Our first look at Zain El Hajj (Zain Al Rafeea) comes as he is being examined by a doctor, who determines that he is roughly twelve years of age. We learn that Zain's parents, Souad (Kawthar Al Haddad) and Selim (Fadi Kamel Youssef), cannot provide this information as they have no documents for him or his numerous siblings. Zain is being examined as part of a judicial action - having recently been convicted of a serious crime and sent to prison, he wants to sue his parents for having birthed him in the first place.
"Capernaum" is a snapshot of a bleak childhood spent in misery and poverty. Zain's family is among the poorest of the poor in Beirut's slums. Zain runs errands for the landlord and helps in the petty grifts that his parents pull to keep the family afloat. Initially, he comes off as overly aggressive and mean, constantly badmouthing adults and throwing away gifts meant for his younger sister Sahar (Cedra Izam). However, his behavior helps to ensure his survival, in an environment where he's constantly under the threat of physical violence and suffers daily neglect. Everyone steals, cheats, and cons as much as they can get away with, and Zain is no different. However, he also proves to be fiercely loyal, generous, clever, and resourceful. And as his situation goes from bad to worse, he never stops fighting.
The performance by Zain Al Rafeea is fantastic, full of simmering resentment and frustration, but also moments of hope and even joy. The film could easily have come off feeling exploitative of these children and their plight, but it never does because Zain is such a willful personality whose decisions drive so much of the story. At one point he ends up under the care of an undocumented Ethiopean cleaner named Rahil (Yordanos Shiferaw), who has a toddler, Yonas (Boluwatife Treasure Bankole), who she hides the existence of. Zain becomes Yonas's surrogate parent, and its through his efforts to care for the baby that his strength and humanity really come through. There's such a physical element to their relationship that creates some of the film's most memorable visuals, as the skinny, pale Zain is often seen lugging around a black toddler who is nearly half the size that he is.
There is pointed social critique baked into the film, and it manages to address a wide variety of social ills through Zain's journey. Nearly all the characters are undocumented, for a variety of reasons. Some are caught in immigration limbo, and others have just fallen through the cracks. Desperation pushes the adults to put their children in harm's way, sometimes inadvertently. The cultural roots of some of these issues are targeted too. Zain explicitly pins the blame for his woes on his parents, for "having too many children they can't take care of." When confronted about the poor treatment, they claim that it was the way they were raised too, and they didn't know any better. As horrible as some of their actions are, it's impossible not to be sympathetic.
I found the commentary a little too on the nose, especially in the final act where the sequence of events and final resolution border on fantasy. However, it's a fantasy that offers some much-needed light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Director Nadine Labaki's previous films have been much more lighthearted, including "Where Do We Go Now?" a fable-like satire aimed at poking gentle fun at Middle-Eastern religious divides. In "Capernaum," the miseries of her characters are much more harrowing, their situation far truer to life. Zain El Hajj was a Syrian refugee when he was cast in the film, and Labaki reportedly interviewed hundreds of street children to prepare her script. Scenes were shot in real Beirut slums, jails, and court rooms.
And it was certainly worth all the effort. "Capernum" doesn't just show us the physical effects of poverty and social dysfunction, but a fair amount of the mental and social toll. By using a child's perspective, it's able to communicate its criticisms in a very direct fashion, and reframe many of the usual arguments. Zain's demands of his parents may not be reasonable, but neither are they selfish. And he serves as a good reminder of the responsibility that adults - and the society they built - owe to their offspring,
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