There is a bitter irony at the heart of Abdulaziz Alshlahei’s dynamic third feature “Hobal,” which follows a family that has long sought safety in the desert, led by Liyam (Ibrahim Al-Hasawi), a patriarch carrying on a Bedouin tradition by living at a remove from civilization. While the nomadic clan has picked up and moved at their leisure in the past, this provocative drama unfolds at a time when there’s no running from the future or from one another.
“Hobal” is set in the Middle East six months ahead of the Gulf War in 1990, but it’s telling that a breaking news alert regarding the impending violence barely registers on the radio carried by Battal (Hamdy Alfridi), one of Liyam’s sons, hard-pressed to find a signal in the middle of nowhere. When Rifa (Amal Sami), a teenage member of the family, has come down with measles, reports of armed conflict pale in comparison to the battle brewing within the family about a potential trip to Kuwait. Liyam resists the idea that treatment can only be found in the city where he’s been led to believe there’s only sin, but he takes her illness as a reason to resettle when coupled with other signs that doomsday is approaching, from the aforementioned drumbeat toward war, the death of his grandchild and the loss of his son Majed, who left behind a young son of his own, Assaf (Hamad Farhan).
There threatens to be too much too early for both those onscreen and off in “Hobal” when no less than five minutes pass before a child is buried by her mother and a dog approaching the grave is mercilessly shot. Besides being overly dramatic, Alshlahei is obliged to introduce each of the nine family members by name to make it easier to keep track as a caravan of trucks starts making its way across the dunes to move on from the tragedy. For audiences outside the region, it seems fair to assume that these could be representatives of the changing society from which Liyam has kept his distance, but for those unfamiliar, it can be frustratingly vague. Even so, the film rewards patience when Rifa’s condition becomes a real flashpoint for the family, with the measles not only physically separating the young and the old, but also serving as a test of their attitudes toward modernity (whether or not to be proactive).
Introduced riding alone in the back of a flatbed as her relatives are packed tightly into their vehicles as a kind of quarantine, Rifa stands out as an outcast among outcasts, but she’s hardly alone in feeling isolated. Liyam may have been raised as a humble servant of God, but to his family, he holds the burden of playing the all-powerful role, both unquestioned and elusive as a final arbiter on what direction they’ll take. It’s fitting that the weight of such responsibility leads him to disappear on them altogether, leaving everyone to interpret how best to carry out his will.
A vacuum of leadership is particularly stark as Rifa’s health worsens and although there’s no shortage of confident women in the family, only men are expected to take the mantle. A fascinating dichotomy emerges between his two remaining sons, neither of whom are a comfortable fit. The quieter and more conscientious Battal would clearly be better suited to take care of the family if his self-confidence hadn’t been dashed after the embarrassing rejection of a marriage proposal by a potential father-in-law, and Liyam’s more volatile son Shannar (Mishal Almutairi) would relish a seat at the head of the table, but has no natural paternal instincts, showing little concern for Rifa despite her being his daughter.
Cinematographer Mahmoud Youssef and production designer Adel Alshahrani buy time for Alshlahei and writer Mufarrij Almajfel to lay the groundwork for all the relationship dynamics at play, distracting audiences with how visually engaging the film is. The colorful homestead the family sets up and cunning compositions are impressive, one of the strongest being Assaf and Rifa’s connection, conveyed with a two-way mirror that transcends the divide of the tent that separates them when she is ill. The simplicity of that image also makes a point beyond the bond the two youngest characters share when everyone older than them struggles to have such a clean connection reflected.
More explicitly tragic moments seem beholden to old ways of thinking that the film is critical of, but for much of “Hobal,” Alshlahei looks to be ahead of the times in expressing a clash of values from various angles. An incongruity of ideals shaped by age, gender and religious devotion may place a family at a standstill, but the recognition of them becomes a sign of progress.
