‘Get out of there – run away!’ A heartwarming film about a love that grows amid the slaughter of Aleppo | Documentary films

Tthe air is thick with smoke and dust, the ground is littered with the twisted remains of burning cars. Children scream and sirens wail as activist and videographer Abd Alkader Habak rushes to help the injured after being bombed by refugees. Aleppo during the civil war in Syria in 2017. On Habaki’s phone, the sound of a voice is coming out. “My bird, are you okay?” said BBC reporter Janay Boulos. “Get out of there, run away.”

For more than a year, Habaki and Boulos have been working to recruit the Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assadcruel to his people, their connection is always growing even though they are far apart. But this transition represents a time when the relationship between the two changes from being friends to something else. “I don’t want visuals,” says Boulos, the fear clear in his voice as he tries to track things down at his desk in London. “I don’t want anything, please be careful, I’m here whenever you want to talk.”

War Birds, out this week in the UK, is the extraordinary story of how Lebanese journalist Boulos and Syrian freedom fighter Habaki found each other in the face of change, war and hostile borders, told using 13 old documents and the family’s audio recordings, selfies, video calls and text messages.

“At first I wanted to make a documentary about Lebanon and the war and everything that is happening there now,” says Boulos, who, along with Habaki, directed the film. “But the more we think about it, the more history and politics and current events, to make it sound, we have to say it from our point of view.”

Cell phones and the Internet have made the war stories of the first human beings the literature of the 21st century. more about very much nice written notes from the siege of Aleppo, and about the conflict in Syria and its aftermath.

But interestingly, despite its title, War Birds isn’t just about war: it’s a vivid portrait of what it means to be Syrian or Lebanese at this critical time in the Middle East. It defines what it means to be – to each other, to a cause, to a tribe, a city, a country – and the hopes and fears that accompany these relationships.

Watching Habak and Boulos’ love grow, and the couple’s struggles to stay together, is very touching. The film won a special jury award for its impact on journalism at its premiere at Sundance, it also received awards at the Thessaloniki, Seattle and Visions du Réel film festivals.

Not long after the bombings, with the help of smugglers, Habaki was able to make the dangerous journey out of Syria, across the Turkish border. Boulos flew to visit her and just a few months later they decided to get married – something Boulos kept from his disapproving parents until the film premiered earlier this year.

Habaki said: “It was unbelievable to me. “For this man to come from London to see me, a man from a war zone with nothing to give.” He left Syria with nothing but his camera, hard drives and clothes behind him. The filmmaker, who now lives with Boulos in London, initially wanted to return. “I don’t know who I will be, without Aleppo to fight for,” he told her at the time.

Going to meet Habak in Turkey was “absurd”, says Boulos. “It was a harmless chat online – but it turned into something real. I cared about her and her safety and I felt really guilty. I thought, ‘I’m in London. I spent many nights when she was offline and I thought, ‘Where is she? Is she OK?’ We had started talking for a long time and I realized that I really like this man when we met in Turkey.”

Warbirds perfectly captures this disturbing story of modern war journalism. During the first exchange of messages, Habaki asked Boulos: “Who are you?” At first, they just say they are from the BBC. Meanwhile, Boulos, in his search for photos from the city, has passed his second or third number. Trust and familiarity grow as the weeks and months pass.

“They talk to me as they see me, not as a story, not a story,” Habaki thinks on TV. At one point, Boulos leaves the words: “You are more than a story to me.” The two begin to use pet names – bird, my bird, little bird – creatures that, unlike the ones we love, can leave borders and military boundaries behind.

Like Boulos, I also covered the siege of Aleppo from afar. Every day, I looked at the front lines and where the bombs fell real time mapsharing messages and voice notes with civilians and activists, getting to know a place and its people intimately, but through a screen. The document is the best picture I have come across of the weakness and guilt that those of us on the other side of the shaky internet feel when friends and loved ones in the besieged and closed areas are going through the flames.

Shortly after Habak joined him in London, Boulos left the BBC and the pair set up Habak Films, an independent film company focusing on Lebanon, Syria and the wider region. “It’s difficult when people are being killed every day,” says Boulos, referring to the Israel-Hezbollah war. “You want to go back, you want to help, but you realize that there is not enough help that you can give in the world. It made me see my responsibility. I am lucky (to be) in London, so let’s be this company that connects the voices of Lebanon and Syria to Western audiences and news organizations.

Warbirds is careful not to highlight Habakkuk’s violence and suffering in Syria, as well as what the two have written since Lebanon. The filmmakers deliberately chose not to show anything vivid, or to amplify the sounds of explosions or explosions. The writing process was supported by comments from psychotherapist Rebecca Day, who has a history of writing.

“For a long time, I didn’t want to look at my hard drives from Syria,” says Habak who, with Day, came up with what he calls “the traffic analysis system”. As Habaki sat for weeks looking through his stories, he marked them in green for pictures that were safe to use, orange for pictures that might be disturbing, and red for pictures that didn’t need to be included. He said: “Making this film has helped me a lot.

Pictures of doctors dealing with the number of casualties from the bombing in Aleppo meet a man tending his roof garden, or friends laughing in their house. The bleakness of dusty and silent Syria contrasts with the sparkling blue Mediterranean when Boulos and Habaki meet in Turkey and go paragliding – like birds.

“We talk a lot about the responsibility that filmmakers have to their source and characters,” says Day, “but it’s also important to remember the mindset of the filmmaker: what you want as a filmmaker and as a person? filmmakers, but they don’t have to carry it themselves.”

The film ends shortly after Habaki unexpectedly returns home for the first time in many years, after the Syrian opposition ousts Assad from power in a dramatic manner at the end of 2024. But, for all of this, the future of Syria and Lebanon is uncertain. And as War Birds makes clear, uncertainty is a matter of life for the people living in the countries where the films are made, who are faced with constant unrest and violence.

“How long can we continue doing this?” Boulos asks Habak in one message from Beirut. “Until the wars are over,” he replies.