Not every work by a painter is a masterpiece. Similarly, not every film is a classic. Artist turned director Julian Schnabel arguably has at least one of each in his noted career both in front of the canvas and behind the lens. Sadly, Miral will not be included in said canon. Perhaps it's the scope of his latest venture into celluloid. It could be the politics of taking on the entirety of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in one setting. Maybe it's the less than successful casting choices. Whatever the case, the man who turned The Diving Bell and the Butterfly into a tender terminal tone poem and championed his fellow fringe freethinker Basquiat, drowns under his own overblown ambitions.
Miral tells several stories, all centering on the last 60-some years of contemporary history. It begins with the founding of Israel and the 1948 Arab-Israeli War. We then move to the tale of Hind Husseini (Hiam Abbass) and her attempts to set up an orphanage in Jerusalem. The storyline then jumps forward two decades, dealing with a pair of female prisoners (Yasmine Al Massri and Ruba Blal) who develop a strong political bond. The last part of the narrative centers on the title character (played by Slumdog Millionaire's Frieda Pinto), as she grows from resident of Husseini's facility to teacher of other refugees. Along the way, she is politicized by events surrounding her (the First Intifada) and a budding relationship with a headstrong activist Hani (Omar Metwally).
If contrition were coins, a film like Miral would be rich beyond its wildest dreams. As a plea for peace, as a long winded walk around the real issues facing the feuding Middle East, Schnabel's cinematic slight seems obvious. Instead of confronting the issues head-on, instead of making the tough artistic choices that would lead to even more difficult lines in the cinematic sands, the filmmaker takes the easy way out, arguing tolerance and time when truth would be a whole lot better. Part of the problem is Rula Jebreal's novel, which does the entire Palestinian predicament a disservice. Instead of painting a complicated portrait, Miral makes the enemies obvious and the answers transparent and trite. We hope for insight. What we get instead is insipid.
It also doesn't help that the casting contrasts the material's major problems. While stunning to look at, Ms. Pinto is only a passable heroine. We are supposed to champion Miral's choices, both moral and highly questionable. Instead, we are constantly struck at how superficial this film's center feels. Pinto just can't command the dynamic necessary here. We are supposed to see the entire struggle in her lax learning curve. Instead, we experience a sense of shallow awareness, nothing more. More impressive is Ms. Abbass, who can carry the weight of such world events on her expressive face. We get what Mama Hind is striving for. We understand and support her causes. But because she has to take a backseat to our more mainstream lead, it's impossible for her to hold it all together.
Because it's based in truth, because it tackles themes and ideas that rarely get play in a standard Hollywood film, Miral makes a case for being applauded, and there are indeed moments when Schnabel's scattered approach (call it "purposeful post-modern moviemaking quirk") gets to the heart of the matter. But without a strong central core, without a character we care about or an actor who can get our whole attention, the film eventually fails. Just because someone puts pen to paper or film to reel doesn't mean they are guaranteed to deliver. Miral misses the mark, often by more than initially meets the trained eye.
