The Unseen Revolutionaries: A Cinematic Dialogue Across Time
There’s something profoundly moving about filmmakers who dare to capture the world not as it is, but as it could be—or as it should be. Personally, I think this is where the essence of Mohanad Yaqubi’s Revolutionaries Never Die lies. It’s not just a film about Jocelyne Saab; it’s a conversation between two artists separated by time, geography, and yet bound by a shared vision of resistance and hope. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Yaqubi, a Palestinian filmmaker whose own life mirrors Saab’s in haunting ways, uses cinema to bridge the gap between her legacy and our contemporary struggles.
A Legacy in Shadows
One thing that immediately stands out is how little we know about pioneers like Jocelyne Saab. Her work, spanning the tumultuous years of the 1970s and 1980s, documented revolutions, wars, and societal shifts with an eye that felt almost prophetic. Yet, as Yaqubi notes, her name often remains in the shadows, overshadowed by her male counterparts. From my perspective, this isn’t just a matter of historical oversight—it’s a symptom of a larger cultural bias. The male gaze dominates not just the camera lens but also the archives, the festivals, and the narratives we choose to remember.
What many people don’t realize is that Saab’s films were more than just documentaries; they were acts of defiance. Her 1982 film Beirut My City, where she stands calmly in front of her bombed-out home, is a testament to resilience. It’s a scene that Yaqubi, whose family’s house in Gaza met a similar fate in 2024, couldn’t help but connect with. If you take a step back and think about it, this parallel isn’t just coincidental—it’s symbolic. It speaks to the cyclical nature of violence and the enduring spirit of those who document it.
The Weight of Commitment
Yaqubi’s journey into Saab’s archive began as a restoration project, but it quickly became something much deeper. In my opinion, this transformation is what makes Revolutionaries Never Die so compelling. It’s not just a homage; it’s a reckoning. Yaqubi grapples with the question of what it means to be a committed filmmaker in an era of endless atrocities. How do you make art when the world feels like it’s falling apart?
A detail that I find especially interesting is Yaqubi’s reference to the Frankfurt School. He teaches his students about critical theory, about how ideologies enable violence, and yet he’s left wondering: How do we move forward? This raises a deeper question: Can cinema truly disrupt the repetition of history, or is it doomed to loop endlessly, like the images in his film?
Hope as a Revolutionary Act
What this really suggests is that hope, not despair, is the most revolutionary act of all. Saab’s work was marked by an unwavering optimism, even in the face of destruction. Yaqubi captures this beautifully, projecting her hope onto audiences today. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest times, the act of creation—of imagining a better world—is an act of resistance.
The title Revolutionaries Never Die isn’t just a nod to Saab’s legacy; it’s a manifesto. Yaqubi draws from a book of conversations about Palestinian revolutionary practices, emphasizing that the spirit of revolution must persist, even when the odds seem insurmountable. Personally, I think this is where the film transcends its subject matter. It’s not just about Saab or Yaqubi—it’s about all of us who refuse to let the past bury us.
The Eternal Filmmaker
Yaqubi concludes with an Arab proverb: You die three times—when you die, when you’re buried, and when nobody remembers you. Saab, he argues, is a revolutionary who defies even death itself. She’s remembered not just for her films but for her courage, her vision, and her refusal to be silenced.
If you ask me, this is the ultimate takeaway: Cinema, at its best, is a form of immortality. It’s a way to ensure that the stories of those who fought for a better world are never forgotten. Revolutionaries Never Die isn’t just a film—it’s a call to action, a reminder that the work of pioneers like Saab is far from over. And in a world that often feels like it’s looping back into chaos, that’s a message we desperately need to hear.
