Sometime in the winter of 2015, as the refugee crisis deepened in Europe, German Chancellor Angela Merkel said, “Every person who comes is a human being and has the right to be treated as such.” Such is the vision and the foundation of Ben Sharrock’s Limbo, showcased at the 64th London Film Festival under the journey strand.
Limbo tells the story of Omar (Amir El-Masry), a young Syrian musician who has taken the perilous journey through Europe and is housed in the Hebridean wilderness in Scotland as he awaits the decision of his asylum. Surrounded by eager and alienated fellow refugees, he has to balance the hopeful prospects of a land of freedom and opportunities all the while facing the harsh realities of what it means to be a refugee on British soil.
For the most part, Sharrock delivers on a style of deadpan comedy reminiscent of Yorgos Lanthimos, building on scenes of absurdity and satire to highlight the almost comical treatment of the situations refugees are placed in. The painfully awkward social etiquette classes and the hilarity in the congregations of the close-knit refugees are some of Limbo’s greatest potentials to tread a fine line between clashing themes. An overall infusion of tone that fails to develop into something more profound; unfortunately the comical and the tragic fall flat in complementing each other.
While the balance between the two doesn’t always work, there are some genuine laugh out loud moments that are heavily reliant on the talents of the fantastic cast. Indeed, Omar’s onscreen friendship with fellow refugee Farhad (Vikash Bhai) is a tender, joyful centerpiece that I doubt will fail to bring a smile to viewers’ faces.
But for all the heartfelt hilarities that ensue onscreen lies a deeper truth that Sharrock has explored impressively here. It’s one of identity, isolation, bigotry, and nationalism; for Omar’s story isn’t simply a fictitious one set to entertain. More accurately, it’s a reflection of the singular experience of societal alienation and fear of the other rooted deep in British culture and its institutions. A recurring scene showing the refugees being taught to assimilate into British culture is simply heartbreaking; not so much that it shines a light on the tone of condescension used to integrate refugees into society, but more importantly that it’s a current reality for thousands.
Limbo is by and large an exploration of the Scottish highlands just as much as the struggles of the refugees seeking shelter in the weather-beaten community. Sharrock’s use of wide and still shots of the Scottish wilderness is outstanding in that regard. After all, it’s just as much a misgiving of society to not only treat the other in such a hostile manner, but to house the most vulnerable in extreme remoteness; Omar is virtually hidden from the world outside, pushed aside, and ostracized for having sought a new life.
For all the intricate explorations of social themes, there are elements of Limbo that feel rather exploitative. None more so than the use of Farhad’s character. A gay refugee caught on the precipice of a new life, Farhad has to ultimately reconcile his sexuality with his friendships; the only threads of support he has in the harsh, deserted Highlands. As far-reaching and promising as this may be at first, Limbo fails to capitalize on it and what could have been a powerful exploration of the queer refugee experience is sidelined and made into a token narrative that is barely developed.
However, Sharrock should be commended for intricately exploring the dichotomy of a societal push and pull that is significant in scope and damaging on a personal level. Limbo was always going to be a tricky feat to pull off in terms of the themes and the tone it balances but it may have indeed succeeded, even if it comes in the form of compromising the exploration of further-reaching issues.
