Review: Name Me Lawand
- UK director Edward Lovelace's sensitive and impressionistic Hot Docs prize-winning documentary immerses us in the world of a deaf Kurdish boy
The fourth feature-length documentary by UK filmmaker Edward Lovelace, Name Me Lawand [+see also:
trailer
film profile], which has just had its international premiere at Hot Docs, scooping the Special Jury Prize (see the news), is a moving, impressionistic piece that immerses us in the world of the titular Kurdish boy.
Living with his family in Iraq, the completely deaf Lawand had no chance to communicate or get any education. His family didn't sign, and in general, support for the deaf community in the country was practically non-existent. So they set out on a months-long journey when the boy was five, and ended up in Derby in the UK.
When Lawand enrols in a school for the deaf, he learns British Sign Language (BSL) and makes speedy progress: he has a great rapport with the teachers, makes fast friends and gains confidence. His mum and dad, though, resist learning BSL, afraid it will make him too different from others, which is what he was bullied for at home. They would prefer him to speak, but it’s very difficult for him and his older brother Rawa to learn the basics of the language. And just as Lawand finds a means to express himself and starts discovering the world and learning about himself, the Home Office threatens to deport them. Another strand of the documentary gives us a wider social picture, with protests calling for the BSL Act, which would officially recognise it as a language, taking place in London.
From the impressive, opening montage and throughout the film, Lovelace aims to show us the world the way Lawand perceives it. Of course, not literally, because that would mean a lot of silence and muffled sounds. Instead, Ed Downham's sound design follows the visual approach, "listening" to Ben Fordesman's camera that is always moving, whether in hand or on a dolly, using skewed angles, close-ups and detail shots that convey the protagonist's inner state. Moreover, the film uses a 16:9 aspect ratio for the objective point of view and 4:3 for Lawand's perspective, impressions or memories. Some of these are executed through elegant recreations, as well as with archive footage for scenes representing Iraq.
For instance, as Lawand tells his sensitive teacher Sophie, who really helped him open up, about the trip he had to make with his family, it is a nightmarish collection of short scenes in which we just perceive the usual signifiers of a refugee's experience: life jackets on shaky boats in choppy seas, dusty roads, plastic tents and barbed wire. Meanwhile, the Home Office issue is introduced gradually, almost foreshadowing what we will find out at the end, and along the way, we learn what being able to communicate means to Lawand. It has brought him freedom, but also an identity – before he learned BSL, it was always someone else translating for him.
The film shows us how isolated and lonely the boy felt through the leitmotif of different worlds. In his voice-over, Rawa says that this planet was not made for his brother and that he would like to go with him to another place. Later, Lawand takes part in a school play about the solar system.
Name Me Lawand moves like a whirlwind, fully made up of impressionistic set-pieces that are put together into chapters, each dealing with a certain aspect of Lawand's experience. They are spurred on by Tom Hodge's ever-present piano-and-strings score. It goes through a variety of moods – contemplative, hopeful, inspiring, suspenseful – but is always gentle and almost loving.
Name Me Lawand was produced by the UK's Pulse Films and Electric Shadow Company.
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