From his balcony, Suleiman observes a group of policemen speeding down the road on electric unicycles that make sounds like UFOs.
In Paris, many of the vignettes focus on the ubiquitous presence of the police and military. This is the main point put forward by It Must Be Heaven, which ultimately doesn’t prove all that illuminating. In It Must Be Heaven, his alter ego travels to Paris and New York to find that, outward shine and lack of war notwithstanding, these strongholds of Western values don’t actually seem that different from Palestine after all. Elia Suleiman has always opted for a different route, composing his fictions from fanciful vignettes that draw on the absurdity of his homeland’s occupation and casting himself as a silent, deadpan observer to the variously droll happenings (think Buster Keaton minus the physicality).
When it comes to cinema, the tragic situation in Palestine typically inspires grim documentaries or realist tales of hardship and war.
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