desire to archive everything, and more than anything, it is the fear of not having collected
enough and in that way have not done justice to the dead.84

When applying Derrida’s theory on the third era of Palestinian cinema, it appears that there
dominates an archive fever among the Palestinian nationalist institutions and lmmakers. Derrida
de nes archive fever as “to have a compulsive, repetitive, and nostalgic desire for the archive, an
irrepressible desire to return to the origin, a homesickness, a nostalgia for the return to the most
archaic place of absolute commencement.”85 In the Palestinian context, homesickness, nostalgia,

76 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 24.

77 Ibid., p. 25.

78 Ibid., p. 22.

79 Ibid., p. 28.

80 Alawadhi 2013, p. 20.

81 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 28.

82 Derrida 1995.

83 Ibid., p. 11.

84 Ibid., p. 14.

85 Ibid., p. 57.
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 and return to the origin are rooted deeply in a desire for pre-Nakba Palestine. The archive fever is
manifested in the documentation of political events and Palestinian lives, in conjunction with the
use of archival footage in documentaries that shows the obsession with memory and past events.
However, Derrida argues that the archive is never a true representation of the real situation. He
continues by stating that “there is no archive without a place of consignation, without a technique
of repetition, and without a certain exteriority. No archive without outside.”86 From this
perspective, the archive fever is a logical response from Palestinian lmmakers, but can never
replace the actual presence of a nation.

The archive, located in Beirut, was moved several times during the Lebanese war due to
frequent aerial attacks on the PLO.87 In 1982, Israel invaded Lebanon in order to obliterate
Palestinian life in the diaspora, including their culture.88 As a result, the archive and almost all its
material was destroyed. This devastating event marks another signi cant event in the invisibility of
Palestine, as well as the end of the third period of Palestinian cinema.

In response to Israel’s invasion in Lebanon, including the destruction of the Palestinian

organisations, Edward Said wrote the article ‘Permission to Narrate’ in 1984.89 In this article, he
addresses the invisibility of the Palestinian cause, and more speci cally, the Palestinian narrative
(hence the title, ‘Permission to Narrate’).90 Said raises questions on the denial of the Western
media and academic outlets towards the accountability of Israel’s actions.91 He hereby also
touches upon the increasing invisibility of the Palestinian people. He states, among other things,
that “Israel’s war was designed to reduce Palestinian existence as much as possible.”92 Moreover,
he seeks to explain the invisibility of the Palestinian narrative due to the traumatic events and war
of the second and third period of cinema. He notes the following:

I recall during the siege of Beirut obsessively telling friends and family there, over the
phone, that they ought to record, write down their experiences; it seemed crucial as a
starting-point to furnish the world some narrative evidence (…) Naturally, they were all far
too busy surviving to take seriously the unclear theoretical imperatives (…) As a result,
most of the easily available written material produced since the fall of Beirut has in fact not
been Palestinian and, just as signi cant, it has been of a fairly narrow range of types: a
small archive to be discussed in terms of absences and gaps— in terms either pre-
narrative or, in a sense, anti-narrative. The archive speaks of the depressed condition of
the Palestinian narrative at present.93

86 Derrida 1995, p. 14.

87 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 29.

88 Alawadhi 2013, p. 21.

89 Said 1984.

90 Ibid., p. 27.

91 Ibid., p. 28.

92 Ibid., p. 29.

93 Ibid., p. 38.
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 On the basis of this anecdote, he explains the invisibility of the Palestinian narrative, that is
induced by the lack of documentation by the Palestinian people themselves. Said does not attend
to the destruction of the Palestinian Film Unit, which had documented many events during the
third period of cinema.

Fourth period: cinema of independent lmmakers (late 1980s- 200394)

The fourth period of Palestinian lmmaking started in the late 1980s and is marked by the rst
(1987) and second (2000) Intifada (translation: shaking o , used to refer to the civil uprising in
Palestine).95 The Intifada was a transition of passive activism into more active and outspoken
activism. The motivation behind the rst Intifada was an accumulation of the economic crisis that
a ected the Palestinians the most, and the occupation that started to seem irreversible.96 The in
1987 Intifada induced a peace treaty between the Palestinian and Israeli forces. At the same
negotiations, Palestine gained a larger degree of autonomy and was allowed to organise its own
government.97 Self-evidently, this is rather a simpli ed description of the Intifada and the political
situation of Palestine in that period. The battle for independence persisted, meaning that cinema
remained a low priority for the Palestinian government, and the same applies for funding.98 The
lack of nancial resources caused the lmmakers to extend their practice to foreign countries
from the diaspora. Gertz and Khlei claim that

Palestinian lmmakers of our time have been burdened with a double role: both to
continue their creative endeavour and to bring down the walls of apathy surrounding the
international institutions that might be able to help fund the Palestinian cinematic e ort.99

The fourth period of Palestinian cinema can be characterised as the ‘Cinema of

Independent Filmmakers’ as well as ‘Independent Cinema’, ‘Palestinian Cinema from the
Occupied Lands’, ‘Post-Revolution Cinema’, or ‘Individualistic Cinema.’100 This period generated
well-known names in Palestinian national cinema, such as Elia Suleiman, Rashid Masharawi,
Nizar Hassan, Hani Abu-Assad, and Michel Khlei .101 The fourth period commences with the

94 The end of the fourth period is estimated by myself. Gertz & Khlei considered the fourth period in 2008 to be the contemporary
period. Now, in 2022, it can be argued that a new period would have started. In the scope of this thesis, I regard the year 2003 as the
end of the fourth period of Palestinian cinema. In 2003, the ‘Dreams of a Nation’ lm festival was held in order to present an overview
of Palestinian cinema. It is also the year that Sansour produced her rst short lm. As I argue in this thesis, there occurred a turn in
genres at the end of the fourth period, which is very apparent in the work of Sansour.

95 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 30.

96 Ibidem.

97 Ibid., p. 31.

98 Ibidem.

99 Ibid., pp. 31-32.

100 Ibid., p. 33.

101 Ibidem.
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 debut- lm of lmmaker Michel Khlei Fertile Memory (1980).102 The lm represents the
characteristics of the fourth period, as it was produced by funding of three European lm
institutions. In Fertile Memory, Khlei sought to suppress the boundaries between reality and
ction.103 The content of the lm corresponds to a documentary, while Khlei used the technique
of ctional lm.104 This shift from documentary to ction is a characteristic of this period,
considering it produced relatively more ction lms than the earlier periods, albeit with still a
surplus in documentary lm.105

Khlei ’s lm production illustrates another feature of this period, which is the international
collaboration and funding. Majority of the Palestinian lmmakers attended ( lm) education in the
diaspora, since this was not a possibility in Palestine.106 The education abroad did bring
knowledge and cinematic skills to Palestine, once these lmmakers returned. However, the
Palestinian directors depended on the funding of international lm institutions for their
productions, although the budgets remained low. Also the lms shot in Palestine relied on the
diaspora for post-production, which was not possible in the homeland due to lack of technology
and resources. The international collaborations did give rise to the international recognition of
Palestinian cinema.107 This was particularly important during this era, considering the increasing
limitations for Palestinian lmmakers to screen their work in Palestine and the Arab world. The
Arab countries feared screening Palestinian lms due to its nationalist nature, thus as a result they
only screened commercial lm.108 Gertz and Khlei moreover claim that at the time there was no
actual lm industry in Palestine: there were almost no movie theatres and the existing lm houses
were censored by the Israeli occupation.109 Palestinian cinema was thus almost invisible in
Palestine and the neighbouring countries. As a result of the restrictions these lmmakers
experienced, their work became increasingly interesting for the lm festival circuit.110 In 1992, the
Jerusalem Film Institute organised its rst lm festival contributed to Palestinian cinema.111 Other
initiatives followed, including initiatives for mobile cinema in order to bring lm to the refugee
camps.

The cinema of independent lmmaking was marked by the individual experiences of the
lmmakers and their relation to the Palestinian identity. The use of autobiographical elements in
cinema is a quality of what lmmaker and scholar Hamid Na cy refers to as “Accented” or “Exilic

102 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 32.

103 Khlei 2006, p. 51.

104 Gertz & Khlei 2008, p. 32.

105 Ibid., p. 33.

106 Ibidem.

107 Ibidem.

108 Ibid., p. 36.

109 Ibid., pp. 33-35.

110 Ibid, p. 36.

111 Ibidem.
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 Cinema.”112 The lmmakers often manifested autobiographical elements in their lms by
portraying the protagonists, besides directing, writing, and producing the lm. Na cy de nes
Accented Cinema as the cinema of deteterritorialised lmmakers, that portray the conditions of
living in exile, as well as in the diaspora.113 Moreover, Accented Cinema is an interstitial cinema,
as it is created astride, meaning metaphorically with one foot in exile or diaspora and one foot in
the homeland. This cinema embeds a certain sense of criticism, either on the homeland, the host-
nation, or the dispersed living conditions.114 The notion of territory and speci c attachment to a
certain territory (probably the homeland) are central in Accented Cinema and are expressed with a
nostalgic imagery of landscapes, mountains, and monuments.115 Accented Cinema’s emphasis on
space and territory can have di erent expressions. It can either be focused on the imagination of
a homeland, the struggle of existing in a host-nation, or to a intermediary place of exile, such as
refugee camps.

Exilic Cinema is one of the subcategories Na cy proposes within the framework of

Accented Cinema. According to Na cy, Exilic Cinema is more centred around an individualistic
experience.116 Moreover, Exilic Cinema is driven by modernist concerns, such as nationalism and
state formation, therefore refers more directly to the homeland and its territory and to a desire to
recapture the homeland or return to it.117 In the framework of Palestinian cinema, Na cy
distinguishes the internal and external exile of Palestinian lmmakers, which is characteristic for
the Palestinian exile.118 The external exile is de ned as the immigration to other countries
(diaspora), while the internal exile refers to the Palestinians that have been exiled to refugee
camps or live in the Palestine Occupied Territories. Na cy relates the concept of Exilic Cinema
almost directly to the aesthetics of in/visibility. He argues that the inclusion of individual
experiences and autobiographical elements is a response to life in exile because it represents a
desire to include the Palestinian identity and heritage of the lmmakers.119 This can also be seen
in the use of the native language (Arabic) instead of the language of the host-nation, or the use of
Palestinian symbols such as the colours of the ag throughout the period this was prohibited by
the Israeli government.120

Palestinian cinema is frequently placed in a framework of Exilic Cinema or “aesthetics of

exile”, due to its major production in the diaspora.121 Whereas Na cy uses this concept to de ne

112 Na cy 2006, p. 90.

113 Na cy 2001, p. 3.

114 Ibid., p. 8.

115 Ibid., p. 5.

116 Ibid., p. 14.

117 Ibid., p. 27.

118 Na cy 2006, p. 91.

119 Ibid., p. 95.

120 Alawadhi 2013, p. 24.

121 Demos 2013, p. 5.

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 the stylistic character of the cinema, art critic T.J. Demos uses it to criticise the cinema as being a
national cinema.122 Demos asserts that because of the production in diaspora, Palestinian cinema
is in uenced by the diasporic culture as well, which creates a sort of diasporic identity on its own
and thus infects the national cinema.123 Literary and cultural scholar Markus Schmitz addresses
the same issue of cultural production from within the diaspora.124 He states that it is a challenge
to increase the visibility of Palestinian people from within the diaspora and that as a result their
collective identity is a cross-cultural identity with the Arabic world as well as with the western
world.125 The scattered presence of the Palestinians, according to Demos, Schmitz, and Rastegar,
represent both the survival of Palestine as much as the downfall of the national culture.126
However, within the framework of Na cy, the identity of Palestine can be characterised
within the concept of exile. In that way, exile becomes an important aspect of the collective
Palestinian identity. Working from the diaspora also includes several advantages for Palestinian
lmmakers. In their profession, they are often confronted with the disadvantages of the
Palestinian nationality when applying for festivals, biennales, or competitions that require an
acknowledged nationality.127 For this reason, Palestinian lmmakers from the diaspora often use
their second nationality to take part in such events, and hereby increase the visibility of
Palestinian cinema as well. Furthermore, the lmmakers of the fourth period were able to produce
cinema with the help of foreign lm institutes.

In the course of the fourth period, Palestinian institutions became able to again fund
national lm productions, which led to a major increase in cinematic works in the late 1990s.128
This cultural wealth simultaneously induced a transition from predominant documentary works to
the increase of narrative and feature lms. The high production of cinema resulted in the lm
festival ‘Dreams of a Nation’ which was held in Columbia University in New York in 2003.129 On
the occasion of the lm festival, Dabashi published the signi cant eponymous book in which he
introduced the “aesthetics of the invisible” as a framework of Palestinian national cinema.130 The
fourth period of cinema related to the aesthetics of in/visibility through its concern with the
international visibility of Palestinian cinema and its establishment as a national cinema. Due to
international collaborations and the rise of independent lmmakers, Palestinian cinema gained
more international recognition. The increase in lmmaking also induced an academic interest and
Palestinian cinema was contextualised in the framework of Exilic Cinema, which manifests itself

122 Demos 2013, p. 5.

123 Ibid., pp. 120-121.

124 Schmitz 2020, p. 187.

125 Ibidem.

126 Rastegar 2015, p. 120.

127 For an example, see: Hassan 2006.

128 Massad 2006, pp. 37-38.

129 Na cy 2006, p. 18.

130 Ibidem.
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 as an important characteristic in the aesthetics of in/visibility as well. These developments in the
fourth period are the roots of Sansour’s early documentary short lms. Having met her education
in the diaspora, she ts into the framework of diasporic lmmakers. Moreover, as the next section
will demonstrate, her artistic practice passes through a similar turn from documentary to ction.

1.2 The Work of Larissa Sansour

In most overviews of Palestinian cinema (Dabashi, Gertz & Khlei , and Alawadhi) the chronicle
ends after the fourth period of cinema in the early 2000s. Elaborating on the transition from
documentary to ction cinema that is discussed in the literature and the similar transition that is
noticeable in the work of Sansour, it could be argued that starting after the ‘Dreams of a Nation’
festival in 2003, a new period has arrived: the fth period of Palestine cinema, the Cinema of
Fiction. The earlier periods were mostly concerned with the production of documentary lm, that
dominated Palestinian cinema due to its battle for visibility and truthful representation that was
encouraged by nationalist organisations. The paradigm shift into more feature and narrative lms
that was apparent in the work of Khlei , was induced by the increase of nancial resources and
the focus on independent lmmakers rather than on institutions, showing similarities to the
second cinema of the 1960s and 1970s in Europe.

A similar transition can be remarked in the work of Larissa Sansour. Coincidentally, her rst
cinematic work was produced in 2003, the year of the ‘Dreams of a Nation’ festival and the
suggested break from the fourth into the fth period of Palestinian cinema. Her rst work Tank
(2003) depicts documentary footage of a group of Palestinian peace activists who obstruct a tank
of the Israeli army in the Palestine Occupied Territories.131 Sansour kept the footage raw and
unedited in order to retain a sense of remaining close to the reality of these military actions. The
short lm Happy Days (2005) also includes footage of the Palestine Occupied Territories and
displays everyday life in Palestine.132 Both works are aiming to depict the visibility and reality of
daily life under occupation. Although even in her documentary work, Sansour seeks to create a
light-hearted e ect by accompanying the lms with contrasting music. The footage of Tank was
supported with electronic music, while Happy Days was accompanied by the uplifting soundtrack
of the eponymous 1970s tv-series Happy Days.

In Soup over Bethlehem (2006), Sansour documented a dinner conversation with her
family. The conversation about the national dish ‘mloukhieh’ slowly turns into a discussion on
Palestinian identity and culture, and the relation between food and politics in the Palestinian
context. Sansour continues a similar approach in the work Falafel Road (2010) and Feast of the
Inhabitants (2016). Whereas Feast of the Inhabitants can be seen as a parallel to Soup over
Bethlehem, Falafel Road is a collaboration with Israeli visual artist Oreet Ashery. In this lm,

131 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘Tank’.

132 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘Happy Days’.

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 Sansour and Ashery look into the eradication of Palestinian cultural history by the Zionist state, by
discussing and posing the question: did Israel steal the falafel from the Palestinians?133

Still from Larissa Sansour, SOUP OVER BETHLEHEM (2006), Sansour eats dinner with her relatives.

Land Con scation Order (2007) is concerned with the issue of deterritorialisation and the
con scation of Palestinian land by the Israeli authorities. The lm shows Sansour’s siblings
wrapping the small house built on the land of their grandmother. Muller interprets this act as an
indication of “the loss of ownership, but also a loss of place and identity.”134 The small house
covered in a black cloth can be seen as a reference to the invisibility of Palestinian territory,
considering the wrap makes the house disappear.

Throughout her early work, Sansour explores the boundaries between documentary and
ction and how to include absurd or foolish elements in her lms. In 2004, she produced the short
lm Bethlehem Bandolero which portrays a battle between a Mexican gunslinger (Sansour herself)
and the Israeli West Bank barrier (Israeli Wall). The gunslinger walks through the city of Bethlehem,
passing its citizens, on her way to duel the Israeli Wall. The purpose of the video is to ridicule the
irrationality behind the construction of the wall, that was constructed by the Israeli government as
a security barrier against Palestine’s alleged terrorism.135 A similar approach was used in the short

133 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘Falafel Road’.

134 Muller 2013, p. 146.

135 Farhat, ‘BETHLEHEM BANDOLERO’.

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 lm Run Lara Run (2008), in which Sansour is again shown in an encounter with the Israeli wall.
She is seen running around and into barriers
such as gates and the wall that divides the
West Bank from Israel. The character seems
to be looking for a way out. Sansour states
that Run Lara Run addresses “issues of
identity, belonging and displaced identities”,
which emphasises the sense of not being at
home the lm evokes.136 Lastly, the lm Sbara
(2008), the mirror word for Arabs, touches
upon the boundaries of Science Fiction by
referring the Stanley Kubrick’s Sci-Fi lm The
Shining (1980).137 In Sbara Sansour
addresses the more universal issue of the
representation of the Middle East in western Still from Larissa Sansour, BETHLEHEM BANDOLERO (2004), Sansour dressed as
a Mexican gunslinger.
media.

This chapter has provided an overview of the history of Palestinian national cinema in the context
of the aesthetics of in/visibility based on the chronicle framed by Gertz and Khlei . Although this
thesis only provides space for a brief description of the political events that are so closely linked
to Palestinian cinema, this chapter has attempted to uncover the relation between cinema,
politics, and the concept of in/visibility. Every period related to the aesthetics of in/visibility in a
di erent sense. Whereas in the rst era some cinematic work was produced in order to present a
Palestinian narrative, in the second era almost no cinema was made due to the political traumatic
events of al-Nakba and Naksa. The third era was characterised by the nationalist Palestinian
organisation and most lms were commissioned by these institutions. This resulted in an
emphasis on documentary work that has marked the entire reputation of Palestinian cinema. The
surplus of documentary material was induced by the urge for visibility and representation on the
one hand, and due to the low budgets on the other hand. The fourth period was a turning point
for Palestinian cinema on di erent levels. Independent lmmakers dominated this period, causing
the focus on documenting to shift towards the cinematic taste of the lmmakers. Even though
most of the lmmakers kept being concerned with increasing visibility through documentary-like
lms, some started to suppress the boundaries between documentary and ction.

The cinematic work of Sansour builds on this transition from documentary to ction. In a
brief overview of her artistic oeuvre, it was shown how some of her earlier work is similar to earlier
Palestinian lmmakers in both its stylistic choices, as in the focus on in/visibility. To illustrate with
a few examples, Sansour often portrays the protagonist in her work, sometimes accompanied by

136 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘Run Lara Run’.

137 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘Sraba’.

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 her family, and hereby continues along the lines of the fourth period of independent lmmakers. In
a similar way as her predecessors, she seeks to contribute to the visibility of Palestine and the
awareness on the Palestinian cause in work as Tank, Happy Days, and Land Con scation Order. In
other work, such as Soup over Bethlehem, Falafel Road, and Feast of the Inhabitants she focuses
on the concept of invisibility in the Palestinian context. Without an established turning point in her
oeuvre, she explores ways to suppress the boundaries between documentary and ction,
speci cally in Bethlehem Bandolero and Sraba.

In 2009, Sansour produced her rst Sci-Fi short lm named A Space Exodus (2009).
Without permanently abandoning the documentary genre, this can be seen as a notable change in
her oeuvre, since Science Fiction, being an imagined reality, is almost the opposite of the realistic
documentary genre. In view of the focus on documentaries throughout the history of Palestinian
cinema, the change towards Science Fiction raises questions on its signi cance for Palestinian
national cinema. So what exactly is the allure of Science Fiction?

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 Chapter 2: Imagining Palestine

“Is not Palestine the essence of a mythical country, in spite of its reality?”138 - Michel Khlei

The allure for Palestinian lmmakers to focus on (semi)documentary lmmaking is examined to be

a signi cant part of the aesthetics of in/visibility. In establishing a national cinema for a stateless
nation, this supposedly monotonous oeuvre of Palestinian cinema has been criticised. However,
in the development of Palestinian cinema through the di erent era’s it can be noticed that near the
end of the fourth era of cinema and de nitely thereafter there has been a shift towards feature-
lms that are more focused on presenting a ctive story. In an interview, Sansour argues that there
is a sense of “image fatigue” amongst people when it comes to the Palestinian question.139
Instead of feeding this fatigue, Sansour seeks to wake people by o ering a di erent cinematic
language: one of an imagined Palestine.140 Sansour states that her interest in Science Fiction also
arose from the pre-dominant male Arab or Palestinian lmmakers who preferred documentary-
style and low-budget works.141 As a counteraction, she sought to work with ction in productions
with higher budgets to create a new language in Palestinian cinema, of not only ction but a
female gaze.142 Whereas Rastegar argues that ction strengthens the national cinema, Sansour
stresses the allure of Science Fiction by stating that “in Palestine, reality is often stranger than
ction, which makes it easier to achieve conceptual clarity within a ctional realm.”143 This
chapter inquires the characteristics of Science Fiction to see how it can be used in but equally
important to expand the aesthetics of in/visibility and to understand Sansour’s turn to this genre.

2.1 Science Fiction and (Post-)colonialism

In order to grasp the allure of Science Fiction for Palestinian cinema, it is important to understand
the genre in relation to post-colonialism. In a very concise de nition, Science Fiction cinema is
described as “[a lm that] futures a technology beyond the reach of contemporary science.”144
Literary scholar Istvan Csicsery-Ronay jr speci es this de nition by describing that Science
Fiction “sets out to imagine the e ects of any technology that might a ect the way we live
now.”145 Elaborating on the idea of Science Fiction either celebrating or problematising the e ects

138 Khlei 2006, p. 51.

139 Sansour interviewed by Middle East Eye (7 April 2015), cited in Hochberg 2018, p. 38.

140 Ibidem.

141 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 118.

142 Ibidem.

143 Ibid., p. 111.

144 Bordwell 2016, p. 328.

145 Csicsery-Ronay jr 2003, p. 241.

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 of technology, he argues that imperialism can also be seen as an e ect of technology. According
to Csicsery-Ronay jr, technological developments facilitated the physical expansion of imperialist
countries, and led to changes of consciousness with regard to racial and national supremacy.146
Technology thus indirectly enabled colonialism, meaning that imperialist regimes are one of the
e ects of technology to address within Science Fiction work.

With regard to the genre Science Fiction itself, Csicsery-Ronay jr asserts that it can be
seen as an expression caused by the political-cultural transformation that originated in European
imperialism.147 Science Fiction thus originated from the sense of supremacy caused by the
European imperialist regimes towards native inhabitants in colonised countries. It is therefore not
a coincidence that the genre Science Fiction emerged in the late nineteenth century, the heyday
of imperialism, and in imperialist and industrialised countries such as America, Britain, France,
Germany, Japan, and the Soviet union.148 As a result, the fantasies from the early Science Fiction
literature were similar to the ideologies of mastery that inspired the imperialists.149 Literary scholar
Michelle Reid describes this element of Science Fiction as “imagin[ing] encounters with the Other
(the alien, the strange newness brought about by change), typically from the perspective of the
dominant Self.”150 She analysis Science Fiction in the context of post-colonialist theory, which she
argues “interrogates the Self/Other power relationships created by the colonial encounter.”151
Reid’s theoretical framework tells us that Science Fiction is closely linked to post-colonialism.

However, for a long time, the connection between Science Fiction and imperialism was not
recognised in the academic discourse. According to literary scholar Isiah Lavender III, Science
Fiction was considered to be “colourblind”, or in other words, free from racial struggle.152
Lavender claims that this statement can be challenged within the context of ‘Critical Race
Theory’, which is concerned with a structural understanding of societies that shows how racism is
involved in almost every interaction.153 In the application of critical race theory on Science Fiction,
this means that the predominant white perspective was considered to be a neutral identity,
whereas critical race theory challenges the idea of “whiteness as the norm.”154 The
colourblindness in Science Fiction is expressed by hiding the notion of race in the encounter of
the Self and the Other through including the human-alien dichotomy.155 In light of critical race
theory, race is undeniably present in the encounter of the Self and the Other. In combination with

146 Csicsery-Ronay jr 2003, p. 233.

147 Ibid., p. 231.

148 Reid 2009, p. 258.

149 Csicsery-Ronay jr 2003, p. 234.

150 Reid 2009, p. 257

151 Ibidem.

152 Lavender III 2009, p. 185.

153 Ibidem.

154 Ibidem.

155 Reid 2009, p. 262.

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the predominant imperialist narrative in Science Fiction, the Self is often the representation of the
coloniser, while the Other is the representation of the colonised. Accordingly, these terms can be
considered as imperialist as well. Post-colonial literary scholar Haidar Eid claims that this concept
is incorrect, considering that from the perspective of the colonised, the coloniser can be seen as
the Other and not the Self.156 In the context of this thesis, the terms of Self and Other will be
abandoned in further discussion of the subject. When addressing the relation between Science
Fiction and colonialism, I will make use of more direct references such as ‘coloniser’ or
‘imperialist’, and ‘native’ or ‘indigenous.’

In the 1960s, the predominant narrative in Science Fiction began to change, as the genre
became popular in (post-)colonial areas, such as Latin America.157 These texts are classi ed
under the genre of “Magical Realism”, which is de ned as the “postcolonial representation of two
world views, histories and even ideologies” and therefore has a strong connection to the
(post-)colonial areas.158 Even though Magical Realism is an unquestionably di erent genre than
Science Fiction (Magical Realism combines magical elements in a realist world that resembles our
own, whereas Science Fiction creates an altered world that is imagined due to scienti c
developments), it is important to brie y touch upon in the context of post-colonialism and Science
Fiction. Literary scholar Pramod K. Nayar de nes magical realist work as a pre-colonial and pre-
capitalist past that imagines escaping the (post-)colonial present.159 From this de nition, Magical
Realism is an interesting strategy for artists from the (post-)colonial areas to reclaim the narrative
of their identity and culture. It also illustrates a sense of nostalgia for a pre-colonial past, which
indirectly refers to a past in which indigenous have not been colonised. Moreover, it
acknowledges the existence of pre-colonial worlds, which often have not been recognised in
hegemonic narratives.

However, according to literary scholar Lydie Moudileno, Magical Realism from the 1960s
has been criticised in the way that is draws upon a “postcolonial exotic” or “exotic escape.” This
critique of exoticism refers to the fascination with a pre-colonial past, that is not just nostalgia, but
can also be seen as fetishising of (post-)colonial countries by (post-)colonial writers.160 Moudileno
considers this as problematic considering a similar strategy was employed by early imperialist
writers, whose narrative was based on the supremacy of the imperialist countries with regard to
the colonised countries. In this sense, the indigenous writers were still presenting an imperialist
perspective. She then argues that certain texts from indigenous writers show more characteristics
of speculative ction than Magical Realism.161 Moudileno claims that magical realists rethink their
past in order to acknowledge the existing worlds that have been displaced by colonialism,
whereas speculative ction (and Science Fiction) project the same ideas onto a future that is

156 Haidar Eid, in: SPUI 25 2021.

157 Moudileno 2020, p. 67.

158 Nayar 2015, p. 107.

159 Ibidem.

160 Moudileno 2020, p. 74.

161 Ibid., p. 68.

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based on a pre-colonial past.162 The latter strategy invokes post-colonial concerns in another
sense, considering it enables the imagination of a future that di ers from the dominant colonial
narrative. It can thus be said that magical realists still worked to much within an imperialist world
view, whereas Science Fiction provides elements to escape and even remove the imperialist
perspective to imagine a di erent future. Nevertheless, Moudileno states that the works of
Magical Realism functioned as an important step in “de-westernizing narratives.”163

2.2 Futurisms

2.2.1 Afrofuturism
A genre that elaborates on the strategy of Magical Realism is Afrofuturism. Moudileno argues that
Afrofuturism combines characteristics of Magical Realism and Science Fiction.164 Whereas
Magical Realism was mostly expressed as a literary genre, Afrofuturism is expressed through
literature, visual art, music, and grassroots organizations.165 Moreover, similar to Science Fiction,
Afrofuturism seeks to create an alternate future for (post-)colonial Africa. This refers to the
concept of ‘the ‘prolepsis’, which is de ned as the representation of a future event, as if it already
existed or had occurred. The reconsideration of Magical Realism along with the speculative turn
in African criticism, resulted in academic writings proposing a framework for Afrofuturism.

The term Afrofuturism was introduced in 1993 by cultural critic Mark Dery in his text ‘Black
to the Future’ and covers artistic work that focuses on imagining an alternate future as an
alternative to a future that is based on colonial history for (post-)colonial Africa and Africans in the
diaspora.166 Art theorist Kodwo Eshun has created a more extensive framework for Afrofuturism in
which he de nes the genre as one that assembles “counter-memories that contest the colonial
archive.”167 Demos de nes the term counter-memory as “a practice of memory formation that is
social and political, one that runs counter to the society of the spectacle.”168 In the context of
Afrofuturism, it concerns memory formation that is counter to the established imperialist narrative,
and thus creates memories of a pre-colonial time. Demos argues that the creation of counter-
memories is important for the future and decolonialisation of (post-)colonial areas, but, as I want
to add, also for the decolonisation of the mind.169 Eshun elaborates on this idea by stating that
Afrofuturism is concerned with creating counter-memories (in the past) as well as counter-futures
(in the future). This idea of the ‘proleptic’ is very common in Science Fiction, as it refers to the

162 Moudileno 2020, p. 74.

163 Ibid., p. 78.

164 Ibid., p. 74.

165 Ibid., p. 75.

166 Dery 1994, p. 180.

167 Eshun 2003, p. 288.

168 Demos 2012.

169 Ibidem.
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 foreshadowing of a future that has resulted from a certain past and present, or a future as the
result of technological developments. To concretise, by creating both counter-memories and
counter-futures afrofuturists seek to express resistance against the pre-dominant narrative and to
reclaim their own narrative.

Focusing on an alternate future is also a way to criticise the present and to create
awareness for a future dystopia.170 Afrofuturism aims to re-situate postcolonial areas in the global
past, present, and future. According to Reid, the overlap of time periods, a strategy often used in
(afro)futurism, combines features of magic realism, in which the colonial past haunts the
protagonist and breaks into the post-colonial present, and Science Fiction, in which present-day
post-colonial power imbalances are the basis for future dystopias.171 As a result, futurist genres
relate as much to the past as they do to the future.172

Besides the proleptic and the retrospective, Eshun covers themes related to Afrofuturism
as well as the colonial experience, such as trauma, dislocation, and alienation.173 What is
interesting to note here, is the fact that these themes were addressed in the aesthetics of in/
visibility in Palestinian cinema as well. On the topic of trauma, Eshun argues that Afrofuturism
“stages a series of enigmatic returns to the constitutive trauma of slavery in the light of Science
Fiction.”174 He thus states that this kind of genre is concerned with collective trauma. Whereas
slavery is the collective trauma for Africans and the African diaspora, in the context of Palestine,
this collective trauma is al-Nakba. Expanding on the ideas of Eshun, writer and scholar So a
Samatar notes that collective trauma is strongly related to remembering and forgetting.175 On the
one hand, the trauma can never be forgotten, however, on the other hand, one of the core
components of trauma is forgetting: the loss of languages, culture, and even land.176

Both slavery and al-Nakba have led to the dislocation of large groups of people. Eshun
argues that imposed dislocation in Afrofuturism is often expressed through extraterrestrial
themes.177 Undiscovered or uninhabited spaces, as in outer space, provide interesting ground for
exploring pre-colonial pasts or non-colonised futures. The experience of dislocation goes hand in
hand with a feeling of alienation. Eshun states that the sense of alienation is expressed in a
di erent way than in early Science Fiction.178 Whereas symbols of alienation have been used in
early Science Fiction to represent colonised subjects and to apply racial struggles on alien gures
from an imperialist perspective, it is used by afrofuturists to criticise the sense of alienation that is

170 Eshun 2003, p. 293.

171 Reid 2009, p. 264.

172 Eshun 2003, p. 289.

173 Ibid., p. 298.

174 Ibid., p. 299.

175 Samatar 2017, p. 180.

176 Ibidem.

177 Eshun 2003, p. 298.

178 Eshun 2003, p. 288.

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 caused by imperialists. It can further be considered as a critique on the exclusion of the narrative
of black subjects in Western history, humanism and philosophy.179 Eshun states that the theme of
alienation is addressed in (afro)futurist works in order to create disalienation in the real world.180
Samatar contends that the use of alienation in afrofuturist works “provokes engagement with
dystopian Science Fiction.”181 It is therefore interesting to inquire into the concept of the dystopia
as well.

In the context of Afrofuturism, it is necessary to discuss three types of dystopias: the

classical dystopia, the critical dystopia, and the concrete dystopia. According to literary scholars
Rafaella Baccolini and Tom Moylan, a dystopian turn occurred in the 1980s, in response to the
celebration of George Orwell’s work Nineteen Eighty-Four.182 The dystopian turn revived the
dystopian genre, not only in literature, but in academics as well. In general, the dystopia can be
de ned as a pessimist presentation of a social alternative, but with a utopian tendency of hope.183
The main characteristic of a dystopian work is that it aims to function as a warning for the
contemporary society.184 The story sets o in an undesirable anti-utopian world, and is
constructed around a hegemonic order and a counter-narrative of resistance (the one of the
protagonist).185 The dystopia contains the utopian aspect of “social dreaming”, which is the act of
envisioning a di erent kind of society than the one of the protagonist through dreams and
nightmares.186 Baccolini and Moylan uncovered a tendency after the dystopian turn towards a
new genre of dystopia that di ered from the classical dystopia.187

The critical dystopia di ers from the classical dystopia in how the utopian elements are
integrated in the work. In the critical dystopia, the utopian impulse occurs inside the work and
prevails among the protagonist, whereas in the classical dystopia, the utopian impulse remains
outside the work in the mind of the reader.188 The component of hope is particularly signi cant for
the critical dystopia, and often expressed through an open ending of the story.189 However,
Baccolini argues that an open ending does not equal a happy ending.190 The open end often
concerns the protagonist who has accepted their accountability and responsibility in the
dystopian world, the rest of the story is to be continued. Baccolini furthermore states that the

179 Samatar p. 182.

180 Eshun 2003, p. 298.

181 Samatar 2017, p. 181.

182 Baccolini & Moylan 2003, p. 2.

183 Ibid., p. 6.

184 Ibid., p. 2.

185 Ibid., p. 5.

186 Ibidem.

187 Ibidem.

188 Ibid., p. 7.

189 Baccolini & Moylan 2003, p. 7.

190 Baccolini 2004, p. 521.

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 critical dystopia is more concerned with collective memory compared to an individual experience
in the classical dystopia.191 For this reason, the critical dystopia corresponds more to the
framework of Afrofuturism.

The third type of dystopia that is interesting to discuss within this framework is the
concrete dystopia, that was introduced by literary scholar Maria Varsam. According to Varsam,
the concrete dystopia di ers from the aforementioned genres, as it emphasises real conditions in
society.192 The concrete dystopia is based on dystopian historical reality, such as slavery.193
Varsam states that the present and past conditions are already dystopian in their function and
e ect and the work contains a strong sense of desire for a better world.194 The concrete dystopias
evoke feelings of fear, despair, and alienation, and unlike the other types of dystopia, there is no
sense of hope.195 The concrete dystopia focuses on looking backward, whereas the other types
focus on looking forward. In this way, this genre is more concerned with the past and present than
with the future. Similar to Afrofuturism, the concrete dystopia is based on collective trauma, which
in the African context is often the experience and e ects of slavery, but in the Palestinian context
can refer to the experience and e ects of al-Nakba.

Including the dystopian elements, it can be said that Afrofuturism strongly relates to the
concept of time. Samatar already asserted that the genre is always concerned with all times: past,
present, and future.196 Afrofuturism is about rethinking or rearticulating a past, instead of a
colonial past, and imagining a future (the proleptic). Considering the dystopia criticises the
present, it can be said that Afrofuturism is concerned with the present as well. In short,
Afrofuturism relates to themes of alienation, dislocation, and trauma, and hereby creates a
paradigm of time in which past, present, and future overlap. Whereas Afrofuturism refers to Africa
and the African diaspora, the central themes in this genre can be applied to other regions that
have experienced imperialist oppression. However, certain events in African history, such as
slavery, has not been experienced by every colonised region. As a result, in the last decade other
futurist genres have been introduced and are necessary to discuss in the context of Palestine and
the work of Sansour. 


191 Baccolini 2004, p. 521.

192 Varsam 2003, p. 208.

193 Ibidem.

194 Ibidem.

195 Ibid., p. 209.

196 Samatar 2017, p. 178.

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 2.2.2 (Counter)Futurisms and Palestine
New media theorist Jussi Parikka introduced the term “Counterfuturism” to refer to a
heterogeneous group of futurisms that “complicate normalised notions of time and technology,
but in an alternative geopolitical context.”197 In this way, futures and pasts are written into
existence. Each geographical location, or ethnic group with a shared history and/or culture can
create work along the aesthetic characteristics of the genre, thus enabling a large scale of
possible futurisms. Counterfuturisms address issues of climate change, geopolitics,
dispossession and alienation, where local situations become indicators for a shared language.198
Building on the framework of Afrofuturism, Parikka argues that counterfuturist artists employ a
di erent understanding of time compared to the hegemonic Western narrative in history.199 The
characteristics of Science Fiction allow the counterfuturist artists to articulate counter-memories
and imagine alternate pasts and futures. Whereas Eshun describes how Afrofuturism was
expressed in di erent kinds of mediums, due to the use of alternative times, Parikka argues that
the audiovisual practice as most su cient for the counter-futurisms.200 In his article, Parikka
speci cally concentrates on the counterfuturisms that arose in the Middle East: Gulf Futurism and
Arab Futurism. As he explains, there is not really a homogeneous aesthetic for the Middle Eastern
Futurisms.201 Parikka states that, in general, futurisms from the Middle East help to understand
the region!s temporal power (power relations between state and religion), territorial claims and
dislocations, and propose a post-colonial future, while addressing themes of race, placelessness
and contested histories.202

The term Gulf Futurism was introduced by artists Fatima Al Qadiri and Sophia Al-Maria to
address futurist work from artist that are from, and deal with geopolitical structures in the Arabian
Gulf (Saudi Arabia, Bahrein, Iraq, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates.)203 One of
the speci c recurring topics in Gulf Futurism is the exploitation of the oil industry. This topic is
addressed as a critique on international capitalism and its a ect on the environment, society, and
individuals.204 Parikka also argues that it is a critique on the Middle East urban elite lifestyles,
which he describes as “local and Islamic traditions entangled with consumer capitalism of the
petrol era privatised transport and electronic culture.”205

Another particular characteristic of this genre is the way it treats the concept of the
proleptic. Gulf Futurism is described as the “already arrived futurism” due to its rapid changes in

197 Parikka 2018, p. 40.

198 Ibid., p. 54.

199 Ibid., p. 42.

200 Ibidem.

201 Ibidem.

202 Parikka 2018, p. 42; Parikka 2018, p. 50.

203 DAZED DIGITAL 2012.

204 Parikka 2018, p. 46.

205 Ibid., pp. 46-47.

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architecture and technology since the 1970s.206 He furthermore argues that Gulf Futurism is a
projection of our global future when looking at the hypermodern architecture in some areas of the
Gulf, for example in Dubai or Abu Dhabi.207 Parikka asserts that this development, also referred to
as “Dubai speed”, evoked a sense of dislocated time that is thus already present in the area itself
and not just in the futurist artworks.208 However, according to lm scholar Erika Balsom, “The term
suggests that certain aspects of how the West imagines the future are already manifest in the Gulf
states of the Middle East.”209 In other words, Gulf Futurism, imagines a future from a Western
perspective.

The extremely rapid urban development in the Arabian Gulf can therefore be considered as
a real-life Science Fiction trope, as in the words of Parikka: “the future that landed in the
desert.”210 Along that line, gulf futurist work addresses the erasure of memory and individual
familiar surroundings caused by the sudden collective arrival in the future.211 Gulf Futurism in that
sense fundamentally deviates from Afrofuturism. It addresses an existing dislocation of time in the
present, without the utopian potential of Afrofuturism or the dystopian genre. To quote Parikka:
“not a future to aspire towards, but a future that was already prescribed, premediated and
integrated as a temporal infrastructure.”212 The future is thus already here, leaving no future to
imagine. This can either increase the dystopian character of Gulf Futurism, considering the
displacement that was caused by the rapid modernisation has become a permanent reality, or
lead to critiques, for example from art critic Rahel Aima, who argues that Gulf Futurism for local
geopolitical contexts does not o er a new imagery to displace the hegemonic narrative.213 She
states that Gulf Futurism lacks the purpose of social justice, which other counterfuturisms do
not.214

Arab Futurism was introduced in a manifesto written by artist and writer Sulaïman Majali in
2015. It is a theoretical proposal that does not refer to a movement, but rather to a future beyond
“Eurocentric hegemonic narratives.”215 Arab Futurism seeks to transform current representation of
the Arab world and to re-examine and interrogate ctional historical narratives.216 It is thus about
the power to reclaim and de ne a narrative. Parikka argues that in this sense, Arab Futurism
addresses the dominant Orientalist legacy by refusing the earlier determined temporal and

206 Parikka 2018, p. 41; Parikka 2018, p. 46.

207 Ibid., p. 41.

208 Ibidem.

209 Balsom 2020.

210 Parikka 2018, p. 41.

211 DAZED DIGITAL, 2012.

212 Parikka 2018, p. 46.

213 Rahel Aima interviewed by Scott Smith, in: Smith 2013.

214 Ibidem.

215 Majali 2015.

216 Ibidem.
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 geographic conditions.217 Arab Futurism imagines a post-orientalist future. Parikka does not
elaborate on speci c characteristics of this Futurism in the way he analysed Gulf Futurism,
considering the Arab world is a heterogeneous area in identity, culture, and history. However, Arab
Futurism does invoke the sense of social justice, of which Gulf Futurism is criticised to lack. The
di erent futurisms that are geographically close to Palestine, do provide insights in strategies that
can be used in order to address the Palestinian geopolitical context.

Returning to Parikka’s statement that in counterfuturisms local situations become indicators for
shared languages, it can be argued that each identity can create its own type of Futurism. When
addressing the deeper layer of futurist practices, Parikka states that “instead of mourning a lost
future, the artistic practices examined here turn to looking at conditions of time and temporality as
central to the functioning of power, mapping the situations in which futurity is important for
current practices of living and exploring the ways in which an analysis of dislocations of identity
and time can become more than mere dystopic representations.”218 In the same regard, Hochberg
has stated that “This making and remaking, this activization, tells us something about the present
in relation to both potential histories (histories that did not come about, but could have) and
potential futures (becomings that in the present exist only in the form of a fantasy or Science
Fiction). These potential futures are the mark of collective aspirations to live otherwise.”219 She
hereby asserts that imagining alternate pasts and futures are a way to not only criticise, but to
express dissatisfaction with current conditions. This is applicable to the Palestinian national
cinema, that is not solely focussed on creating an artistic practice but also on creating visibility,
awareness and change for the Palestinian cause. In the context of Palestine, the aesthetics of in/
visibility would be a key element in a Futurism that focuses on Palestine. To oppose this notion of
invisibility, the idea of creating counter-memories and imagining alternate pasts and futures are
particularly interesting.

Articulating an alternative past through the creation of counter-memories are interesting

characteristics for the aesthetics of in/visibility because it acts against the invisibility of Palestine
in a rather di erent sense than the documentary impetus in Palestinian cinema. The idea of
counter-memory enables artists and lmmakers to form memories that run counter to the
hegemonic Western narrative. With regard to the absence and erasure of Palestine in global
history, this means that actual memories can be written into existence. In that sense, creating an
alternative past can indicate re-creating an actual past into the hegemonic narrative. Elaborating
on this idea, employing strategies from Science Fiction and futurisms can be a way to archive
memories that have been lost, causing archive fever to be a possible recurring element in
Palestinian Sci-Fi or futurist work as well.

Parikka has underlined the alternative use of time in Futurisms (through the use of Science
Fiction characteristics), which enables the artists and lmmakers to address the same issue in a

217 Parikka 2018, p. 49.

218 Ibid., p. 55.

219 Hochberg 2021, p. 14.

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 di erent context. According to Rastegar, this overlap in time periods is also relevant for the
Palestinian cinema, that stresses a sense of nostalgia to return to a pre-colonial, pre-1948
Palestine.220 Therefore, it can be said that the perception of time in Palestinian cinema is cyclical
in which a loop of past, present, and future is being repeated, instead of presenting a linear
passage of time.

Moreover, as Sansour has stated, the use of Science Fiction enables artists and
lmmakers to freely address the Palestinian cause by escaping to the future. Additionally, an
escape to the future can help to explore certain solutions to the Palestinian cause. As was shown
in the dystopian genre, however, imagining a future can have a dark side. The dystopia enables
artists and lmmakers to present a future from a darker and more pessimistic perspective. A
dystopian future world can function as a warning; what happens if this goes on? The signi cant
element of the dystopia is that it criticises the present world. Sansour argues that with regard to
Palestine, there can not be spoken of a viable present. For this reason, the genre of Science
Fiction, that enables to rethink the past and imagine the future, is particularly interesting for
Palestinian national cinema.221

This chapter has attempted to indicate how post-colonial and futurist strategies within the
genre of Science Fiction enable artists and lmmakers to address the aesthetics of in/visibility as
a theme that recurs both in the history of Palestinian cinema as in the work of Sansour. This
illustrated how the alternative use of time, the past-present-future paradigm, the dystopia, and
themes as dispossession and alienation have proven to be viable elements for Palestinian national
cinema and art practices. This chapter has touched upon the allure for Sansour to make a
conceptual and imaginary shift by employing the genre of Science Fiction. The rst two chapters
have laid out a theoretical framework through which Sansour’s Science Fiction short lms can be
discussed and analysed. The next chapter includes a close-reading of Sansour’s Science Fiction
works through the lens of the established theoretical framework, hereby providing insight in how
Sansour invokes the material and political reality of Palestine by employing the Sci-Fi genre.

220 Rastegar 2015, p. 106.

221 Sansour in an interview with Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 61.
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 Chapter 3: The Myth of Palestine

Sansour considers Science Fiction as a liberating genre in which the political situation in Palestine
can be addressed in every lm in a di erent context.222 She stresses the creative freedom that is
provided by Science Fiction to create work that is free from political jargon, or present-day
context, or consequences.223 Muller underlines the signi cance of Science Fiction for Palestinian
cinema by stating that Science Fiction grants Sansour a space to criticise, explore and speculate
on a future for Palestine in which fact and ction come together.224 In her early work Sansour
appealed to the material and political reality of Palestine by addressing life under occupation in
documentary short lms. She either addressed Palestine’s struggle with invisibility or sought to
contribute to Palestine’s visibility by including documentary footage. The previous chapter has
indicated which strategies of Science Fiction and Futurism can be used to address the material
and political reality of Palestinian in an imaginative space. This chapter shows through an analysis
of Sansour’s Sci-Fi short lms how she exploits these strategies.

The rst three Science Fiction works A Space Exodus, Nation Estate, and In the Future
They Ate from the Finest Porcelain are often discussed as a trilogy. These works will be analysed
more brie y in the framework of the aesthetics of in/visibility in order to demonstrate certain
concepts and techniques that led into Sansour’s most recent cinematic production In Vitro. The
lms have been analysed through a close reading for text evidence in which the meaning of
certain images, recurring symbols, dialogues, and titles have been interpreted in the scope of this
thesis. Two concepts from the thesis have guided the analysis: the aesthetics of in/visibility and
the futurist concept of the alternative use of time.

3.1 A Space Exodus (2009)

A Space Exodus (2009) is Sansour’s rst Science Fiction work. The lm portrays Sansour as an
astronaut, or a Palestinaut, that is approaching the moon. In the rst scenes she is seen in her
spaceship, and is in contact with the home base, Jerusalem. “Jerusalem, we have a problem” one
hears, a reference to the “Houston, we have a problem”, the words spoken to NASA’s home base
in Houston by the astronauts of Apollo 13. This is followed by the phrase “No everything is ne,
we are back on track” during which the Palestinaut pulls a handle. After about one minute, the
astronaut approaches the moon and leaves the spaceship and copies to the home base that “The
sunbird has landed.” The astronaut then plants the Palestinian ag on the surface of the moon
and one hears: “One small step for a Palestinian, one giant leap for mankind” a reference to the
words spoken by Neil Armstrong “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” After this
act, the Palestinaut leaves the moon and starts to oat through space. “Jerusalem? Jerusalem?”

222 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 111.

223 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 61.

224 Muller 2019a, p. 14.

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it sounds, when the astronaut tries to contact the home base again, without response. Finally, the
Palestinaut oats into oblivion.

A Space Exodus can be analysed through multiple interpretations that each refer to the
futurist idea of rethinking the past, criticising the present, and imagining the future. An
interpretation, suggested by writer and curator Perwana Nazif, presents a dystopian future that is
based on one of the poems in artist Etel Adnan’s publication Arab Apocalypse (1980).225 The
poem in question contains the following sentence: “the Palestinians are dumped in a space-craft
heading for the moon.”226 In this context, A Space Exodus presents an alternative and dystopian
future for the Palestinians in which they are forced o the earth. Curator Nat Muller furthermore
interprets the nal scene in which the Palestinaut oats into space as a metaphor for the
increasing space between earth and the Palestinians, meaning the earth becomes a less and less
viable place to live.227

Still from Larissa Sansour, A SPACE EXODUS (2006), Sansour dressed as an

astronaut.

Sansour claims that A Space Exodus is a “comment on territorial decimation and

colonialism.”228 The lm depicts an alternative history in which Palestine has colonised the
moon.229 Muller has referred to A Space Exodus as a re-appropriation of the Zionist phrase “A
land without a people for a people without a land” that was used to promote Palestine as an
empty land for the Jews.230 According to Muller, Sansour declares the moon (a land without a
people) suitable for the Palestinians (people with a disappearing land) to inhabit.231 The act of the
Palestinaut planting the Palestinian ag into the surface of the moon is thus a symbol of

225 Nazif 2018.

226 Ibidem.

227 Muller 2019b.

228 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 115.

229 Ibidem.

230 Muller 2019b.

231 Ibidem.
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 colonisation of a new land. This is also a way of rethinking the past and articulating an alternative
history in which Palestine is the coloniser instead of the colonised. Turning the perspective of
coloniser and colonised contributes to the alienating layer of the lm. In this case, however, the
colonised land is indeed an uninhabited area and in this way the lm criticises the Zionist
propaganda for the settler colonisation of Palestine.

A di erent interpretation could be that in A Space Exodus, Sansour appropriated the

famous moon landing of 1969, but instead of the United States being the rst nation to land on
the moon, it is Palestine. In this way, Sansour writes Palestine into world history. This raises
questions such as what if Palestine was the rst nation on the moon and as a result would have a
prominent position in global history? The alternative history presented by Palestine then also
refers to the aesthetics of in/visibility. Palestinians have struggled with mostly being invisible in
history and media, and A Space Exodus retroactively seeks to create visibility for the Palestinians.
As Moudileno has argued, ctitiously rethinking the past enables writers and artists to create a
di erent present and imagine a di erent future.232 Within the terms of futurisms, the past is often
rethought by creating counter-memories that contest the colonial archive (in which Palestine is
often absent).233 It can be seen as an act of resistance against the pre-dominant narrative, from
which Sansour seeks to break free. Creating counter-memories allows artists to dissociate from
the colonial past, which is important in order to decolonise areas as well as the mind.

The lm contains several allusions to the aesthetics of in/visibility. One noticeable symbol
is the presence of the Palestinian ag. The ag is planted in the surface of the moon and visible
on the Palestinaut’s suit. The Palestinian ag is a signi cant symbol of in/visibility. In 1967, the
Israeli government forbade the appearance of the Palestinian ag, which continued throughout
the fourth period of Palestinian cinema. As a result, not only the ag but equally important its
colour combination became a symbol of resistance for the Palestinian people. The ag can thus
be seen as a metaphor for the presence and visibility of Palestine, in this case on the moon.
Moreover, the Palestinaut is referred to as ‘Sunbird’, which is an indigenous Palestinian bird. The
title of A Space Exodus comprehends several references as well. First, the title is a derivative from
the Science Fiction lm 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Secondly, the word ‘Exodus’, a term that
is often used when addressing the Palestinian cause, refers to the eponymous second book of
the bible that contains the story of prophet Moses who leads the Israelites out of Egypt. The term
Exodus is later used more generally to describe “the movement of a lot of people from a place”
and is thus also used to refer to the movement of the Palestinians into refugee camps or the
diaspora after al-Nakba, thereby contributing to the invisibility of the Palestinian people in their
homeland.234

Even though A Space Exodus does not contain any dialogue, the spoken phrases allude to
the aesthetics of in/visibility. The well-known quote “One small step for man, one giant leap for
mankind” is re-used and re-written in a way that it includes the Palestinian nationality. Moreover,

232 Moudileno 2020, p. 74.

233 Eshun 2003, p. 288.

234 CAMBRIDGE DICTIONARY.

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when the Palestinaut oats into oblivion, she makes one last call to Jerusalem that remains
unanswered. By letting the Palestinaut oat into space, A Space Exodus illustrates a dual
disconnection to the homeland: on the one hand the broken connection to Jerusalem, and on the
other hand the loss of connection to the new homeland, the moon. Whereas the call can be
interpreted as an unanswered call for help, it could also refer to the actual city of Jerusalem, that
for some Palestinians is di cult, if not impossible, to reach. It furthermore evokes a sense of
despair in the Palestinian cause in which even this Sci-Fi trope as nal resort, inhabiting the
moon, seems to be unviable.

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3.2 Nation Estate (2012)
Nation Estate depicts a dystopian future world in which the nation Palestine accommodated in a
large skyscraper, also referred to as Nation Estate (wordplay on nation-state). The protagonist,
again portrayed by Sansour, enters the building through an underground train station. She enters
the main hall of the building in which the Palestinian ag is centrally and proudly placed above the
reception. Inhabitants of the building enter by means of an eye-scan and ngerprint. Next to the
elevator, an index displays all di erent oors that represent Palestinian regions, such as
Jerusalem, Gaza City, and Bethlehem but also institutions, such as the university, hospital, and
museum. The protagonist joins two other inhabitants, played by Sansour’s relatives, in the
elevator; they are all wearing the same uniform. The two neighbours leave at the oor of
Jerusalem. The protagonist looks longingly at the Al Aqsa mosque. She then gets o at the oor
of Bethlehem. While passing signi cant landmarks of Bethlehem, she walks to her residence and
enters with a room-card that shows the Palestinian ag. In her apartment, she stows away her
luggage and waters her olive tree. In the kitchen are ready-made traditional Palestinian dishes,
such as Mloukhieh and Marmoan. The meals contain a futuristic technology that heats the food
by pressing a button on the lunch boxes. Her apartment has a view on Jerusalem: in sight, but far
away. When the protagonist unblinds the window she stares with longingly to the skyline of
Jerusalem. The camera-angle changes and reveals that the protagonist is pregnant. Her anxious
breathing increases while the shot zooms out and exposes the Palestinian Estate skyscraper in its
entirety, revealing the fence that is surrounding the building.

Still from Larissa Sansour, NATION ESTATE (2012), Sansour dressed in the same uniform as her neighbours and looking at the al-Aqsa
mosque.

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 In Nation Estate Sansour alludes to the aesthetics of in/visibility and the alternative use of
time in a dystopian manner. The short lm contains multiple symbols that refer to the Palestinian
nation and culture, such as the ag, traditional food, the olive tree, and monumental sites and
thereby increases the presence of Palestine. The short lm is also referred to as the “vertical
solution to Palestinian statehood”, considering it can be seen as a sign of self-determination for
Palestine.235 An independent nation housed in a skyscraper seems to o er some advantages to
the current situation of many Palestinians: it enables free travel, all the Palestinian sites are
included in the building, and the Palestinians have a space where they can live united instead of
being scattered in the diaspora. The skyscraper, or vertical solution, thus does not involve all the
issues of a horizontal state, such as the spreading of Israeli settlements, separation walls, and
checkpoints.236 However, the bene ts and luxury of Nation Estate are only a smoke screen for the
dystopian world.

The dystopian character of Nation Estate can be seen in the concept as well as in the
visuals of the lm. Some of the Palestinian features, such as the food, the olive tree and the
building itself include signs of a dystopian world: the walls in the apartment are showing cracks,
the food is heated but not eaten, and the tree is alienated from its natural habitat /(just as the
inhabitants of Nation Estate). Moreover, the protagonist and the other characters are dressed in
the same kind of uniforms. These uniforms can be considered a dystopian characteristic, as it
refers to Sci-Fi tropes that represent a fascist or oppressed state.237 The concept of the short lm,
in an almost cynical way, presents a ‘two-state’ solution, in which Palestine is housed in the
skyscraper that overlooks the city of Jerusalem. According to Sansour, Nation Estate was based
on the experience of Palestinian inhabitants of Jerusalem, that were removed from their home,
and exiled to living on a hill that has a view on Jerusalem, making them watch the settlers who
were living in their home.238 This is also the case for the inhabitants of the Nation Estate
skyscraper. Furthermore, the Palestinian sites that are incorporated in the building are simulated
versions of the actual sites. In this way, Nation Estate again alludes to the idea of being close, yet
out of reach.

Sansour created Nation Estate as an ironic take on the Palestinian question: the only way
to receive the right to self-determination and be granted a nation-state is if it occupies the least
space as possible, and is thus built vertically.239 Sansour, moreover, claims that the verticality of
the building is a reference to the restriction of movement Palestinians experience through
checkpoints and permits.240 In the Nation Estate tower, travel seems to facilitated and promoted,

235 LARISSA SANSOUR WEBSITE, ‘NATION ESTATE’.

236 Hochberg 2018, p. 42.

237 Ibid., p. 36.

238 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, pp. 125-126.

239 Ibidem.

240 Ibidem.
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but it remains vertical or underground. Furthermore, the skyscraper is still surrounded by the
Israeli wall, meaning the sense of freedom within the tower is a dystopian illusion.

Nation Estate can be considered as a critical dystopia according to the de nition of

Baccolini and Moylan. They de ne the critical dystopia as something that might happen in the
future, but has not yet and can simultaneously be considered as a social critique on society and a
warning.241 With Nation Estate, Sansour presents a possible outcome for the Palestinians, namely
the dislocation of the Palestinians from their homeland, i.e. in a luxurious skyscraper, or in the
existing refugee camps. Nation Estate ironically presents a future image of Palestine that is based
on the two-state solution that is often addressed during debates and in the media: if Israel and
Palestine are not able to agree on a two-state solution horizontally, it can be done vertically, in a
way that Palestine does not take up a lot of land. It also expresses a critique on the two-state
solution: even if it were to be possible, Palestine would pull the short straw. The critical dystopia
contains a utopian impulse within the work, which is often integrated through an open end in the
story that evokes a sense of hope.242 Moreover, the critical dystopia is more concerned with
collective identity and can therefore be applied to Nation Estate as it concerns the Palestinian
identity.243 The element of utopian hope is present in the nal scenes of the work when it is
revealed that the protagonist is pregnant, which suggests a continuity of the story and leaves the
work with an open end: what will happen to the future generation? This simultaneously raises a
sense of anxiety, that is expressed in the heavy breathing of the protagonist, because what if the
future generation is born into this dystopian reality? Besides the fact that dystopian works are
inherently focused on a future world, the pregnancy can thus be seen as a reference to the future.

Still from Larissa Sansour, NATION ESTATE (2012), Sansour waters her olive tree.

241 Baccolini & Moylan 2003, p. 5.

242 Ibid. 7.

243 Baccolini 2004, p. 251.

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 3.3 In the Future They Ate From the Finest Porcelain (2016)
In the Future They Ate From the Finest Porcelain244 is centred around a conversation between a
resistance leader and a psychiatrist, who discuss the dream of the resistance leader, the aim of
her work, and the death of her sister during her childhood. The images that are shown during the
conversation presumably resemble the dream of the resistance leader, who dreams about
porcelain raining from the sky on the desert ground. The dream is a reference to her work in the
resistance group who counterfeit materials for future archaeologists to nd. The carbon dating of
the archaeological materials is manipulated so that the material, mostly porcelain crockery, can be
traced back to the existence of an ancient, but ctional, civilisation. In this way, the resistance
group aims to in uence the visibility of this civilisation in history, and hereby supporting future
claims to their land and creating a de facto nation. The death of the resistance leader’s sister also
plays an important role throughout the lm. The resistance leader is confronted with this event
that recurs in her subconscious. The death of her sister represents the many Palestinian victims
by Israeli army attacks, among which are often children. The resistance leader mentions that her
sister was killed by an accident and states that “it’s what we are as a whole that quali es us as
targets”, meaning that Palestine was targeted rather than her sister as an individual. This erasure
of Palestinian people is what motivates the resistance to counterfeit archeological materials in
order to provide evidence for the existence of Palestinians. Without directly referring to Palestine,
Sansour portrays the struggle of the Palestinian cause against disappearance and invisibility.

In the Future is Sansour’s rst Science Fiction essay- lm containing dialogue. In contrast
to the two aforementioned works, it is the dialogue instead of the visual symbolism that includes
many important references to the in/visibility of Palestinians and the futurist alternative use of
time. This short lm refers to the aesthetics of in/visibility in a very direct manner. First, the death
of the sister resembles the Palestinian struggle with invisibility and the fear for erasure. This fear is
central in In the Future; not just the fear of erasure of the people but also of the culture. This
apprehension induces the resistance to forge archeological evidence of a certain civilisation,
which is an act against the invisibility of said civilisation. Whereas the psychiatrist considers these
acts as contributing to a myth, the resistance leader asserts that “myth not only creates fact, it
also generates identi cation.” She furthermore states that “these facts will con rm the existence
of this people we are positing.” These quotations can be seen as an argument for the signi cance
of Science Fiction for the aesthetics of in/visibility. If myth (Science Fiction) generates fact and
identi cation, it generates existence and visibility.

The psychiatrist then adds “and in turn support any descendants claims to the land, de
facto creating a nation”, referring to the invisibility of the Palestinians that is often used as an
excuse against self-determination. However, the psychiatrist suggests that real evidence
(archaeological material) would be more legitimate, to which the resistance leader responses that
“it was never a question of legitimacy. Our rulers have long since removed us from their equation.
I’m adding new numbers, messing with their maths.” Along these lines, Hochberg argues that In

244 Hereafter abbreviated as In the Future.

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 The Future can be read as a critique on the signi cance that is assigned to archaeological
material when it comes to national imagination, and thus a critique on the Zionist claim for the
historical rights of Jews to settle in Palestine.245 In the Zionist state, the claim and right for self-
determination depends heavily on archaeological ‘evidence’ (based on biblical stories) that
justi es the return of the Jews to the Holy Land.246 Accordingly, the resistance leader states: “This
ction is already imposed upon us” and “You just replace one myth with another” referring to the
justi cation of settler colonialism in Palestine. Hochberg addresses Sansour’s use of Christian
iconography in the lm to support her argument. The lm features several Christian references,
such as the image of the Last Supper, porcelain falling from the sky (a metaphor for a plague), and
frogs falling from the sky (one of the actual seven plagues). Hochberg claims that In the Future is
an ironic take on the idea of archaeology as a national archive.247 She de nes archaeology and
the act of archiving as traces (evidence) of the past coming alive in the present.248 According to
Hochberg, it is the basis for national imagination and thus nation-building.249

Still from Larissa Sansour, IN THE FUTURE THEY ATE FROM THE FINEST PORCELAIN (2016), an image from the lm depicting orientalist gures,
the resistance leader, and porcelain that is being dropped from the sky.

245 Hochberg 2021, p. 34.

246 Ibid., p. 82

247 Ibid., p. 85.

248 Ibidem.

249 Ibidem.
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 In the Future furthermore contains several references to the alternative use of time, starting
with the paradoxic title. The resistance leader considers the act of counterfeiting archaeological
material as “communicating with the past and the future.” This shows the references to the past,
which is the association with archaeological material, and the future, which has a signi cant role
as the archaeological material will be found in the future, hence the paradoxic title “In the Future,
They Ate”. Moreover, when addressing the forged archaeological crockery, the resistance leader
notes that “our actions are historical interventions. I’m trespassing in the catacombs of the past
tagging each wall on my way.” The psychiatrist then states “You’re suggesting that ction has a
constitutive e ect on history and political reality.” These phrases can be applied to futurist and
Science Fiction work. In a sense, A Space Exodus can be seen as a historical intervention and the
constitutive e ect on history and political reality is in line with the aim of futurist work. The
resistance leader furthermore struggles with living in the present, considering she is mainly
concerned with either the past, by dreaming of her sister, or with the future by counterfeiting
archeological materials.

Hochberg addresses the alternative use of time by arguing that In the Future
“understands the present and future in relation to a lost (and later found) past.”250 The purpose of
archaeology is the “reappearance of the past in the present and the past given back to the
present” but in this case also the reappearance of the past in the future (In the Future They Ate).251
To cite Hochberg, it is a “present pregnant with the past.”252 She furthermore states that by
counterfeiting archaeological material, the resistance leader tries to undo the temporal
relationship between past, present, and future.253 The alternative use of time is seen in the visual
narration in the lm: characters dressed in traditional Palestinian clothes are juxtaposed with the
futurist military aircrafts. Lastly, in this short lm Sansour alternates the concept of time by
suggesting a time-loop at the end of the lm when the dialogue starts from the beginning.

The three works discussed thus far are often discussed as a trilogy. Firstly, in A Space Exodus the
protagonist visits the moon to determine if the moon would be inhabitable for the Palestinian
population. When the moon seems un t, Palestine is housed in a large skyscraper called Nation
Estate. Then, the protagonist joins the resistance and works on forging archeological material, in
order to strengthen future claims on an independent Palestine. All three works relate in a strong
sense to the Zionist sentence “a land without a people for a people without a land.” A Space
Exodus by colonising the unpopulated moon and In the Future by featuring a resistance group
that is counterfeiting archeological evidence of a civilisation in a land without a people. The
installation of Nation Estate includes a poster that advertises living in the skyscraper: “Nation
Estate: living the high life.” This poster is a reference to an actual poster used in a Zionist

250 Hochberg 2021, p. 73.

251 Ibidem.

252 Ibid., p. 74.

253 Ibid., p. 78.

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 campaign in 1936 to attract Jewish people to the Palestinian region that eventually evolved in al-
Nakba.254 Instead of a design of the Palestinian landscape, the Nation Estate poster features the
skyscraper. All works include symbols that refer directly to a Palestinian presence. Especially A
Space Exodus and Nation Estate rely heavily on visual modes of expression by including direct
references to Palestine, such as the Palestinian ag. In In the Future, these visual modes of
expression start to become more abstract and indirect, while the textual mode of expression is
added.

Sansour’s most recent work, In Vitro, continues the double mode of narration while taking
on a more broad and pessimistic approach to the Palestinian question, compared to her earlier
work that often included light-hearted or humorous components. In Vitro is a continuation on the
previous Science Fiction trilogy, as it emphasises the interplay between history, documentary,
myth, and ction, that is especially evident in In the Future. Sansour continues to emphasise the
dialogue in her more recent work, but in In Vitro she has withdrawn as protagonist of the lm and
has switched to hiring an all-professional cast, which could be considered as a turn in her work. It
can even be argued that because of the release of In Vitro, one cannot speak of a trilogy.
According to Hochberg,

“the trilogy as a whole comes together through a focus on the questions: what does it
mean to think about Palestine in futuristic terms? What does it mean to imagine Palestine
in terms of a time-yet-to- come? How does such imagination change the very entity called
“Palestine”? And how might such changes a ect how we think about the relationship
between the past and future, history and ction, hope and despair, utopia and
dystopia?”255

The following section will explain if and/or how In Vitro shows a di erent tendency in Sansour’s
oeuvre. The analysis of In Vitro will elaborate on the di erent approach Sansour has taken with
this work, but will also show how it is a continuation of her previous work.


254 Baash 2018, p. 42.

255 Hochberg 2018, pp. 38-39.

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3.4 In Vitro (2019)

Watching the streets of Bethlehem, the viewer is approached by a ood of black oil that rushes
through the streets, destroying all that comes in its path. The essay- lm In Vitro opens with a
catastrophic eco-disaster. Similar to In the Future, the lm is situated around a conversation
between a younger woman, Alia, and an older woman, Dunia, that is taking place 30 years after
the catastrophe. Alia is seen moving around a building that appears to be a bunker, while Dunia is
laying sick in a hospital bed. The conversation starts by discussing the current condition of the
outside world, contemplating when to start rebuilding the civilisation. Alia is a clone of Dunia’s
deceased daughter and she is implanted with not only her but also collective memories of a pre-
apocalyptic Bethlehem and the accompanying feelings of grief and nostalgia. Alia is haunted by
these programmed memories that are shown through ashbacks of Dunia and her daughter, and
archival footage of Bethlehem. The conversation intensi es when Alia addresses the feelings of
alienation she experiences due to these unfamiliar memories and feelings of nostalgia and the two
women enter a debate on the value of memory and the past after a catastrophic event. Meanwhile
the conversation is interrupted by images of Alia’s arti cial memories, consisting of the memories
of Dunia’s daughter with her mother and collective memories of a pre-catastrophe Bethlehem.
Dunia is clinging to her memories of the past, and aspires this past to be rebuild once the above
ground world is recovered. She is one of the scientists that created the “heirloom children”, the
clones including Alia, seeking to preserve the loss of memories and heritage along with the loss of
living above the ground and the victims of the apocalypse. Alia is experiencing di culties with
these implanted memories. In presumably one of the last conversations between Alia and Dunia
on her deathbed, Dunia tries to make sense of the glitches in Alia’s mind.

For the rst time, Sansour’s work explores the Palestinian question and dystopia in the
wider context of climate and eco-disasters. This futurist approach illustrates how Science Fiction
enables artists to address the same issues through di erent contexts. Sansour states that in
Science Fiction apocalyptic tropes, such as the eco-disaster in In Vitro, refer to the idea of a clean
slate or tabula rasa that clears the path for new structures or systems to emerge.256 She continues
by arguing that a disaster of climate change represents the most imminent but also accurate
threat to the contemporary civilisation, which makes it a relatable subject for her work.257 With this
statement, Sansour advocates for the signi cance of the use of Science Fiction, however, it does
need a sense of realism and relatability in order to contribute to the concept of the work. The
climate dystopia is the basis for a debate on memory, nostalgia, and intergenerational, personal
and collective trauma. The climate dystopia thus provides a di erent perspective on the
Palestinian cause, that is still a signi cant part of this work. The more general issue of climate
disaster, which relates to a larger audience, is used to mirror the Palestinian cause. By exploring
the more generally recognised issue of climatological disasters, Sansour seeks to create an

256 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 62.

257 Ibidem.
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 abstract idea of exodus.258 In the words of Dunia: “not just this exodus, but every exodus before.”
The term exodus has already been discussed in the analysis of A Space Exodus, and is in In Vitro
used again to allude to Palestinian trauma. Sansour states that a collective identity that is based
on trauma, in the case of In Vitro by the eco-disaster, corresponds so closely to the Palestinian
identity that it is di cult to exclude this aspect from the work.259 She notes that in her earlier
Science Fiction work, she has explored themes of collective and personal loss, cultural erasure,
and the e ects of trauma on national identity, and that this framework is continued in In Vitro
whilst adding the notion of the climate dystopia.260

In Vitro combines the general issue of climate disasters with local Palestinian factors.
According to Hochberg, the climate dystopia ts into the current fascination with dystopic
imagination that is induced by globally shared environmental planetary concerns.261 The living
conditions in In Vitro imitate the Palestinian situation, as life underground in the bunker is cut o
from Palestinian heritage, but it is also free from barriers, and checkpoints similar to the
skyscraper in Nation Estate. The bunker can be seen as a metaphor to the life in exile in
Palestinian refugee camps. The short lm shows the implications of a climate catastrophe on the
landscape of the Palestinian region and its agriculture. 262 Not only a new generation is cloned,
but the bunker is lled with traces of research into how to regrow vegetation. Landscape is often a
recurring trope in cinema of dislocated people. The destruction of Palestinian landscape and
agriculture can be seen as a reference to the attacks by the Israeli military on the farmlands in
Gaza that are sprayed with toxic herbicides.263 Palestine is furthermore visible in Alia’s ashbacks
that show archival footage of Bethlehem before the Naksa and images of people leaving the city
after Naksa.264 These images represent not only the the collective memory of the survivors of the
Naksa but also of the eco-disaster.265 As Dunia notes “Disasters evolve more rapidly here. This
place was always charged.” Hereby she hints towards the question if In Vitro addresses multiple
disasters.

When looking into the all-erasing e ects of a climate disaster, the focus of the lm shifted
from the ecological to the psychological implications and trauma that are caused by such
events.266 The research then directed itself towards the eld of epigenetics and intergenerational

258 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 113.

259 Ibid., p. 112.

260 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 59.

261 Hochberg 2018, p. 35.

262 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 66.

263 Berger 2019.

264 Muller 2019a, p. 13.

The archival footage was sorted from the archives of the Imperial War Museum, British Pathé, and the United Nations Relief and
265

Works Agency. In: Downey 2019, p. 70.

266 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 69.

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 trauma.267 Epigenetics is the study into how external factors such as behaviour and environment
can a ect one’s genes in a reversible way.268 From this eld originate theories on intergenerational
trauma that indicate that trauma can become part of one’s genetics and as a result can be
inherited by future generations. Sansour states that the psychological implications by an all-
erasing catastrophe, either by an eco-disaster or by settler colonialism, is the primary theme of
the lm.269 Instead of positioning this issue solely in the context of Palestine, Sansour explores
how national trauma develops in terms of environmental disasters.270

Similar to Nation Estate, In Vitro portrays a dystopian future. But even though In Vitro in
many ways can be seen as a continuation of the earlier Sci-Fi trilogy, it also di ers as for the rst
time, the imagined dystopian world seems to be without hope. As was discussed in the analysis
of Nation Estate, the work could be related to the genre of the critical dystopia. A signi cant
element in that analysis was the presence of a sense of hope throughout the lm. In Vitro, even
though open-ended as well, evokes a strong feeling of pessimism, and no sense of hope. The
discussion between Dunia and Alia remains unsolved. Muller argues the pessimist approach is in
line with current political developments in both Palestine as globally, including the attitude
towards climate change and disasters.271 In this sense, In Vitro shows similarities to what Justin
Louis Mann has de ned as ‘Pessimistic Futurism.’272 This kind of Futurism retains a pessimistic
view on the present, while creating space to imagine a radically di erent future.273 Perhaps a
future that starts from a tabula rasa? In Vitro furthermore contains some characteristics of the
concrete dystopia. It is partly based on a dystopian historical reality, al-Nakba, that has left a
legacy of collective trauma. Sansour combined this concept of the concrete dystopia of looking
backwards (as seen in Dunia) with a potential future eco-disaster, and looking to the future (as is
seen in Alia).

Aesthetics of in/visibility
In Vitro covers both direct as indirect indications of the concept of in/visibility. The main theme of
the lm, the consequences of an all-erasing event, refers to the notion of invisibility. Not only the
signi cant Palestinian site Bethlehem is destroyed, it is also mentioned that due to the
catastrophe, an entire generation was lost, i.e. erased. On a more abstract level, the aesthetics of
in/visibility are present in the dialogue between Dunia and Alia on memory, remembering, and
forgetting. Remembering (visibility) and forgetting (invisibility) are important characteristics in the
aesthetics of in/visibility in Palestinian cinema and in Science Fiction as well. Moreover, these

267 Ibidem.

268 CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION WEBSITE 2022.

269 Sansour interviewed by Anthony Downey, in: Downey 2019, p. 59.

270 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in Moore 2019, p. 113.

271 Muller 2019a, p. 7.

272 Mann 2018.

273 Ibid., p. 73.

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 concepts refer to the eld of archiving, which was noticed in Derrida’s concept of archive fever.
Derrida applied Freud’s theory on psychoanalysis, inside the mind, to the act of archiving, outside
the mind.274 In this way, he used characteristics of the human mind, such as forgetting and
remembering, to connect to the idea of archiving.275 He then de nes archive fever as not only a
desire to archive everything, but as a fear of not su ciently having collected enough and in that
way have not done justice to the dead.276 Derrida’s de nition of the archive and of archive fever is
evident in In Vitro and speci cally in the debate between Alia and Dunia.

Alia can be considered as a personi cation of the archive, whereas Dunia expresses clear
feelings of archive fever. In Alia’s arti cial mind, she preserves the memory and trauma of
generations. However, due to her feelings of alienation towards these memories (or data), she
experiences di culty with categorising the data and glitches in the system, or in other words, her
mind. In their dialogue, Alia and Dunia discuss other functions of the archive, in which Dunia
focuses on the act of preservation and Alia on deaccessioning materials. Central in their debate is
the de nition Hochberg has assigned to the archive: “an apparatus of selective remembering and
forgetting, preserving and destroying.”277 Dunia’s arguments relate to archive fever, as they focus
chie y on past events, that should be rebuild in the future. The generation of Dunia created actual
archives in the generations of Alia, which displays their devotion to archive. Moreover, this
generation was created to do justice to the lost generation, namely the generation of Dunia’s
daughter. With regard to In the Future, Sansour noted that: “I am intrigued by how our gaze
intervenes in the meaning of archives. It was important for me to tap into this idea of archival
interventions by turning still archival imagery into live motion.”278 This idea of archival intervention
can also be found in In Vitro considering Dunia’s generation created an arti cial archival
intervention by programming data in clones. The archival intervention in Alia’s mind can be
regarded as the creation of counter-memories. As discussed in chapter 2, counter-memories refer
to memory formation that is opposed to a hegemonic imperialist narrative. In the context of
Afrofuturism, the counter-memories are of a pre-colonial time. In Vitro shows ashes of memories
of a pre-apocalyptic time, which in the context of the lm can be considered as a pre-colonial
time.

Due to the alienation experienced by Alia that is caused by these unfamiliar memories and
feelings, she opposes Dunia’s reasoning since she rather focuses on living in the present and
rebuilding the land from a clean slate (the tabula rasa caused by the all-erasing event). In this way,
Alia agrees with Derrida’s commentary on archive fever who claimed that there is “No archive
without outside.”279 The all-erasing event can either refer to the ood of oil that is seen at the

274 Derrida 1995, p. 14.

275 Ibid., p. 11.

276 Ibid., p. 57.

277 Hochberg 2021, p. 21.

278 Sansour interviewed by Gil Hochberg, in: Hochberg 2021, p. 78.

279 Derrida 1995, p. 14.

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 beginning of the lm: it presumably has erased the city and ecosystem, causing people to life
exiled in a bunker. The future that Dunia focuses on is in that sense a future that never came into
being. The erasure could also allude to the erasure of Alia’s free will, being a clone, created to be
a living archive stuck in the past. The recurring black sphere in In Vitro can be seen as a metaphor
for her feelings towards the programmed archive in her mind. Sansour remarks that it represents
Alia’s psychological space, or the glitch in her programmed memories, something that
discomforts her.280 Whereas in the lm the black sphere is a metaphor, for the exhibition
installation an actual black sphere was created. This can be seen as a hint to visibility versus
invisibility.

Alternative Time
The personi cation of the archive is both an allusion to the aesthetics of in/visibility and to the
futurist alternative use of time. The focus on memory already implicates a focus on the past. The
emphasis on the past is in magical realist and futurist work often expressed by articulating and
imagining a pre-colonial world.281 In In Vitro Dunia expresses feelings of nostalgia to a pre-
apocalyptic world. However, with the juxtaposition of Palestinian factors, such as the landscape,
the monuments, and the archival footage of pre-Nakba Bethlehem, it can be argued that a pre-
apocalyptic world is juxtaposed to a pre-colonial world. Muller relates this juxtaposition to an
interplay of time: the catastrophe of al-Nakba in the past and a ctive ecological catastrophe in
the (speculative) future.282 This causes In Vitro to take place in a confusing temporality. Moreover,
the lm is dominated by an overlap in time in which the past as a memory co-exists within the
present and a future responsibility with which Alia is burdened. As a result, past, present, and
future collapse in In Vitro. Whereas Dunia feels connected to the pre-apocalyptic world and aims
to rebuild this world in the future, Alia does not identify with her arti cial memories and the life
outside of the bunker. Her memories and feelings of nostalgia evoke a sense of alienation, and an
inherent feeling of wanting to life in the present and look forward.

The short lm is constructed around this intergenerational con ict between Dunia and Alia.
The two protagonists represent two di erent generations and two perspectives on the future.
Without coincidence, Sansour has chosen the names for the protagonists carefully. In Arabic the
name Dunia can be translated as “of the temporal world”283, whereas Alia means “high sublime,
exalted.”284 In the context of In Vitro, Dunia represents a temporary and disappearing generation,
and the generation of clones of which Alia is part of, is regarded as a superior creation. The
generation of Dunia is familiar with and longs for the pre-apocalyptic world, and the generation of
Alia, who is born in the bunker, is expected to rebuild the for her unfamiliar pre-apocalyptic world.

280 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 119.

281 Nayar 2015, p. 107; Parikka 2018, p. 42.

282 Muller 2019a, p. 11.

283This translation is only correct in the context of the Islamic religion, in which “Dunia” refers to life on earth, which is regarded as
temporary in comparison to the afterlife that is eternal.

284 Moore 2019, p. 126.

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 In their argument, Dunia is extremely focused on rebuilding this past in the future that is to be
achieved through the programmed memories in the generation of clones. However, Alia considers
the historical baggage as a hindrance in shaping a more viable future. This raises questions on
what is the most viable solution for reshaping a future? For Dunia, it is the memories of a pre-
apocalyptic world, for Alia, it are new structures, and systems building on the clean slate created
by the eco-disaster. In this way, Dunia clings to the future-that-never-became, the future that
would have been build on a pre-apocalyptic or pre-colonial world. Muller states that for Dunia, her
home is in the past, and for Alia, it is in the future (and perhaps a di erent location).285 Dunia’s
considerations are along the line of the generation that knew Palestine pre-Nakba (a shrinking
generation), such as Edward Said. He stated that “An intellectual must try to restore memory,
restore some sense of the landscapes of destruction.”286

Still from Larissa Sansour, IN VITRO (2019), Dunia and Alia are arguing.

The experience of Alia can be compared to the younger generation of Palestinians living
and born in exile or the diaspora, who have no memory of the homeland, only the memories and
trauma of their parents. In the context of In Vitro, this generation is burdened by the futures-that-
never-became, whereas they might have a di erent perspective towards the future. The criticism
of Alia towards Dunia can be seen as a representation of the diverging experiences between
di erent generations of Palestinians. It is also no coincidence that Sansour refers to the
apocalyptic eco-disaster in In Vitro as a tabula rasa that allows new systems and structures to
emerge. Perhaps this is Sansour’s way of criticising the responsibility of an inheritance of

285 Muller 2019a, p. 10.

286 Said interviewed by Joan Smith, in: SMITH 2001.

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 memories, trauma, and nostalgia a younger generation is burdened with. She states that she tried
to address the issue of an intergenerational con ict and question on Palestinian identity,
preservation, and the future, without loosing sensitivity to older Palestinian generations.287 The
purpose of the lm is to address the Palestinian identity and culture in the past, present, and
future with regard to the concepts of erasure and preservation of culture.

In comparison to the aforementioned Science Fiction lms, in In Vitro Sansour employs the global
phenomenon of climate disasters to address the Palestinian question. In other words, she took a
context a larger audience can relate to in which she integrated the Palestinian question as well. All
Science Fiction lms show similarities as they are made according to the aesthetics of the futurist
genre. Muller describes the use of past, present, and future in the work of Sansour as a blur of
temporalities in which the “impossibilities of the past and present nd a way into possibilities and
alternatives in the future.”288 However, none of the alternative futures presented by Sansour seem
to be an attractive solution. It can be argued that in In Vitro Sansour exploited the alternative use
of time by creating a confusing temporality in which the di erent layers of time overlap. She
furthermore complements her take on the Palestinian question by not only critically addressing
the geopolitical context of Palestine but also how this issue a ects di erent generations. In this
way, she represents a new perspective of a generation that di ers from the legacies of older
generations and their cinematic practices.

In Vitro contains many references to In The Future, which raises questions in how far the
previous three works can actually be considered as a separate trilogy from In Vitro. Similar to In
the Future, In Vitro relies less on visual modes of expression and more on the textual mode of
expression through dialogue. The visual symbolism becomes less clear by not exploiting the
obvious nationalist symbols, such as ags or other cultural expressions. However, the material
reality of Palestine is present in the imagery of Bethlehem and the visualisation of indigenous
vegetation. Both In the Future and In Vitro can be considered as essay- lms and are situated
around a dialogue between two female protagonists. Moreover, both dialogues comprehend two
competing narratives: in In the Future features on the one hand the resistance leader and on the
other the psychiatrist, and in In Vitro between Dunia and Alia. Sansour implemented a split-screen
in the lm, and a two-screens installation in the exhibition, to visualise and emphasise the
contrasting elements in In Vitro: the two generations, past and future, and life above the ground
(pre-apocalypse) against life underground in the bunker.289 The opposing perspectives of Alia and
Dunia, in which past, present, and future overlap and intertwine, allow Sansour to experiment with
the futurist concept of the alternative use of time more than in the previous works.

Furthermore, both lms refer to the act of archiving. The concept of the archive in In Vitro
has been discussed thoroughly, but the presence of archaeology in In the Future can also be seen

287 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, pp. 127-128.

288 Muller 2019a, p. 14.

289 Sansour interviewed by Lindsey Moore, in: Moore 2019, p. 124.

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as a reference to the archive. In that sense, both lms relate strongly to the concept of archival
intervention: In Vitro’s connection to counter-memories invoke the idea of archival intervention and
In the Future alludes to archival intervention by intervening with the carbon dating of archeological
material. Hochberg describes archaeology as a materialisation of the archive and an imagination
of materiality.290 She considers archaeology as “the most important underlying archive of a nation
and a people.”291 Hochberg regards both archive (or archaeology) and psychoanalysis as “the
commitment to collect information from/about the past— to ‘dig out’ parts of the past that are
otherwise in danger of escaping memory and hence of disappearing altogether.”292 It is interesting
to see how psychoanalysis and archiving are combined as well as in Derrida’s concept of archive
fever as in the lms In the Future and In Vitro. Due to the assigned value to archaeology and
archiving with regard to nation-building, these are particularly interesting in the Palestinian case.

As was explained in the analysis of In the Future, Hochberg considers the lm as a critique
on this aspect of archaeology as evidence for nation-building. This critique is further elaborated in
In Vitro. Alia refers to her programmed memories as “just fairy tales” to which Dunia answers that
“Entire nations are built on fairy tales.” In this way, Sansour critiques the creation of the Zionist
state that was based on this kind of evidence. Another direct reference to In the Future can be
found in Alia’s criticism on Dunia, who is mainly concerned with the past (pre-catastrophe) and
rebuilding that past image in the future. Alia contends that “I despise the idea of the present as
nothing but a void. A transition between what was and what’s to come”, which is exactly the
focus of the resistance leader.

When comparing In Vitro to the earlier work Nation Estate, it illustrates the futurist concept
of addressing the same issue in di erent contexts. Both short- lms employ the concept of a
vertical space: Nation Estate through the skyscraper, and In Vitro through the above-and
underground parallel.293 The vertical space also illustrates the impression of the protagonists living
simultaneously in exile and in the homeland. As a result, they are geographically close, but in
reality far from living in freedom in Palestine.

290 Hochberg 2021, p. 33.

291 Ibidem.

292 Ibid., p. 74.

293 Moore 2019, p. 125.

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 Conclusion

The dichotomy between visibility and invisibility of Palestine and Palestinians has been a recurring
concept in Palestinian cinema as early as the 1930s, which I have described as the aesthetics of
in/visibility. Following the time periods established by Gertz and Khlei , the aesthetics of in/
visibility has marked Palestinian cinema throughout these decades. The cinema of Palestinian
lmmakers has invoked the aesthetics of in/visibility by aiming to create visibility by representing a
Palestinian perspective in a Western European and North American dominated narrative. This was
done either by individual lmmakers ( rst and fourth era) or through commissioned work of
Palestinian nationalist institutions (in the third era). The second era was completely marked by
invisibility considering there were almost no cinematic productions due to political oppression and
war during this period. The fourth era of Palestinian cinema included a turn in Palestinian
lmmaking from representing the collective experience of Palestine towards individual
experiences of Palestinian lmmakers. In this period, lmmakers also slowly turned away from the
documentary genre and began to experience with semi-documentary and ctive lm. Sansour’s
early lmmaking draws from these legacies of the fourth period. In the same sense, her work
seeks to contribute to creating visibility for the Palestinian cause within a documentary genre. She
furthermore addresses the issue with invisibility experienced by many Palestinians by centralising
her family’s and her own experiences and standpoints in her work. She continued this approach
whilst slowly experimenting with ctionalised spaces as well.

Whereas most overviews of Palestinian cinema end with the researching and analysing the
surplus on documentary lm that invokes the aesthetics of in/visibility. This paper has sought to
extend this framework by exploring the possibilities that the genre of Science Fiction provides for
Sansour to address the same paradoxes, by stating the following research question: How do
Larissa Sansour’s Science Fiction short lms invoke the political and material reality of Palestine?
The overview of the aesthetics of in/visibility has described the political and material reality in
documentary lmmaking, which has provided an understanding of the roots of Sansour’s work.
The turn towards Science ction has raised questions on its signi cance for Palestinian national
cinema, considering it contradicts the documentary genre that aims to represent certain realities
in a non- ctional manner.

The turn towards a genre that is ctive and enables to imagine di erent narratives, stories,
and worlds in an alternative set of times can seem to be a tremendous shift. In this thesis, I have
argued that strategies from the genre of Science Fiction and Futurisms are particularly interesting
in the case of Palestine, considering it enables artists and lmmakers to create counter-memories
and to imagine alternative pasts, presents, and futures. In this sense, Science Fiction opposes the
issue with invisibility, considering it can represent Palestine not just in the present, as is done in
documentaries but also retroactively in the past and proleptically in the future. In the case of
Palestine, this means that this genre allows to write actual memories into existence, that might
have been subject to erasure due to the occupation. The genre of Futurism arose from several
post-colonial approaches in Science Fiction, inciting futurist artists and lmmakers to use Sci-Fi
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tropes to reclaim a pre-colonial narrative. The futurist aspect of employing an alternative time
enables artists and lmmakers to address a recurring issue in di erent contexts. Sansour herself
favours the Science Fiction genre because it allows her to address certain issues in the political
situation in Palestine in a liberating manner. By employing sub-genres as the dystopia, she is able
to criticise the situation in Palestine whilst also making a case for its visibility. Futurist or Sci-Fi
approaches thus allow artists and lmmakers to rethink the past (hereby recreating or rewriting
the past in their narrative), criticise the present, and reshape the future (one that is unsure).

As was shown in the analysis of Sansour’s Science Fiction short lms, she invokes the
political reality, i.e. the political absence, through the futurist concept of repeatedly addressing the
political situation in Palestine in di erent contexts. One of these recurring issues in the context of
Palestine is the appropriation of the phrase “a land without a people for a people without a land”,
which was used as an excuse to displace Palestinians from their homeland. This is often
supported by the idea of “being close, yet far”: being on the moon but not able to inhabit it (A
Space Exodus), having a view on the skyline of Jerusalem and a simulation of Jerusalem in your
luxurious apartment building but not able to travel to the actual Jerusalem (Nation Estate), close
yet far of creating a recognised state (In the Future), and living exiled in a bunker (In Vitro). It
appropriates the case for many Palestinian people: close to the homeland, yet far being displaced
in refugee-camps. And the case for Palestine: far from a sovereign state. However, none of the
alternative futures presented by Sansour, seem to be an attractive solution for the Palestinian
issue. By addressing the material and political reality in a dystopian manner, Sansour exposes the
rather complicated and dynamic character of the aesthetics of in/visibility.

Sansour’s rst Sci-Fi short lms rely heavily on the visual mode of expression, that secures
the visibility of Palestine through the appearance of symbols of the Palestinian culture. In her more
recent work, she employs a double mode of expression, in which the presence of Palestine
becomes less direct and more indirectly referenced in the dialogue. Furthermore, in In Vitro,
Sansour wraps the Palestinian cause in a layer of climate dystopia, a thread that is globally
shared. In this way, she integrates the Palestinian question in a larger context of climate disaster
which a larger audience can relate to. In In Vitro, Sansour proposes a clean slate, a tabula rasa on
which a future can be build, instead of clinging to past memories. She represents a new
perspective of a generation that di ers from the legacies of older generations and their cinematic
practices. This idea is the core of the argument between protagonists Alia and Dunia, who both
represent a di erent generation. The opposing perspectives of Alia and Dunia, in which past,
present, and future overlap and intertwine, has allowed Sansour to experiment with the futurist
concept of the alternative use of time more than in the previous works.

This thesis has attempted to complement existing overviews of Palestinian cinema and to
strengthen the cinema as one of national allure, by broadening the scope of genres with Science
Fiction. In light of the critiques by Rastegar, Schmitz, and Demos, the thesis has tried to oppose
the image one-sidedness of Palestinian cinema. Moreover, it has become clear that art can be a
valuable tool to address political issues which Palestine faces in ways that academic discourse or
news outlets can not. The Science Fiction work of Sansour can contradict the image fatigue

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 surrounding the Palestinian cause, by providing di erent and variable contexts. In this way, art
can thus contribute to raising and reviving support for Palestine, which is still necessary
considering the recent events at documenta that have been discussed in the introduction. To
conclude, the allure in employing Science Fiction to address these issues can be understood in
the context of In the Future They Ate from the Finest Porcelain: “myth not only creates fact, it also
generates identi cation.” I have argued that if myth (Science Fiction) generates fact and
identi cation, it generates existence and visibility. And if myth creates fact, than invisibility has
created visibility, and in this way: absence has created presence.

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