°źÂț”ș

At just 33 years old, Ìęhas already won theÌęand theÌęin 2021.

Set in the occupied Golan Heights in Syria, where the director’s parents are from, the film portrays a former doctor who experiences an existential crisis before meeting a mysterious soldier. It established Eldin as a rising talent, and naturally, his next steps are highly anticipated.

Recently, he presented his second moody, contemplative and beautifully shot feature, , in the Competition section of the latest Berlinale edition, revolving around another internally shaken character.

We took the occasion to speak with Ameer Fakher Eldin about the concepts behind the plot and characters, as well as the filmmaking process.

The main character of Yunan Munir, performed by the Lebanese actor and writer is the centre of the film.

After a medical check in his adoptive country Germany at which he is recommended to take a break from everyday stress, he sets out on a journey to a secluded island somewhere in the Baltic sea, grappling with a suicidal drive while being shadowed by a mysterious parable from his mother.

Amid the island's profound solitude, he crosses paths with the enigmatic Valeska – another notable performance by legendary German actress , mostly known for her roles in Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s rebellious and non-conformist cinema.

Though conversation between the characters is scarce, small gestures of kindness gradually dissolve mistrust, lightening Munir’s emotional weight and rekindling his will to live.

The title of the film comes from the Arabic translation of the Bible, where Jonah is called “Yunan”.

Eldin explains that he chose the reference to this biblical character because "Jonah’s journey is one of descent into the unknown, to be reborn. I thought, where better to explore estrangement than in the belly of a whale? This idea of submersion, of being caught between what we were and what we must become, mirrors the characters' struggles. Like Jonah, they are all exiles, searching for a shore they can’t name, caught in the space between what has been and what will be."

Munir’s journey of emotional exile emerged from a deep, introspective examination of the human condition.

Though the character of Munir is far removed in age from his creator, the emotional territory they both navigate is strikingly similar.

"Munir came from an exploration of the universal struggle — exile, loss, and the quest for meaning," elaborates the filmmaker, reflecting on the complexity of bringing such a character to life.

"His emotional landscape is not bound by age; it's about reconciling with the emptiness that exile brings. What he struggles with, this void left by the absence of home and identity, is something I deeply connect with."

When asked about the decision to leave Munir's backstory deliberately vague, the filmmaker’s response shed light on the story’s broader emotional goals.

"Exile, in essence, isn’t about a specific place or event," the filmmaker explained. "It’s about what happens when everything familiar falls away. I wanted to capture that internal disarray, where the past fades and only the emotional residue remains. Munir’s past is almost irrelevant. What matters is what his exile leaves him with emotionally – the fragility of a self that no longer has a place to anchor itself."

This sense of ambiguity in Munir’s background, paired with his deep psychological battles, allowed the character to become a mirror for anyone who has faced loss and displacement.

"The lack of a defined history should allow the audience to engage with Munir’s struggle more universally," assumes Eldin. "Rather than tethering him to one specific culture or political narrative, I wanted to present his experience as something everyone could recognize – the isolation that comes from being untethered from your own history."

In discussing the characters who surround Munir – Valeska and her son Karl – the director clarifies that they were not based on real-life prototypes.

"They’re not representations of specific people," he said, "but rather reflections of deeper existential truths. Munir, Valeska, and Karl aren’t tied to any singular individual but to the emotional landscapes that shape all of us. I wanted their relationships to evoke universal feelings of connection, loss, and fear – things that resonate through silence and the spaces between their words."

One of the film’s most haunting elements, the ghostly tale of a shepherd and his wife, seems to represent more than just a supernatural story – it rather serves as a fragile thread of reality in the face of Munir’s mother’s unraveling mind.

"The story is less about its narrative and more about its function in Munir’s life," clarifies Eldin. "It’s an absurdity born from his mother’s fractured imagination, a kind of distorted fantasy. Munir doesn’t hold onto it because it mirrors his own history; he clings to it because it’s all that remains of his connection to reality. The deeper horror for him is not the loss of memory, but the fear of being forgotten entirely."

When asked about the casting of Hanna Schygulla for the role of Valeska, the filmmaker spoke of the actress’s deep understanding of silence and inner depth.

"Hanna was the perfect choice for Valeska because of her personal history as a refugee. Her experience brought an authenticity to the role that could not be faked," he shared. "Her portrayal captured the quiet complexity of the character, the layers of unspoken emotion that define Valeska’s interactions with Munir and her son."

The film’s cinematography, with its long, contemplative shots, adds to the overall atmosphere of displacement. In one shot, Valeska’s son crosses an island on a small railway cart, passing by the water – a scene that feels like a literal visual quote from Tarkovsky’s .

Asked about the aesthetic influences on his style, Eldin says: " I understand the impulse to draw comparisons, but I do not see the value in it. Every artist must find his influences, yes, but it is not about copying or being influenced in a superficial way. It’s about understanding the essence of what has come before and using it as a foundation to express something deeply personal, something that transcends the boundaries of time.”

"For me, cinema is not about homage or nostalgia”, he continues.

“It’s a language for revealing the truths that reside within us all. It’s not enough to simply reference or repeat what has already been said or done; the point is to confront your own world as it is, to give it voice, and in doing so, to contribute something new to the eternal conversation between artists. Influence, in its true sense, is not about imitation but about adding one's own voice to the flow of human experience."

The location where the film takes place – the island that appears to sink and rise again – was not chosen just for its beauty but for its symbolic resonance.

"The island, with its ‘Land unter’ phenomenon, where the sea swallows the land only to let it reemerge, was perfect for the story," the filmmaker explained. "It represents the rhythm of the narrative: submersion, loss, and return. What vanishes is never fully gone, but when it returns, it’s always changed. Therefore, this island mirrors the emotional and existential states of the characters, particularly Munir, who is caught in a cycle of disappearance and reemergence, never fully finding his way home."

Lastly, the filmmaker shared his thoughts on the nature of cinema and its ability to explore unresolved spaces.

"People often approach films looking for clarity, answers," he said. "But perhaps the real power of cinema is in what remains unresolved, what lingers. In Yunan, it’s not about providing easy answers. The film is meant to leave the viewer in that quiet pause, that moment where questions hang in the air. It’s in that tension, that uncertainty within which we begin to understand something profound about ourselves."

Mariana Hristova is aÌęfreelance film critic, cultural journalist, and programmer. She contributes to national and international outlets and has curated programs for Filmoteca De Catalunya, Arxiu XcĂšntric, goEast Wiesbaden, etc. Her professional interests include cinema from the European peripheries and archival and amateur films