Asian Movie Pulse sat down with Abbas Fahdel during Black Movie, to discuss “Tales of the Wounded Land”, a documentary that stands as both a personal diary and a historical document of life under sustained bombardment in southern Lebanon. Filmed from within Fahdel’s own family environment, the work captures war not through grand statements or distant analysis, but through the fragile rhythms of everyday life, where fear, routine, and survival intersect.
Fahdel explained that the film did not originate from an intention to “make a movie.” Instead, it began as an extension of fatherhood. Carrying his phone during daily morning walks, he documented his young daughter the way many parents do, unaware that these intimate images would soon frame the opening moments of a war. As the first bombings began, sporadic and seemingly distant, the camera remained observational. When the attacks became recurrent and systematic, Fahdel felt a professional and ethical obligation to continue filming, eventually with a proper camera, recognizing that what was unfolding demanded to be recorded with seriousness and permanence.
One of the most haunting dimensions of “Tales of the Wounded Land” is its depiction of a child’s evolving understanding of violence. Fahdel spoke candidly about the early days of the bombardment, when he and his wife attempted to shield their daughter by re-framing the explosions as harmless noises. What begun in the film as a disarming moment of innocence gradually shifts into something far darker, as the child currently has come to associate planes, thunder, and any loud sound with imminent danger. Fahdel noted that, paradoxically, his daughter is now more frightened than she was at the beginning, as understanding has replaced confusion. For him, this psychological transformation is one of the most devastating consequences of war.
While Fahdel himself has lived through previous conflicts, he emphasized that his personal trauma is secondary. What pains him most is witnessing the terror experienced by his daughter and wife, the latter having already seen her family home destroyed in the 2006 war. In this sense, the film shifts the focus away from the filmmaker as subject and toward the collective, domestic toll of repeated cycles of destruction.
When asked whether making the film functioned as a form of healing, Fahdel rejected the notion. He does not see cinema as therapy, but as duty. As a documentary filmmaker, his role is to document events for the present and the future, not to interpret or resolve them. Once completed, he believes a film belongs entirely to its audience, each viewer free to derive their own meaning without a prescribed emotional response.
The production of “Tales of the Wounded Land” reflects Fahdel’s fiercely independent approach to filmmaking. Like all of his feature-length works, the film was entirely self-produced, without institutional funding. Fahdel described his dissatisfaction with traditional production models, where years may pass between writing a script and beginning to shoot, often draining the urgency that initially inspired the project. For this reason, he has largely abandoned scripted filmmaking, preferring instead to shoot immediately, allowing reality to shape the narrative as it unfolds.
This philosophy extends to his editing process, which Fahdel described as the most crucial stage of filmmaking. Editing was done daily, often in the evenings after filming, while emotions and memories were still vivid. Scenes were assembled as emotional blocks rather than chronological units, later rearranged to form a coherent whole that prioritized emotional truth over linear structure. Fahdel also discussed his cautious use of drone footage, generally avoiding it unless it serves a clear purpose. In the case of the film’s opening and closing procession scenes, aerial shots were used deliberately to convey scale and collective loss, creating a visual circle that frames the documentary.
Another distinctive element of the film is the inclusion of intertitles and written fragments. Fahdel revealed that during the bombardment, he wrote short poetic texts each day, initially shared on social media as a personal outlet. While editing, he felt compelled to integrate some of these texts into the film, acknowledging that certain emotions and ideas could not be fully conveyed through images alone. His deep connection to literature, which includes the publication of novels in France, naturally informed this hybrid cinematic-language approach.
Beyond the film itself, Fahdel addressed the ongoing reality in southern Lebanon. Many villages shown in “Tales of the Wounded Land” remain in ruins, with attempts at rebuilding often met by renewed attacks. The documentary, therefore, does not depict a closed chapter, but an open wound. Fahdel also spoke about the complex political landscape surrounding the conflict, emphasizing that for many residents, affiliation with resistance movements is driven less by ideology than by a perceived necessity for survival.
Looking ahead, Fahdel confirmed that he is already filming his next project, following the same process of shooting and editing simultaneously, without a script or predefined outcome. As with “Tales of the Wounded Land”, the final shape of the film will emerge organically over time.
In its totality, “Tales of the Wounded Land” stands as a stark reaffirmation of Abbas Fahdel’s belief in cinema as an act of witnessing. Stripped of mediation, funding structures, and external control, the film preserves lived experience with urgency and integrity, ensuring that what is being endured today is not erased tomorrow.