... With Trauma Inducing Tolerance
A wrong assumption that proved genocidal. How infuriatingly futile could lives be worth under the orchestrations of war. Even in animation, in non-linear documentation. Dreams. Delusion. Disillusionment. We're nothing but pawns.
That cacophony of wailing Palestinian women would tingle a guilt long dormant. In fact, the labels (Christians, Phalangists, Muslims, Palestinians, Lebanese, Jews) are enough to tickle for a laugh at how we've divided ourselves into categories, classes, races, castes, sects, adherences; as if incendiaries that would soon only fizzle out after a body count.
No wonder Ari Folman didn't have a say at all. The subconscious just had to do what it could. To forget.
But the visions of Sabra and Shatila massacre must creep up. It needed to be told.
And this guilt of having survived, or being the one to survive, it needed to be felt, to suffer through until you could wriggle free from it with a conviction that it must not happen again.
Although it might. And it will. Again and again.
Ah, Bashir! Ah, humanity!