Adrama from the hand of Cherien Dabis, first released in 2009 but took its time negotiating the festival circuit before making it to Taiwan. That wait is worthwhile, for this excellent film finds a way of dealing with the thorny issue of immigration that manages to avoid the perils of heavy-handed preaching and bleak social realism.
The title of Amreeka is a play on the way some Palestinian immigrants pronounce America, their new home. It is a place that is both more and also very much less than they had often hoped for. The dangers of life in the Palestinian territories and the constant harassment at Israeli checkpoints are replaced by a world in which their status and identity have to be renegotiated at every step. Even among the most friendly of hosts, this can be a frustrating business.
The story centers on Muna Farah (Nisreen Faour) and her son Fadi, who win the opportunity to immigrate to the US in a lottery. Muna is not all that keen on leaving the home she loves, but Fadi, at the early stages of rebellious adolescence, is particularly vulnerable in an environment bubbling over with violence. An incident at a checkpoint when Fadi cracks smart at one of the troopers convinces her that getting out is the only way to ensure his safety.
Photo Courtesy of CatchPlay
On arrival in the US, Muna tells a rather confused immigration official that she is from “the Palestinian territory,” and when asked about her occupation, replies, “yes, we are occupied.” Such little snippets of dialogue, in this case between a nervous and anxiously cooperative immigrant and a bored and ignorant official are not only amusing, but also provide a wealth of implications that give this relatively light-hearted drama its depth.
Faour puts in a thoroughly engaging performance as Muna, an intelligent and proud woman constantly wrong-footed by an alien world that doesn’t work the way she expects. Not only can she not find a bank job, for which she is eminently qualified, but is worried by Fadi, whose rebelliousness is aggravated by taunts in school by students armed with jokes about Osama bin Laden and suicide bombers. The irony of the situation is made in a single-line revelation late in the film that the Farahs are not even Muslim, but Palestinian Christians.
Muna’s hesitant steps in the US are juxtaposed against the presence of her sister Raghda Halaby (played by the wonderful Hiam Abbass, who was so crucial to the success of The Visitor, Thomas McCarthy’s 2007 film about immigration). The Halaby’s have been in the US 15 years, but Raghda’s husband, a doctor, has found that after Sept. 11, 2001, his patients have been drifting away from his practice as anti-Arabism seeps into the national mood. Their easy confidence with all things American does not change the fact that they still feel the cold shoulder of a nation that has turned against them.
Photo Courtesy of CatchPlay
The good acting and taut script are the making of Amreeka. This is a film that might easily be criticized for being a little too upbeat, and its ending leaves a rosy afterglow that cynics might sneer at. But Amreeka has a belief in the fundamental goodness of human beings, and if this includes a whiff of romance between Muna and the principal of Fadi’s school, a Polish Jew, so be it.
The toughness of the challenge that faces Muna, especially her struggle with her own conception of self-respect and economic exigencies, is heartrending without ever being melodramatic. If some of the harsher realities of suffering and the ugliness of prejudice are not shown, they can still be felt thrumming with life in the background.
If one asks Taiwanese why house prices are so high or why the nation is so built up or why certain policies cannot be carried out, one common answer is that “Taiwan is too small.” This is actually true, though not in the way people think. The National Property Administration (NPA), responsible for tracking and managing the government’s real estate assets, maintains statistics on how much land the government owns. As of the end of last year, land for official use constituted 293,655 hectares, for public use 1,732,513 hectares, for non-public use 216,972 hectares and for state enterprises 34 hectares, yielding
The small platform at Duoliang Train Station in Taitung County’s Taimali Township (太麻里) served villagers from 1992 to 2006, but was eventually shut down due to lack of use. Just 10 years later, the abandoned train station had become widely known as the most beautiful station in Taiwan, and visitors were so frequent that the village had to start restricting traffic. Nowadays, Duoliang Village (多良) is known as a bit of a tourist trap, with a mandatory, albeit modest, admission fee of NT$10 giving access to a crowded lane of vendors with a mediocre view of the ocean and the trains
For many people, Bilingual Nation 2030 begins and ends in the classroom. Since the policy was launched in 2018, the debate has centered on students, teachers and the pressure placed on schools. Yet the policy was never solely about English education. The government’s official plan also calls for bilingualization in Taiwan’s government services, laws and regulations, and living environment. The goal is to make Taiwan more inclusive and accessible to international enterprises and talent and better prepared for global economic and trade conditions. After eight years, that grand vision is due for a pulse check. RULES THAT CAN BE READ For Harper Chen (陳虹宇), an adviser
Traditionally, indigenous people in Taiwan’s mountains practice swidden cultivation, or “slash and burn” agriculture, a practice common in human history. According to a 2016 research article in the International Journal of Environmental Sustainability, among the Atayal people, this began with a search for suitable forested slopeland. The trees are burnt for fertilizer and the land cleared of stones. The stones and wood are then piled up to make fences, while both dead and standing trees are retained on the plot. The fences are used to grow climbing crops like squash and beans. The plot itself supports farming for three years.