There is an anecdote (veracity to be confirmed) about the Ottoman national poet Namık Kemal trying to register as a member of the British Library. On the form, for the "nationality" section he puts "Muslim." They don’t accept it. He puts "Ottoman" and again it is rejected. Finally, he writes "Turkish," and then the official is satisfied.

There is a central scene that reminded me of this anecdote in Maha Haj’s "Mediterranean Fever," which I managed to see at the Qumra program in Doha this March. When our leading character Waleed takes his son to the doctor, they decide to do the Mediterranean Fever test as a last attempt to understand what ails the poor child.

The replacement doctor is Russian, and they go through the patient form once again, in Hebrew, for we are in Haifa. To the question of "nationality," Waleed replies "Arab" ("Sajjil, ana Arabi!"). When the form asks for his religion, he refuses to give one. When the computer system insists on an entry to move forward, the exasperated Waleed says "Palestinian." The Russian is perplexed, but with his half bemused half bored face, our hero insists. Among other very complex and hard-hitting analogies in the film, this is one of the most important. Responding to the Israeli state’s practice of equating religion with nationality, Waleed subverts the Israeli practice and makes his own nationality a religion.

From the beginning, Waleed is presented as someone who doesn’t feel comfortable in his own skin. He is a writer who has writer’s block and who has taken time off from his day job to write his magnum opus. But the words refuse to come. We see him do chores around the house and respond poorly to his psychologist’s attempts to help him. And then, like in all good stories, a stranger comes to town to wake him out of his stupor. The stranger comes in the shape of a loud neighbor who further thwarts Waleed’s attempts at concentrating in front of the computer, with his loud dogs and music.

"Neighbor" is naturally a loaded word in Palestine, and when this neighbor comes and encroaches on our hero’s personal space – in this case his peace of mind – we do not need to go looking for who he represents. From the beginning, Waleed experiences Jamal’s presence as an affront to his existence as Jamal is more sporty, and carefree, and seems much more at peace with himself.

Equating the intrusion of Jamal with the Israeli state becomes easier when on a night walk Waleed and Jalal run into one another and use different names for a street in Haifa. Waleed calls it by its Palestinian name, Jalal by the Israeli and when Waleed gets angry Jalal is dismissive and says "so you’re one of those Palestinians," suggesting that he himself has somehow transcended that national moment and now lives his life free of such concerns.

The two men also represent Palestinian identities one is not used to seeing on the big screen. The film won the best screenplay award in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard in 2022, and with good reason: It manages to surprise you at several turns, and not least at its end. It is a film that is not ostensibly about conflict but gives the viewer an excellent sense of how an ongoing conflict will affect personal lives, especially those who like to pretend nothing is happening.

We see Jalal mostly through the eyes of Waleed and understand that he too is unable or unwilling to hold down a steady job. Both men spend most of their time at home, letting their wives do the breadwinning and waiting for that lucky break that will launch their careers. There is of course nothing wrong about being the stay-at-home dad, but these men point to the larger issue of how in the Middle East and elsewhere men are encouraged to think big and try their hand at various ventures while women are encouraged to do the "secure" jobs and provide the stability at home.

Waleed seems to be the better stay-at-home dad, as we see him drop the kids at school, censure them when they speak Hebrew, fold the laundry and pick up the son from school when he has one of his tummy episodes. It is after a conversation with his daughter that he understands that his son always gets the aches before the geography class. Geography is indeed fate and physical and mental health all in one. In his nationalist zeal, Waleed tells his son that he will teach the Israeli teacher a few points of geography and history. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t go there.

As Waleed and Jalal wait for their "lucky breaks" drinking coffee and eating cake, they become fast friends. Waleed gets a glimpse into Jalal’s shady dealings and in a dramatic turn, asks him to help him find a contract killer. By this time in the story we have no doubts as to whose life Waleed wants to end. As pressure on Jalal mounts to pay some debts, the two men get even closer, suffering from the same insecurities and desperation in the same manner. If one neighbor is taken up with the fever, so will the other, the film seems to be saying, and their illnesses will mirror each other. "Mediterranean Fever" needs to be on the syllabi of all courses about the contemporary Middle East – both for its take on the political impasse and as a contemporary example of the witty storytelling tradition of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region.