Flana

In this bold debut, director Zahraa Ghandour weaves a personal yet woefully universal story from her childhood into a careful, modern-day inquiry into the mistreatment of Iraqi women and girls.

Ever since the fateful day her 10-year-old friend and neighbour Nour went missing, Ghandour has been looking for answers. Focusing on the concept of “flana,” an Iraqi term for forgotten or anonymous women, Ghandour links past and present, connecting with her elders and peers while attempting to find her childhood playmate in the context of disappearances that still happen on a weekly basis.

Scouring Baghdad for Nour and encountering signs of the many girls who have vanished, through orphanages or through other, unspeakable means, Ghandour navigates Iraq's complex web of war and tribal laws and meditates on the trauma that generations of women are simultaneously experiencing.

Ghandour’s piercing gaze, accompanied by an unsettling score over unobtrusive camera work, shines a light on that which has long gone unseen and unspoken. Delving into her Aunt Hayat’s own recollection of Nour’s disappearance, combing through personal archives, and finding women with stories similar to Nour’s who are pushing for their own peace, Flana ensures that the real-life accounts of the girls and women linger in every cut.

Ghandour deftly captures the inner spaces and lives of Iraqi women and explores a range of narratives that form the so-called “flana,” ensuring each unique situation retains its thumbprint. As Iraqi women continue to navigate an unsettled present, rife with hidden dangers and dark secrets, the absent float over the land, demanding their fates be acknowledged at last.

DOROTA LECH