It Must Be Heaven

A modern Jacques Tati figure sips wine and witnesses an oddball scene: someone is stealing fruit from his neighbor, taking permission for granted. Yet every day he encroaches a little more, as if he’s actually the owner. Elia Suleiman embodies another silent version of himself, coming up with new subtle and elusive ways to portray Palestinian ghettoization. This time, his alter ego distances himself from his aching homeland, in search of homeliness: yet, Paris and New York will prove hostile and hollow. When faced against the inherent chaos of life, what else is there to do but sit back and stare in bemusement?