A Few Moments of Happiness

A Few Moments of Happiness is a stark work of filmmaking. As unusual as it is uncompromising, the film takes the form of a series of screen-recordings, phone calls, audio clips and phone camera footage, all of which either capture or refer to the horrific, and continuing attacks on Lebanon by the Israeli military. All of these glimpses of footage are edited together with enough thought and patience that a purposeful cinematic approach reveals itself (though not one of sequencing or cinematography in any regular sense). As well as obviously being about the indisputable, genocidal evils Israel is currently committing – and just one example of a people and a place currently suffering genuine horrors, it manages to also be a meditation on how one processes these horrors, or distances oneself from them, through the context of our digitally connected world.

I find it slightly dispiriting that the top Letterboxd review of this film argues that what we’re watching here cannot be considered filmmaking. And as valid as it is to criticise the form this piece takes, the fact is that a film can be anything. There’s also no better way to experiment with an idea like this than in the form of a short film – because, no, this would not be effective or interesting as a feature. But a short allows it to be an exercise in something; a unique abstraction of real life without being bound by the grander expectations of an entertainment-based medium. Whilst I’m uninterested in the idea of continuing to use screen recordings on smartphones to constitute a ‘film’, one must concede that when there’s a deliberate point to doing so – whether it be spectatorial or information-based – we don’t have to like it, but we should be open to the creative vision.

I’ve used the term ‘documentary’ broadly; however, this is a short film which is using its form to document reality – and so despite the lack of scenes, shots or conventional form, the fact that the medium of cinema has been selected is a significant and deliberate decision to consider. For instance, the filmmaker is well aware of the fact that during the recorded phone calls, the audience will be staring at a black screen. Here, the absence of an image is just as relevant as if there were images to look over; it leads the viewer – or in this case, listener – to isolate these crackled voices, place yourself in the frightened, focused perspective of our documentarian, and observe the truth in the words. It’s also helped that the use of sound design and editing in this 17-minute piece is incredibly immersive.

A Few Moments of Happiness is a revealing work about the ways in which social media can connect you with the suffering in the world or in your home, or – on the flip side – numb you to it. This is illustrated in the high point of the short film. The pace of the editing increases dramatically as we cut back and forth between phone footage of people dancing and partying as a form of escapism, and the visceral truth of the continuing bombings and chaos ensuing in Lebanon. There’s some powerful messaging taking place here, even when it’s simply drawing a line between one thing to another – but to me, that’s called editing, and therefore filmmaking.