Review- “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk” The Light of a Smile Amid the Darkness

--Anwar Shahadat--

The documentary “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk”, directed by Sepideh Farsi, finds its greatest strength in the luminous presence of its central figure, Fatma Hassona. What begins as a seemingly simple story of a young Palestinian woman in Gaza gradually unfolds into a layered reflection on art, resilience, and the human will to endure. Beneath its quiet, linear form lies a film of profound emotional and political complexity.

Fatma is the soul of this documentary. Her unbroken smile- gentle, constant, and defiant- becomes the film’s emotional anchor. Through hunger, bombardment, and isolation, she never lets despair silence her laughter. That strength gives the film its beauty. In Gaza, after the October 7 attacks and the devastating Israeli response, survival itself becomes an act of resistance. Fatma embodies that resistance not through anger, but through grace.

Yet to my own judgement Fatma is not only the film’s subject; she is also its “co-filmmaker”. Every image from Gaza- the shattered buildings, the fragments of daily life, the quiet endurance of people under siege, was captured by her camera. The documentary is therefore a collaboration between two filmmakers: Fatma in Gaza and Farsi, an Iranian director living in Paris. Together, they construct a bridge between two worlds- one confined by war, the other witnessing from afar.

Before the screening, Ms. Farsi told the audience that Fatma had been killed before the film’s completion. That knowledge casts a shadow over every frame. Watching her speak, laugh, and dream, one feels both admiration and dread, aware that her voice has already been silenced. The documentary becomes not just a work of art, but a living memorial.

There are moments that pierce the heart. Fatma mentions she hasn’t eaten meat for nine months (She said Chicken), a quiet statement that conveys the scale of deprivation. She dreams aloud of traveling, of seeing the sea, of living freely, wishes that remain just beyond her reach. When Farsi shares her own travels to Toronto, Rome, and Paris, Fatma smiles wistfully: “If only I could do that.” Another intimate scene shows her adjusting her hijab; when asked why, she laughs, saying, “It’s uncomfortable today.” When Farsi replies that she has never seen her hair, Fatma answers softly, “Because you always record me.” It’s a small, human moment that captures their connection- respect, friendship, and mutual trust.

In the end, Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk is a profound meditation on art as survival. Through Fatma’s lens, destruction becomes testimony; through her smile, pain becomes grace. Farsi’s film is a tribute not only to a lost friend, but to the enduring power of creativity and hope.

A necessary, haunting, and deeply human film- one that transforms witness into remembrance.