FALAFEL

Hey Bloggers!

Welcome back to Chebbi Unscripted, where we break down Arab cinema and uncover the more profound political and cultural messages embedded within. Today, we’re diving into a film that, despite its unassuming title, hints at the tense sociopolitical climates of a postbellum Lebanon—Falafel. Directed in 2006 by Michel Kammoun, though the film may not outright discuss these topics, the conditions in which these characters live and operate speak volumes and make this a riveting watch.

The movie follows the story of a young Lebanese man, You, on a very inauspicious night. The movie’s plot primarily centers around his attendance at a party and the events that took place therein that led him all across Lebanon. In the film, through Tou’s observations of the world around him, interactions with police and other characters, and the underground world, the film subtly but critically comments on Lebanon’s post-civil war society. Toufic’s night is plagued by tensions from the get-go—unspoken but palpable. Much like the perpetual uncertainties Lebanese youth face, every moment in the film seems tinged with the possibility of danger, the weight of war never too far off.

The film is set in Lebanon in the aftermath of its civil war. A conflict that stretched from 1975 to 1990 and left 150,000 dead, the war marked a turning point in Lebanon’s history. Lebanon’s rich tapestry of history makes it a melting pot for religious and cultural diversity, a country touched by both East and West, Muslims and Christians. Yet, it was this same diversity that caused the outbreak of war, as the injustices from their incumbent, Christian president, sparked outcry across the country. As the dust settled fifteen years later, the country emerged with a completely new political system – one which celebrated the diversity of the Lebanese people by having 2 Muslim and 1 Christian head of office, representing the religious breakdown in the society itself.

However, what came as a result of the country on top of political upheaval was corruption. As seen both in the movie and history, despite the war nominally being over, the streets were still far from safe – You witnessed a kidnapping and car theft, as well as being confronted by a man who is found out to be very well connected in Lebanese politics. The movie does a beautiful job highlighting the corruption across Lebanon, even in the aftermath of the war. In fact, as said by Jamil Mouawad, “the post-war system granted this elite a key position in state–society relations,” making the ruling class above ordinary civilians and able to get away with rude and morally gray behavior (Mouawad, 6). In the film, Tou is beaten up by a connected individual who claims that his car was hit, yet Tou’s inability to do anything to the man in response shows the lack of power the Lebanese commoner had in light of crippling corruption. The same can be seen when You goes to park his broken-down moped near the police station, as he is quickly harassed and dealt with unethically because of the police’s exemption from the law that they enforce.

Similar parallels cannot be drawn in America; lengthy systems of checks and balances prohibit many stay above the law knowingly. However, that is not to say that here in the US, those with power, money, and connections cannot get away with some questionable actions or receive lighter consequences for their actions. However, a parallel between the movie and American society is how the police both can get away with harassing citizens without being questioned. Much like how the guard at the station questioned You, police often pull people of color over without probable cause but by their badge. This problem is much more pervasive in a postbellum Lebanese civil war, though corruption exists in every branch of politics in every country.

The film captures the spirit of Beirut still grappling with the aftermath of its lengthy civil war. One of the key themes explored in Falafel is this sense of uncertainty. You see it in the way the characters interact, how Toufic’s friends approach life, and even in the backdrop of the streets at night, which are once lively and menacing. The war might have officially ended, but its shadow lingers in every scene. Kammoun subtly shows how the trauma of war doesn’t just disappear when the fighting stops—it becomes part of the fabric of daily life.

In a sense, Falafel asks what it means to be Lebanese after the war. How do you live a “normal” life in a country where normal has been fundamentally redefined? There’s a scene in which Toufic and his friends party with drinking and debauchery—a scene that feels almost sacred. The party is more than a way to have fun; it symbolizes their collective desire for simplicity, for life to return to something normal. Yet, even in that moment, the tension builds, showing how fragile this longing for normalcy is. Today, while Lebanon may not be in war as of this writing, Lebanon still lives with that fright that has plagued it for the last 49 years. As recently as 2006, “Much of fighting occurred…in areas heavily populated by civilians,” highlighting the fear that normal Lebanese civilians have suffered through for half a century even when not directly in conflict Johnson, 23). Falafel may not be a political thriller or a war film, but it rivetingly reflects on the aftermath of conflict and the psychological toll it takes on everyday people. It shows how culture and politics intersect unexpectedly and how even a seemingly uneventful night out can speak volumes about a country's history and future. If you haven’t, this movie is worth a watch.

What do you think about the film’s subtle exploration of post-war Lebanese identity? How does it compare to other Arab films that deal with the consequences of conflict? I’d love to hear your thoughts on how Falafel portrays the generational struggle of moving forward from war.