On January 29, 2024, Hind Rami Iyad Rajab, a 5-year-old Palestinian girl, called the Palestinian Red Crescent. Rajab was fleeing Gaza City with her aunt, uncle, and four cousins when their car was shot by an Israeli tank, killing all but Rajab and one of her cousins, Layan Hamadeh. Hamadeh would die a short while later after calling the Red Crescent herself, leaving Rajab the only survivor. After a series of phone conversations with the Red Crescent over the course of the next three hours, Rajab would go silent at 7:30 PM, and would not be heard again. Almost two weeks later, when the Israeli Defense Force vacated the area, Rajab and her family were discovered in what remained of their Kia, punctured by 355 bullets, and right next to the ruins of an ambulance sent by the Red Crescent.
The Voice of Hind Rajab, directed by Kaouther Ben Hania, dramatizes the events of January 29 from the perspective of the Red Crescent responders. Incorporating real footage and audio with a re-enactment by actors who look and sound remarkably close to the real people they are portraying, Voice is a compelling docu-thriller that’s appropriately hard to watch.
Voice initially focuses on Omar Alqam (Motaz Malhees), a Red Crescent volunteer in Ramallah who speaks first to Hamadeh, then Rajab, on the phone. From the opening moments, the toll these calls take on the volunteers is abundantly clear. Less than five minutes into the film, one of Alqam’s calls ends abruptly, the person on the other end most likely dead.
Right down the hallway is overworked mental health worker Nisreen Qawas (Clara Khoury). Once Rajab’s call comes in, Alqam’s supervisor, Rana Faqih (Saja Kilani), a more senior caller, ends up continuing Alqam’s conversation after Rajab ends up connecting with her more. As Faqih talks to Rajab, Alqam relentlessly pesters Mahdi Aljamal (Amer Hlehel), an administrative officer whose job involves coordinating rescues with the West Bank Health Ministry, the Red Cross, and (indirectly) the Israeli government.
It takes only a few minutes for the volunteers to discern Rajab’s location, and from there assess the time an ambulance would need to retrieve her: eight minutes. Alqam even writes it in large letters on Aljamal’s office window. Eight minutes to save Rajab.
One hundred and fifty minutes later, the responders will have failed to save Rajab. “Our ambulance is eight minutes away from the girl,” Almajal says on a phone call to Rajab’s uncle, explaining their process, “but to send it, we have to call the Red Cross. Then they call the Israeli Ministry of Defense. The soldiers on the ground send us a secure route, but that goes through the Ministry of Defense, then to the Red Cross, then [back to us]. But receiving the route doesn’t mean we have the green light.”
Many of the darkest moments of Voice are borne of needless bureaucracy. A rescue mission of just eight minutes is delayed and fails because ensuring everyone’s safety requires four layers of phone calls with disinterested people far removed from the unfolding tragedy. The most harrowing scenes are when Rajab repeatedly calls out, “Come get me!” only to be answered by Faqih feebly saying through tears, “Would you like to hear another prayer?”
The conflict of Voice is systemic. Passionate humanitarians are forced to repeat meaningless platitudes while they wait for the people holding all the cards to decide whether to play or fold. Rajab’s death is never portrayed as inevitable, making it all the more frustrating when the tireless efforts of the volunteers are unsuccessful. At one point, Alqam even speaks directly to the Red Cross, suggesting to them that nearby Israeli soldiers could simply pick her up. The rescue of a young girl who had lost her family – regardless of the circumstances – could easily be spun into propaganda. The disconnected tone can be heard before Alqam is finished speaking.
Eight minutes for an ambulance to reach Rajab. An hour to get the Red Cross on the phone. Longer to reach someone who cares.
At a technical level, Voice is immaculate. Director Kaouther Ben Hania – whose previous film Four Daughters masterfully blended re-enactment and documentary to tell the story of a Tunisian family – seamlessly incorporates the real conversation between Rajab and volunteers. On a few occasions, the real volunteers are heard, before their audio is faded out to let the actors take over. One particularly stunning scene even incorporates real video, as Aljamal films an exasperated Qawas talking to Rajab over a speakerphone in her final moments. The real, released-to-social-media video is played on Aljamal’s phone, while Khoury acts out the scene in the background.
Voice is undeniably an important film, but just as importantly, it’s also a remarkably well-made film.
Francois Truffaut is famously reported to have said “there are no anti-war movies.” The most common interpretation of this quote is that any movie about war, regardless of the filmmakers’ intentions, will inevitably glorify the war in some capacity, simply by virtue of having to make a compelling film. Voice is not a film about war, but the tragedy depicted is very real, very personal, and for better or worse, fits very cleanly into a narrative. Ben Hania would not make this film if there was not a story here worth telling, but telling that story requires turning a war crime into entertainment.
And Ben Hania isn’t blind to this. The tone of Voice is hopeless, but with a burning undercurrent of frustration. The events of the film are preventable. Rajab could have been saved. Rajab’s family could have been saved. Nobody had to die, and we should all be ashamed that people did. Alqam spends half the movie reminding Aljamal of the blood on his hands, an accusation that feels directed as much at the audience as it is at the character. The evils happening here are happening in broad daylight, being allowed by government entities we allow to exist. The tragedy of The Voice of Hind Rajab is not inevitable. The system only exists because the right people continue to look the other way. Rajab’s story is not unique.
Since October 7th, 2023, at least 70,373 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza, at least 20,000 of them children. While the ceasefire in October has slowed the killing, Israel continues to kill Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank every day in direct violation of the ceasefire terms.
Thank you to Mongrel Media and Star PR for the screener.
