Narrative Justice: The Voice of Hind Rajab filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania on reenactment vs. reality—and why the two are inseparable

A photograph of Hind Rajab, whose true story is told in The Voice of Hind Rajab.
A photograph of Hind Rajab, whose true story is told in The Voice of Hind Rajab.

The Voice of Hind Rajab writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania talks to Mia Lee Vicino about the Letterboxd community’s embrace of her genre-fluid docudrama, which channels feelings of helplessness into one goal: to ensure Hind’s voice is heard.

When you feel helpless, you always ask yourself what you can do, and there is always something to do. I’m a filmmaker. I know how to make movies. So instead of being depressed and feeling helpless, I told myself I’d make a movie.

—⁠Kaouther Ben Hania

On January 29, 2024, a Palestinian family—including a five-year-old girl named Hind Rajab—was fleeing for their lives from Gaza City. After an Israeli Army tank shelled their car with hundreds of bullets, just Hind and her fifteen-year-old cousin, Layan Hamadeh, survived. While Layan was on the phone with the Palestine Red Crescent Society, pleading for emergency aid, the tank fired again, killing her. Hind was suddenly on her own, surrounded by her murdered family members, with only her cousin’s phone as a lifeline.

In The Voice of Hind Rajab, filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania takes us inside the Red Crescent call center and its efforts to save Hind’s life. While these employees are played by actors, the voice on the phone that we hear is the actual recording of Hind herself. Ben Hania’s devastating docudrama earned the Grand Jury Prize at this year’s Venice Film Festival—as well as a record-breaking 24-minute standing ovation—and currently holds a 4.3-star rating on Letterboxd, making it one of our community’s highest-rated features of 2025.

Perhaps best known previously for her 2023 Academy Award-nominated documentary Four Daughters—which employs reenactments and interviews to portray the radicalization and disappearance of two of a Tunisian mother’s four daughters—Ben Hania has been amplifying unjust, unimaginably horrific true stories such as Hind’s throughout her career. Her 2020 drama The Man Who Sold His Skin was also the first-ever Tunisian film to be nominated for an Oscar.

Another example: with her breakout 2017 sophomore feature Beauty and the Dogs, Ben Hania examines and interrogates the Tunisian justice system through the lens of a college-aged woman who, after being sexually assaulted by police officers, struggles to be taken seriously by the law and medical professionals, consistently stymied by policies designed to oppress and obfuscate. It’s told over the course of one tumultuous night, using a mere nine long takes.

That strong command of technical formalism—always fueled by a deep well of empathy—is on display in Voice, too. In our conversation below, Ben Hania discusses her fascination and frustration with these tyrannical bureaucracies, including the film industry’s own limiting labels of “narrative” vs. “documentary”, as well as how she honors and respects the real people in these stories while retaining creative freedom.


Actors play the real-life Red Crescent call center employees in The Voice of Hind Rajab.
Actors play the real-life Red Crescent call center employees in The Voice of Hind Rajab.

I wanted to start by asking if you’re familiar with Letterboxd?
Kaouther Ben Hania: I’m following and reading Letterboxd [reviews] every day, because the only feedback I have from my movie, when I’m in the avant-première, are compliments: “The movie’s great!” My dream was always to hear the audience talking when I’m not here. I found that in Letterboxd.

So you must know that Letterboxd members have been highly rating your feature—it’s one of our highest rated of the whole year. This response demonstrates a need for stories such as this one to be told—how does it feel to know that this film is not only being seen but being embraced all over the world?
This is the dream of any filmmaker. When I was doing this movie, my only obsession and idea was to make a movie that can make Hind’s voice echo everywhere. The first test was at Venice Film Festival, where we premiered the film, and the reception was so emotionally overwhelming and surreal, with this endless standing ovation. I was wondering how the audience would react to this movie, because in big festivals, you have a lot of press, but also professionals… [But then] having this [response] on Letterboxd, it’s like, as you say, there is something there. People want to hear this kind of story and they want to hear the voice of Hind Rajab—so I’m exceptionally, highly happy.

While I was reading through Letterboxd reviews, I noticed this real sense of helplessness from viewers. How did you harness that helplessness that they, that you, that Palestinians—above all—have been feeling as fuel to make this film?
Cinema has this powerful thing, which is empathy. You put yourself in the shoes of a character, and the characters I’m portraying, their job is to save lives. They want to save Hind’s life, but they can’t, so they have this feeling that we can feel all around the world toward what is happening in Gaza, which is helplessness. But it’s not a movie only about helplessness; it’s a movie about trying until the end and paying a very heavy price. It’s a movie about those heroes in humanitarian work, doing all that they can to save lives. I hope that a movie portraying the feeling of helplessness can push people to react and take action beyond this feeling.

Saja Kilani as Rana Hassan Faqih, Red Crescent call center employee.
Saja Kilani as Rana Hassan Faqih, Red Crescent call center employee.

Sadly and unjustly, there are so many tragic stories such as Hind Rajab’s. What called you to tell this one in particular?
I heard her voice. It was as simple as that. I couldn’t unhear it. I couldn’t do anything else. I was thinking about this little girl and I had this strong emotion and I [asked] myself, “What can I do?” When you feel helpless, you always ask yourself what you can do, and there is always something to do. I’m a filmmaker. I know how to make movies. So instead of being depressed and feeling helpless, I told myself I’d make a movie.

How did you collaborate with Hind’s family and the real-life people who worked in the Red Crescent call center to bring this story to life?
The first thing I did was call Hind’s mother, because without her agreement, concern and even blessing, I couldn’t do this movie. Because it’s her daughter; she was mourning. At the time, she was still in Gaza, and she was really sad, obviously. Wissam—her name—is a symbol of resilience, in a way. Quickly, we started talking. I couldn’t find the right words to console her because I couldn’t imagine her pain, but she told me, “I want justice for my daughter. If this movie can help in any way, please do it.”

And then, I talked a lot with the Red Crescent, the real heroes: Omar, Rana, Mahdi and Nisreen. They told me everything about that day. We tried to stay very close to what happened because I had the recording, but I was missing what was happening around the recording. They were real partners in this movie because they told me everything I needed to know. When I wrote the script, I sent it to them to have their feedback. All of the Red Crescent team, they were really great partners.

Every decision was hard, because you take into consideration that you are talking about a real little girl, Hind, that you have her voice pleading for life. The main idea from the beginning was how to honor her voice.

—⁠Kaouther Ben Hania

Let’s touch on reenactment, because it’s not the first time you’ve employed it. You used it with your last film, Four Daughters, but that was documentary, and this is more narrative with documentary elements. What made you want to continue using reenactment as a storytelling tool?
It was while questioning how I wanted to tell this story. When I heard [Hind’s] voice for the first time, I had this strong reaction—her voice was so immediate. It was in the present tense. “Come and save me.” It was now, right now. It was very important to go back to this moment and shoot it in the present tense, to be there at this moment with those Red Crescent employees, because their points of view are very important. They are those who are listening, those who are trying to save her. And how do you do this? You bring actors in order to go back [to that day].

At the same time, I needed to have this contract with the audience that those are actors trying to portray what happened at this moment. Behind this, they are actors and there is reality, so you have, in the movie, moments where they stop acting and they are just listening to the real voices. At some point, the acting goes away and we have this moment at the end where we see the real Red Crescent employees wondering what had just happened to their colleagues. It’s a convention to go back to this moment, but it’s also a way to tell the audience the reality is there.

Motaz Malhees as Omar A. Alqam and Rana communicate with Hind.
Motaz Malhees as Omar A. Alqam and Rana communicate with Hind.

It’s a fine balancing act between having the utmost respect and care for the subjects and the story, with taking cinematic and creative liberties. How did you walk that tightrope?
It’s very difficult. Every decision was hard, because you take into consideration that you are talking about a real little girl, Hind, that you have her voice pleading for life. The main idea from the beginning was how to honor her voice, how not to forget what happened to Hind and how Hind can become an example of the killing of the civilians, especially the children… to make a movie that is impactful and, at the same time, respects her memory and can be a call for change.

To do this, I thought in the beginning that maybe I’d do a documentary, what we call a “pure documentary”. It doesn’t exist, purity, in documentaries… So, [when] talking about an event in the past, you bring proof, because there was so much proof about the killing of Hind Rajab. Forensic Architecture did a great job of analyzing the recording, so someone could do a very investigative documentary about this crime.

But I told myself it’s not the perfect way to tell this story, because we already have investigations. Anybody can look at them. The Washington Post did a great investigation about Hind’s story, so all this proof exists. We will go beyond explaining. I need audiences around the world to be [immersed] in the truth of Palestinians, to feel, to be in their place, to understand the craziness of: what does it mean to be occupied? What does it mean to be dehumanized? What does it mean to be bombarded and killed?

[Narrative] cinema can do it with all those tools… And this movie, I can’t classify it right now… It’s a narrative with tissues of reality—woven into the reality—as if in the old tradition of storytelling, someone is telling you again what happened to Hind. Is it [completely] true? Any representation is, in a way, something that is different from what really happened. I hate separation between genres. I’m genre-fluid. Whatever tool can amplify the voice of Hind Rajab and can honor her memory was good to use for this movie.

Amer Hlehel as Mahdi M. Aljamal charts the rescue route.
Amer Hlehel as Mahdi M. Aljamal charts the rescue route.

Near the end of the movie, there’s that pivotal scene that speaks to what you’re saying about this hybrid of narrative and documentary. It’s the one where a character uses a cell phone to film a reenacted conversation happening in the background, but actual archival footage of the real Red Crescent employees’ conversation is being shown on the phone’s screen in the foreground, as if that’s what’s being filmed. It’s a fascinating transition, or collision, between those two worlds, that of real life and that of this film. Could you walk us through the filming and direction of that scene?
In the beginning, I asked Red Crescent to give me all the archival elements of that day, and they sent me this scene. In that scene, one of their colleagues was filming them after they heard the bombardment of the ambulance, and they were wondering what was happening. So it’s actually the end of the movie.

It was so important at this moment to forget about the acting and to open the archival door, to open what was recorded that day. Why? Because what just happened is something that you can’t believe. During the whole movie, they are trying to have a safe route from the Israeli Army, to get the green light. They are trying to respect all the procedures to protect their colleagues, so that they are not bombarded, can go save Hind and go back safely without being killed.

They received the green light, and we have, on the recording, the driver of the ambulance saying, “Ah, there she is.” He’s talking about the car. He’s meters away from the car, and at this moment, you hear the bombardment. They bombarded the ambulance, which is completely beyond imagination, beyond cruelty. So, I told myself, at this moment, I need to tell the audience that, yes, you have actors, but this is real, and I’ll show you how it’s real and why it’s real. And from this moment, we go back to the archival element, so we are with those Red Crescent employees.

I hope that this movie can help a movement of change, because we can’t live in a world where you can commit a crime and then go have a cocktail and live your life normally. 

—⁠Kaouther Ben Hania

I’m also curious, from a technical perspective, how you and the actors went about incorporating those real voice recordings into the performances. How did the actors time their actions and responses to the audio—were the recordings actually played on set?
The actors rehearsed the voices of their characters as they were recorded on the real recording. They learned by heart what the real character said, and they had Hind’s answers written in the screenplay.

During the shooting, we decided that I would have a sound engineer near me, that maybe their performances wouldn’t be in the same timing as the real character, because they can say things more quickly or for longer. The sound engineer next to me was sending Hind’s answers to their headset, so they were reacting to Hind’s voice. At some point, they stopped acting. It becomes [a part of] them… It wasn’t easy to tell them, “Repeat, please say it like this,” because I couldn’t direct them for this movie; the emotions were so high.

I had to find a technical solution for the actors, with my sound team, so their performances could be authentic in a way. They say something and Hind answers, and they react to Hind’s answer with their timing, with their breath… And that’s why you can see in the movie they aren’t acting. We shot it like a documentary, almost. We shot mainly long takes with the entire conversation.

You’ve touched on this idea of narrativizing a really infuriating, heartbreaking true story before with Beauty and the Dogs. Both that film and The Voice of Hind Rajab explore these frustrating hindrances of bureaucracy, of these systems built to complicate and obfuscate things for civilians—whether it be trying to report a violent crime or trying to save an innocent little girl.
I love [exploring] systems to understand how systems work because [the answer] is not written anywhere. But there is always a meaning, a meaning of oppression, especially. In Beauty and the Dogs, the system is written by men, by policemen, so it’s something about defending patriarchy. That’s why the system is so cruel, even if it can hide itself behind the rules and the law.

In the case of Hind Rajab, it’s the system of occupation. It’s set by design to make the life of Palestinians impossible, because the main idea is to oblige Palestinians to leave Palestine. [To tell them,] “It’s not their land. They have to immigrate elsewhere.” Since it’s a dominant system, it’s not like normal bureaucracy—it’s done by design to oppress. I’m very fascinated, as you mentioned, by the oppressive system. In these two cases, we have highly oppressive systems.

We keep talking about the hybrid narrative-documentary element of your film, but because it’s technically more narrative than traditional documentary, a wider audience might see it and the word may hopefully spread even further. Did that idea play at all into your decision to narrativize the story?
I’m a documentary filmmaker and it’s very sad to hear that, but it’s true that documentaries don’t have the reach that narrative films have. I always prefer documentaries, because, in my point of view, documentaries are films. But you are right: the fact that it’s technically—again, it’s a matter of institutional label—labeled as “narrative” will make it spread, so let it be!

This is one of the most thought-provoking films I’ve seen all year—what thoughts are you hoping that it provokes in audiences, especially for people who may have been unfamiliar with Hind’s story?
When I called Hind’s mother, she talked about justice, and we know that justice and accountability are not around the corner. I hope that this movie can help a movement of change, because we can’t live in a world where you can commit a crime and then go have a cocktail and live your life normally. It’s not a good perspective for the next generation. I hope that this movie can participate in that change. On Letterboxd, actually, I saw many people saying, “Oh, it’s a hard watch.” I want to tell them, “Yes, maybe it’s not a comfortable movie, but think about the people living this. You are just watching it, so do something about it.”


The Voice of Hind Rajab’ is now playing in select US cinemas, courtesy of WILLA.

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