TEHRAN- “All That’s Left of You” is the latest work by Cherien Dabis — the Palestinian-American director, writer, and actor. Released in January 2025, the film places the audience on a historical journey, from the beginning of the Nakba (1948) to present-day Palestine, following the story of a single family to illuminate the harrowing fate of a people whom Zionist forces sought to erase from history.

Featuring Saleh Bakri, “All That’s Left of You” presents a multigenerational portrait of a Palestinian family whose lives — from the onset of Israeli occupation through the decades that followed — are shaped by exile, dispossession, and the lasting consequences of these events.

The film opens with a bullet fired at a Palestinian teenager during a 1988 protest — an incident that compels his mother, Hanan (played by Dabis), to recount the family’s past: how the grandfather was driven from his land and home, and how displacement and life in refugee camps cast a long shadow over the generations that followed.

Among its major recognitions, the film premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, and it was selected as Jordan’s official submission for Best International Feature Film at the 98th Academy Awards.

The Tehran Times conducted an exclusive interview with Dabis, which is presented below:

Instead of a linear narrative, you used a looping structure to depict 75 years of occupation history. What was the reason for this choice?

I wanted to start the film with an iconic moment — a familiar image we see often in the news — that of a Palestinian teenager at a protest. We’ve watched Palestinians protesting for decades, but I’m not sure much of the world knows what we’re fighting for and why. I wanted to start the film with this iconic image and then tell people how that teenager ended up at that protest and how his family ended up in a refugee camp. That’s a story too few people know, because the Palestinian narrative has been denied, erased, and censored. It was my way into the film: to start it in medias res, at the height of the action, and then go back in time to show how this particular family — and really all Palestinians in one way or another — became refugees.

I also wanted to use the conceit of a bullet as a way to focus the story. It’s the moment of violence at a protest that begins the film and prompts our hero teenager’s mother to start telling the story of how her son ended up at this protest. But to tell his story, she has to tell the story of his grandfather. In other words, in order for people to understand her son’s rebellion, she has to tell the story of the family — specifically how his grandfather was dispossessed of his land. Focusing the film on the story of the son and his violent encounter allowed me to more easily choose the moments in time that we highlight in the film, because everything that we show going back in time is to explain who the teenager is and why he’s at this protest.

What challenges did the conditions in Palestine after October 7 create for filming? It seems the production continued in Cyprus, Jordan, and Greece.

We prepped in Palestine for nearly five months before having to evacuate in October 2023. We were only two weeks away from shooting. All of the work had been done. The most devastating thing about fleeing was leaving our Palestinian crew behind. They were so excited about working on a historic Palestinian film. We didn’t know what would happen to them or if they’d be able to come with us.

Once we fled, we were in a state of crisis, both financial and logistical. We didn’t know where to go or how, or if we’d be able to continue making the film. We had to re-prep it all over again, and that required raising a lot more financing. We had to continually stop and start because we’d run out of money or wouldn’t know where to go next to continue shooting. I was forced to look for Palestine everywhere but Palestine. In some ways, the film lived what most Palestinians live — war and exile.

Finally, we ended up shooting the majority of the film in two Palestinian refugee camps in the north of Jordan, which was amazing because we engaged the local refugee community in the making of the film and in the telling of what is essentially their own story. The remainder of the film was shot in Cyprus and Greece. It wasn’t easy to make those places look like Palestine. The art department had an even bigger job to do there.

The hardest part for me was that we found ourselves making a movie about what was happening as it was happening. Life and art seemed to merge in this very surreal way, and it made for an intense, emotionally draining experience. At the same time, the film became a container for our grief, anger, compassion, and love. We poured ourselves into it, because we knew that what we were making had become all the more vital and relevant. Looking back, it was a gift to be able to create during a time of such destruction. It definitely helped us feel less powerless.

At age 8, you experienced a traumatic encounter with Israeli soldiers. To what extent and how did this painful experience inspire “All That’s Left of You”?

It was my first memory of traveling to Palestine. My family was held at the border between Jordan and the West Bank for 12 hours. The soldiers interrogated my parents again and again and picked through the contents of our suitcases. They ordered all of us to be strip-searched, including my baby sisters, aged three and one. My dad confronted them, and they began shouting at him. I was convinced they were going to kill him. It was the first time in my life that I felt, viscerally, what it meant to be Palestinian. Painful experiences like that left an indelible impact on me and made me want to tell our stories, especially because I grew up mostly in the diaspora in the U.S., keenly aware of how dangerously misrepresented Palestinians were — and still are — in mainstream media, film, and television.

This particular memory inspired the humiliation scene that is the midpoint of “All That’s Left of You”. I wanted to explore how political events that we’ve read about for decades — in this case, dispossession and violent military occupation — impact people psychologically and emotionally, how they shape people and families, and even change relationships within families.

Can you share how Javier Bardem and Mark Ruffalo joined as executive producers? How did they first inform you of their intent, and how did you feel about their support?

When we went to Sundance in January, we had the hottest time slot of the festival — Saturday night at the Eccles Theater. The premiere was packed and emotional. We got two standing ovations, the second of which lasted for 12 or so minutes, about twice as long as the usual standing ovations at Sundance. And our reviews were terrific. Despite all of this, within press and industry circles, the film still didn’t get the attention it deserved. This was so disappointing — to work so hard to make such a vital film that seemed to be perfectly timed and then feel that it was being overlooked simply because of its identity, subject matter, and lack of star power. That was when we realized that we had to find a way to change that. So we started to think about who might be able to help us raise the profile of the film. Javier and Mark were the first two on my list. I’ve long admired them not only for their extraordinary talent but for the fact that they’ve always stood for humanity. I feel tremendously fortunate to have their enthusiastic support.

How do you think the censorship of “All That’s Left of You” across major platforms have affected the film’s visibility and its ability to reach global audiences?

There’s a much larger pattern at play — not just in the U.S. but globally — to censor or overlook Palestinian voices and narratives. That has absolutely hindered the prospects of my film. And it’s not just the streamers. It’s also distribution companies in North America and other English-speaking territories, which have been the hardest to sell. Several distributors openly admitted they were afraid of the subject matter.

There’s this pervasive belief that it’s somehow acceptable to devalue not only Palestinian lives but everything about us — our stories, our perspectives, our art. And of course, this is part of a much deeper issue. Just look at what’s happening in Gaza. If this were happening anywhere else in the world, there would be unequivocal, universal outrage. I’ve even been told point-blank that if my film took place in any other part of the world, it would’ve landed major mainstream U.S. distribution. That’s not just bias — that’s racism and censorship. And we have to call it what it is. We have to hold the industry accountable.

That said, I’m doing everything in my power to work around the racism, and I’m finding a good deal of support as well. We have incredible distributors in Europe, Latin America, Indonesia, and other territories. And I’ve built a partnership with a boutique distributor in the U.S., where I’m very hands-on with the release. I’m determined to make sure “All That’s Left of You” reaches audiences everywhere. The film deserves to be seen, and so do the people whose stories it represents. My goal is to make sure that as many people as possible see this film.

As a Palestinian filmmaker, if you were to make a film about the close bond and empathy between Iranians and Palestinians, which specific aspect or event would you focus on?

Well, I’m married to an Iranian American, so I’m intimately familiar with that close bond and empathy, and I’m so grateful for it! To be honest, I’d probably make a film about marriage. The last few years have been so hard — for Palestinians and Iranians. It’s interesting to see how political turmoil impacts relationships, creating challenges but also bringing people closer together. I’d probably want to explore that and mine my own marriage for inspiration. In fact, I might just do that!

Photo: A scene from “All That’s Left of You” by Palestinian-American director Cherien Dabis 

AH/SAB