This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Privacy Overview
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
3rd Party Cookies
This website uses Google Analytics to collect anonymous information such as the number of visitors to the site, and the most popular pages.
Keeping this cookie enabled helps us to improve our website.
Please enable Strictly Necessary Cookies first so that we can save your preferences!
Director's Statement
At its heart, this is a film about a couple working hard to give their children a better life. Thein Shwe reminds me of my own father, the tough, quiet man who occasionally breaks into a smile and shows his affectionate side. My father also worked hard, and was often absent, in order to give his family everything he – a Palestinian refugee – never had: stability, certainty, safety. This is what drew me to Thein Shwe. I felt an instinctive connection the instant we met. He soon asked me, “What brought you halfway across the world to find me here? Maybe we were related in a previous life.”
This reflects my approach to filmmaking: working very closely with the people I film, emphasising mutual respect, mutual benefit, and learning from them. In this, I am eternally indebted to the two Burmese assistant directors: Joshua Min Htut (the subject of the Oscar-nominated BURMA VJ) and Than Win Han, who were there filming for over 4 years, crafting the story with me.
With this film, I want to explore the human aspects of the oil industry. As a child growing up in Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, global oil trade was at the centre of my world. I was surrounded by the money and mythology of oil; a creature with tentacles reaching across the globe. This is the oil industry that most people are familiar with, and it dominates every aspect of our lives. It creates and destroys. It brings countries unimaginable wealth, and decimates them. I wanted to get beyond the abstraction of “the industry” and examine the point where oil is intimately connected with the human body; where one person reaches into the ground and touches, with their bare hands, the remnants of tens of millions of years of organic decomposition.
This is a vertical film, like the construction of the oil wells, digging deeper rather than zooming out, emphasising miniscule detail over epic narrative. It’s a tale, inspired by the folklore and mythology of Burma: a family going about their daily lives in a slow-moving world of luck, fate, karma, astrology, and dragons, where everything influences everything else and is influenced by millennia of past lives. Above all, the film is about cycles, constantly ending and beginning again. A well is born, bled dry and abandoned, and a new one is dug. Oil is collected, poured into an engine, and the drilling continues. A father worries about his son, then the son grows up and worries about his ageing father. Life, death, and rebirth.
It was during the making of this film that I finally understood that, for the most part, even though my parents made mistakes, they acted with the best intentions. Thus the film is dedicated to them. As the film was nearing completion, the Burmese military staged a violent coup and began a new campaign of repression and killing. At the same time, the Palestinian people faced yet another onslaught with increasingly violent attempts to dispossess them and kill their spirit. This film is for the brave people of Burma and Palestine fighting for their liberation and dignity.