Recensioni de* critic*

Wry rather than uproarious, it’s a little uneven at times. But Suleiman is a master of slow-burning, cumulative humour; this is the kind of comedy that creeps up on you.

It Must Be Heaven balances discovery with melancholy: it's clearly the work of someone thrilled to have new angles to shoot (Suleiman's hallowed status in France is such that whole neighbourhoods and tourist attractions have been roped off for him), but also filled with a mounting regret that certain imbalances and injustices remain visible wherever one might go. Seeing more of the planet just means you see more of the good and the bad.

The consistent theme of It Must Be Heaven is that the world, not just Elia’s home, is a funny place, but the film is funny in a way that feels tired, often mirthless, and – as reflected in his screen persona – just a little testily supercilious.

Ten years since his last film, renowned Palestinian filmmaker Elia Suleiman makes a welcome return to the fore... his latest is at once a charming, deadpan study of national identities, an idiosyncratic love letter to his home and an unvarnished tribute to life’s universal absurdities.

If it means anything, It Must Be Heaven is about conformity. Every frame is even and symmetrical, but their contents are skewed. Through the protagonist’s bemused eyes, one sees a series of comic vignettes – almost Trigger Happy TV-style micro-satires of modern city life.

Utilising the universal language of silent cinema, Suleiman has made a film about Palestine that is universally relatable. A small, understated gem.

[I]t is a sharp observational/physical comedy (sans Buster Keaton-esque vignettes) of errors that provides deadpan belly-laughs if you can look beyond their episodic presence.

The film has an interesting way of storytelling. The scenes begin as observational shots, but the camera quickly changes positions to show Suleiman watching from the other side of the room or a street. The camera then returns to where it first stood, and this back-and-forth movement is delightfully engaging.

The problem with It Must Be Heaven, common to much of Suleiman’s work, is that the results don’t often coincide with his unabashed ambition—fuelled, it must be said, by unabashed egotism. His signature style—absurdist vignettes implemented with long takes and a static camera—appears to strive for a Roy Andersson-style frisson, but often comes off as merely glib.

Because warmed-over humanism is his chosen mode, his facile symmetries are meant to reinforce — as the press notes say — the “unexpected parallels” that he discovers while travelling the globe. They’re also meant to be funny. That they fail as comedy is perhaps forgivable. That they turn disparate places and people into easily readable mirror images, which provide us the comfort of the familiar only because they reflect back a portrait of ourselves, is more worthy of condemnation. And even if It Must Be Heaven is too dull to be offensive, it is shockingly deluded about the current state of affairs — and that’s no laughing matter at all.

Much of the film offers the bemused outlook of the wide-eyed traveller, and the tone is so light and unassuming that it threatens to float away at points. Yet there are enough sharp and amusing moments to keep it tethered to the ground.

Suleiman knows he’s a tough sell, and he’s willing to have a self-reflexive laugh at his own expense.