Meet Reem Jubran, One of the 5 Winners of the 6th Annual Focus Features & JetBlue Student Short Film Showcase

The Gotham Film & Media Institute announced that Reem Jubran’s short film Don’t Be Long, Little Bird is one of five works chosen by a special jury of filmmakers, curators, and critics for the Focus Features & JetBlue Student Short Film Showcase. Created as her MFA thesis film for the University of California, Los Angeles, Don’t Be Long, Little Bird was selected from a pool of projects from a wide range of graduate film programs.

In Don’t Be Long, Little Bird, a young Rima (Banna Bazzarie) is unwillingly whisked in time from today’s California to 1930s ancestral Palestine, where she is found by her great-grandmother. On her quest to find her way back to the present, she learns a few valuable lessons on the way.

We asked Jubran to tell us a little about the inspiration for her film, the artists who influenced her, and her plans for the future.

Follow her on Instagram @reemjub and the film at @dontbelonglittlebird.

Where did the idea for Don’t Be Long, Little Bird come from?

The initial idea came after the passing of my beloved grandmother, Nellie Jamila Ajlouni Saba. She was not only one of my favorite people in the world but my direct line to Palestine. I essentially wrote this film out of my heartfelt wish to talk to her again. When she was my age, she was raising a family of four as refugees in Libya, where my grandfather relocated to after being exiled from his home in 1948, Lydda, Palestine. At my age, she had already overcome unimaginable hardships: the Nakba, entering an arranged marriage at the will of her mother, and leaving her beloved town of Ramallah to start a family with a stranger (my dear grandfather) in Benghazi, Libya.

As I grow older, my longing to talk to her grows. As I build my relationship with Palestine, the more I feel the void where my grandmother should be. All of this led me to write this film for her, as well as in honor of my paternal grandmother, who was married at 17 and plucked from her village in Syria and never looked back. I come from a lineage of women separated from their families at a young age, which makes me wonder, if I could talk to my grandmothers now, what would I tell them? What would I learn from them? These questions lead me to reflect on my own life, my own privilege, and whether I am making the most of my life considering all the matrilineal sacrifices. The final reason I wrote this film is that I want more Palestinian youth from the diaspora to return to Palestine. I believe it is a necessity and a duty to keep our connection to our ancestral Palestine alive—in honor of the sacrifice of our ancestors and the plight of today’s survival, and in order to set a good example for the future generations of Palestinians around the world. The right of return is possible within our lifetime—the dream just needs to reimagine the past towards a new future.

How did you find your cast?

I found my cast primarily through community and open calls on social media. Don’t Be Long, Little Bird is the first film where I had the luxury of time to put effort into casting. On smaller projects in film school, I struggled to tell my stories due to the utter lack of Arab representation in the Hollywood/Los Angeles area. For me, prioritizing authenticity and ethnic accuracy is non-negotiable, especially if the story is centered around identity in any form. I hope my work encourages other emerging filmmakers in the United States to avoid following mainstream trends and reverse the damage that Hollywood has inflicted historically on Black, ethnic, and Arab people through decades of racist portrayals in American cinema and television.

I had the absolute privilege of having an all-Palestinian and all-female cast. Casting the role of the Lost One was the most important and difficult part of the process because of the character’s profile: I was looking for a Palestinian woman who was born and raised in the US, speaks Arabic well, and relates to the character in the sense that she has already established her return and connection to Palestine. Thankfully, I have a best friend, Banna Bazzarie, who is a natural non-actor and was a perfect fit for the role. The search for the Lost One’s identity was not a character story we had to build from scratch. Instead, we were able to tap into the truth behind Bazzarie’s personal story and my style of storytelling. There is beauty and lessons to be learned in working with non-actors, especially when casting Palestinians in the United States. I leaned on my study of Italian neorealism, Arab cinema, and non-Western, New Wave cinematic movements to guide my approach.

In the final film, what most captures what you saw in your mind when you first imagined the story?

The beauty of Palestine’s nature and the impact it can have on you while watching the film. Palestine is the most beautiful land with the most beautiful people and I wanted to capture that essence so that the world can truly understand who we are.

How much of the film was shot in Palestine, and what was it like to shoot your story there?

The scenes with Rima, the Lost One, and Rima’s Mother at the beginning and the end were shot in Ojai, California. As soon as Rima, the Lost One, walks away from her mother, we arrive at footage shot in Palestine. I intentionally treated the two geographical locations with fogginess and open interpretation to set the tone for a surrealistic time-travel adventure.

We shot in Palestine for 3 and a half days and a day and a half in Ojai. Shooting my story in Palestine was truly a dream come true. I’ve spent the past 10 years building towards shooting my dream movie there, and it was a remarkable experience for me. I was supported by five Palestinian members of my friends and family who flew with me from California, as well as my friends, adopted family, and talented film crew in Palestine. I also felt creatively connected to my message to my grandmother, to the land, and simply guided by the story itself. They say life imitates art, but in this case, art was imitating life. I was the Lost One who found direction.

What was the biggest lesson learned working on Don’t Be Long, Little Bird?

The biggest lesson I learned was that going into any project that is beyond your comfort zone requires a huge attitude adjustment. I kept telling myself, “Go big or go home.” Big, at that time, translated to giving the project all of the chances, all of the risks, and all of the gambles. I learned that when a project or script calls to your insides so distinctly and profoundly, it is your job as the creator to give it as much space and as many resources as possible.

As an emerging filmmaker, who are your influences?

The people who influenced me in my filmmaking are those around me in my life who push me to be a better person. They are my artist, writer, filmmaker, and farmer friends in Palestine who teach me the meaning of freedom. My surf community in Southern California teaches me discipline and respect for nature. And the people that influence me daily are those who sacrifice a conformist, comfortable life in dedication to their art and truth. The artists I like to surround myself with are the ones who don’t fit into any agenda or social construct. I respect people who constantly strive to keep art true, pure, disturbing, and raw.

What was the first film you saw that made you want to be a filmmaker?

It’s impossible to narrow it down to a single film that influenced my decision to become a filmmaker, so allow me to share a bit of backstory. My entire family shares a love for cinema: my dad is a cinephile, my aunt founded the Festival, and my uncles have passed down their old film cameras to me. Growing up in this environment, I was introduced to Palestinian cinema through Annemarie Jacir’s films when I was 15. Witnessing her story of living in an American diaspora and returning to Palestine affirmed to me that my story was worth telling, too, that there was more than one way to communicate one’s truth. Around that time, I was introduced to Tarsem’s The Fall by my high school physics teacher. He projected the movie on a Friday night against the wall of the science building. This screening changed something in me because I had finally found a film that boggled my mind through every artistic element: complex storytelling, magnificent cinematography, fantastic emotional journey, original and creative costume design, and excellent sound and music choices—the list goes on. That was the official start of my commitment to filmmaking. Something clicked, and I knew that filmmaking combined my favorite things: music, painting, fashion design, dramatics, and photography.

Are you working on a feature film?

I’m excited to share that I’m currently developing the feature version of Don’t Be Long, Little Bird. It’s going to be quite different from the short film, but the general concept of a Palestinian-American time traveling to the past remains intact.

I’m going to use this film as an opportunity to dive deeper into the colors of emotion, the history, and the folktales of ancestral Palestine as my canvas. I recognize that I am heading in the opposite direction of where the brave, talented filmmakers of Palestine are going today, which is capturing reality through documentary film or cinematic realism. I look up to them and I hope they will continue doing their incredibly important work in sharing the truth to a world that silences our voice. For me, as an outsider with generational roots in California since 1979, I want to dive deeper into my version of Palestine, that of an exiled Palestinian living in the diaspora, whose Palestine is a bit foggy and based in nostalgia, archives, and oral stories from their elders. I look forward to sharing more about how rewarding it’s been after 15 years of fighting a strong current to assimilate and surrender to a fully Americanized identity.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.