MOSUL: In Iraq, Heroes Don’t Wear Spandex

The problematic (and mercurial) relationship between Iraq and the United States reached its boiling point when the latter invaded the former in 2003, under the pretense of bringing democracy to the country. During the invasion and under U.S. occupation, Iraq suffered numerous cases of abuse, murder (including the Nissour square massacre by the Blackwater mercenaries) and torture, as well as extensive damage to its infrastructure, leaving many traumatised citizens filled with more dread than hope.

While it maintained a functional (but corrupt) government after the capture and execution of tyrant Saddam Hussein, Iraq quickly found itself at the mercy of multiple terrorist factions, including Al Qaeda and ISIS. ISIS (aka Daesh), murdered, raped, and stole from the country until they lost the war in December 2017. Among the factions that battled the insurgency to regain control of the country was the Nineveh SWAT team, who were comprised of natives of Mosul (the sons of Mosul rather).

Written and directed by the politically-minded Matthew Michael Carnahan, Mosul is a dramatisation of the true events documented in a February 2017 article for the New Yorker entitled The Desperate Battle To Destroy ISIS.  Towards the end of the Iraqi Civil War, a young Kurdish police officer, Kawa (Adam Bessa) loses his uncle in a shootout with ISIS forces, before he is saved by the Nineveh SWAT team (a rogue unit), led by the hardened Major Jasem (Suhail Dabbach). Seeing that the young rookie is fit to join his team (the prerequisites state you have to have either been wounded by ISIS or lost a family member to them), Jasem recruits Kawa to liberate Mosul from ISIS forces, as they embark on a somewhat clandestine mission.

An Iraqi Neo-Western

The opening of the film showcases the ruins of Mosul, with blocks of destroyed structures and roads, filled with dirt and rubble. What was once part of an ancient civilisation that boasted a rich mythology and history, has practically become a post-apocalyptic wasteland, bereft of culture, heritage and identity.

Ever since 9/11 (if not before), the Middle East and Iraq have become places of myth in Western cinema and media. The stuff of legends. A faraway land that provided journalists and soldiers innumerable stories that often painted less than flattering portraits of the people and their culture. Mosul may be one of the rare examples (thus far) where an American production told a “Middle East” story that would be equally accessible to audiences in the Middle East and in the West.

Co-produced by the Russo Brothers (Avengers: Endgame) and Iraqi filmmaker Mohammed Al Daradji (Son of Babylon), Mosul is, first and foremost, a genre film rather than a docudrama; it has more in common with the films of John Carpenter (particularly Escape from New York) than it does with Mohammed Diab‘s Clash (2016) or any of Daradji‘s films for that matter. That isn’t meant as a slight against Mosul or genre cinema, but it is important to note that the film in question does not cover the full extent of the political landscape in 21st century Iraq. It is, however, more interested in exploring the consequences of Islamic fundamentalism, U.S. occupation, various battles and wars, and the interests of other parties through the prism of the “men on a mission” sub-genre.

While this has action scenes throughout the film, they serve something deeper, and thus can’t be exclusively labelled as an “action film”.

Carnahan tells the story within the framework of something akin to a western, playing on the idea that post-2003 Iraq is going through its own “reconstruction” and “old west” periods, much like its invaders did after the American Civil War. Quietly referencing films like John Ford‘s Stagecoach (1939) & The Searchers (1956), as well as neo-westerns like the Coen Brothers‘ adaptation of No Country for Old Men (2007), the film portrays moments made familiar by the media coverage over the previous two decades:

Children orphaned by the chaos. Police checkpoints. Car bombs. Corrupt officials. Militarised vehicles patrolling the streets. Victims of rape. Abandoned houses filled with bloodied skeletal remains.

In terms of genre cinema, what is illuminated is the inherent anarchic spirit of the land (in spite of a ruling governmental body), where numerous factions reaped what they could for their own interests. It harkens back to more ancient times, where individuals upheld the law, gangs controlled territories, and precious commodities (cigarettes and weapons in this case) are bartered or traded (as people make deals even across rooftops). Money becomes an important tool of the trade in order to navigate through the combat zone. Effectively, these familiar gestures and symbols in the history of cinema (westerns or otherwise) allow the Iraq of Mosul to be relatable to a universal audience.

The Core

While numerous films attempted to give a more accurate realisation of Iraq during the invasion and onwards, including Paul Greengrass‘s Green Zone (2010), they mostly suffered from reducing an Iraqi’s plight to support the Western protagonist’s character arc. While admittedly Mosul is heavier on plot than on character, the members of the Nineveh SWAT team are not without heart or personality to accompany their overall philosophy.

Kawa is the archetypal young rookie, who, two months into joining the police force, firmly believes by the books and attempts to arrest ISIS militants. Right from the word go, Adam Bessa plays him like a man unprepared for the dangers that await him, especially when he is caught smack in the middle amidst a hail of bullets. His naivety is our way into the complex puzzle that is post-2003 Iraq, especially since he isn’t someone who prides himself on killing any of his enemies. It’s the strong influence of Major Jasem that forces Kawa to quickly learn the ropes in an Iraq that hasn’t had any real semblance of proper law and order since the days of Saddam Hussein (some call that tragic irony).

The phenomenal actor Suhail Dabbach plays Jasem like a figure out of film noir, with the charisma and intimidating presence of Robert Mitchum (the piercing stare means business), and a demeanour that oozes badassery. He’s a veteran who’s witnessed the harsh nature of war and sees through the bullshit. He’s a pragmatic person who knows how to play with the rules and what to do when it comes down to money and weaponry in order to follow his mission through. He’s also someone who’s not above showing his emotional, sensitive side, which gives us someone who knows his limitations and weaknesses.

Despite not being an Arab, Carnahan (with the aid of Daradji‘s involvement) manages to inject a great deal of authenticity, not just in crafting a story from the Iraqi perspective, but in the manner in which the characters communicate with one another. Owing to a history of customs and good relations, Arabs have always had a familiarity and personable nature when they speak with one another, even amongst strangers.

In a scene where the SWAT team tries to rescue two lone boys on the street, Jasem pleads to the reluctant of the brothers to join him and his men to safety. Sure, it may be natural to be kind to a child and treat them as one of your own, but there is a cadence and familiarity in the words Dabbach uses that makes you feel secure with the fact that Jasem is one of the good guys. In fact, despite his brotherly behaviour (including arguing or lashing out), he serves as a surrogate father to Kawa and the rest of the Nineveh SWAT team, and the reverence they each hold for him becomes evident throughout the film.

As dark and serious as the film can get, there are beautiful moments of levity, which bring colour to what could have been a bleak picture. There’s a scene in an abandoned house where the squad takes some time to recuperate, while they treat themselves to a Kuwaiti soap opera on television (joking about the number of wives a character has). In these moments, the characters never forget that they are in the middle of a battle, but instead try to treasure these little moments as they come, giving the film humanity and spirit. Even characters swearing during serious moments can garner a chuckle from those who understand Arabic.

While the characters are Muslims, and are quite devoted to their faith (with the squad reading “Al Fatiha” for the dead and performing afternoon prayers), Mosul views them through a humanist lens, and they don’t do this for any celestial reward in the afterlife. Jasem constantly mentions the importance of rebuilding Iraq, even to the boys he encounters in the film. What Jasem tries to instill in his comrades is the idea that Iraq as a whole matters more than their lives. It’s why they fight.

Since Kawa is the film’s chief protagonist, Mosul misses an opportunity to allow his character the proper growth a character arc would benefit from. It opts to play out the action over the course of a single day (something which worked well in 2012’s fascism satire Dredd), and packs in a number of hefty, overwhelming set-pieces. It literally is a film about going from point A to point B, and is quite experiential to say the least, but it suffers from giving Kawa the fast-tracked wisdom he seems to earn (as is the case with many “one day” scenarios in cinema).

That’s not to say that the emotional points in the script are clinical, as this remains to be a heartfelt film to the end. The issue is that while we get to know Major Jasem as a fully-realised character, Kawa is mostly passive (even secondary) character until certain plot beats demand him to be otherwise. Perhaps it is intentional that Major Jasem should come off as a legend while Kawa sponges off what he can of his leadership. Jasem is almost like the superhero Batman, warning people who threaten to sabotage his mission (or betray the well-being of children) with “I’ll know it was you” (unlike Batman though, Jasem has no qualms in executing his enemies).

The escalation of the plot also robs us of a chance to truly feel the effects of ISIS. We hear their explicit threats on the radio, we see them ambush citizens and police forces alike (and even perform executions on iPhone videos), but they don’t necessarily come off as the chaotic, monstrous entity that ravaged the Middle East. Aside from what we hear about them in dialogue, they could be any generic movie terrorist.

What Carnahan creates is a sense of paranoia that harkens back to the cinema of the Cold War, where you don’t know whose side any given person is on. Mistrust is aplenty, and rightfully so. Iraq as a whole became an obsession of numerous parties, especially when it came down to its wealth of resources. It is that aspect that makes this film a worthy addition to the post-9/11 cinema.

Crafting the War Zone

Carnahan and production designer Phillip Ivey have painted a convincing portrait of Iraq during the Civil War, with a cold unforgiving atmosphere and a sense of danger lurking around the corner. Even so, they do not demonise Iraqis and take the trouble to show scenes of civilians who try to live through these violent times, or even finding themselves without homes at encampments. As a director, Carnahan ensures that each of the primary SWAT members has a moment to shine, and function as a capable unit. In addition to Bessa and Dabbach, the actors of give impressive performances and lend a weighty credibility to their respective characters in the SWAT team (even if it becomes obvious that not every Arab is Kurdish or Iraqi).

Cinematographer Mauro Fiore captures a ferocity and intensity with the more angst-ridden sequences, ensuring that the violence doesn’t look pretty and the hand-held photography creates a level of urgency. He balances those out with intimate shots of the squad at their most peaceful, or inside their iconic looking vehicle as they maneuver through dangerous locations. The sound design allows us to feel the life and troublesome circumstances of the city, while also achieving potency in quieter moments of stealth.  It is all held together by Alex Rodriguez‘s tight editing, which somehow allows the more chaotic scenes to feel comprehensive.

Henry Jackman‘s score gives this film a life of its own, mixing hauntingly tense strings with emotional beats that recall the music of Ryuichi Sakamoto.

Revisionist Cinematic Myths

Regarding the writing of Mosul, Carnahan has a lot on his mind and tries to explore a number of ideas. While it doesn’t dive into much of Iraq’s internal politics and demographics, Mosul has a dialogue about the bigger picture. Namely, where does Iraq’s stand in the world after being poked and prodded by American foreign policy and terrorism?

In some ways, some of the dialogue exchanged in Mosul is a metatextual commentary about Arab representation in Western cinema and media.

As documented in the late scholar Jack Shaheen‘s legendary book Reel Bad Arabs, Arabs (like other minorities) were largely misrepresented or under-utilised in Hollywood in the 20th century, and the confusion only deepened after 9/11.  Films like Rendition (2007) and Iron Man (2008) resorted to the condescending white saviour trope, while 2007’s The Kingdom (also written by Carnahan) did little in the way of illuminating the misunderstood nature of an Arab country in troubled times. Perhaps the most damning offence is when certain films propagated an ultranationalist sensibility, as was the case with Clint Eastwood‘s American Sniper (2015), a film whose thesis seemed to revolve around the notion that even an Iraqi family inviting you for a home-cooked Eid dinner could be terrorists.

Let’s be honest, it wasn’t that cool or funny when Chuck Norris blew away Lebanese terrorists in Menahem Golan‘s The Delta Force (1986), so why did we need to be subject to caricatures and dismissive portrayals after 9/11?

In Mosul, Major Jasem encounters the Iranian Colonel Kaveh Afsahani (played by the charming Waleed Elgadi) who’s ostensibly offering logistical support to the militia. In a tense argument (and especially with provocative reference to the Sykes-Picot Agreement), Jasem blasts the colonel for being part of Iraq’s problem; where multiple parties meddle in the country’s affairs when they desire an Iraq that doesn’t involve Saddam, terrorists, the West or Iran (there’s also the irony of the colonel using an American rifle with NATO ammo). In another scene when the SWAT are rethinking their strategy to overtake an ISIS base, Jasem rejects the proposal to call for an American airstrike, arguing that the U.S. flattens everything because they don’t have anything to rebuild.

These arguments make it clear that Iraq as a nation is still reeling from the wounds of colonial intervention and power, but it’s fighting to revitalise its spirit. To forget the past, accept its set of circumstances, and push forward.

The relationship between terrorism in Iraq and U.S. foreign policy has often broached the “chicken or the egg” question, in so far as what caused what to occur first?

While 9/11 hurt both the Middle East and the West in more ways than one, it also distorted the image of Arabs and muslims in the media. So much so that we were not strong characters in Hollywood lore. We were aggressive and angry and we were vengeful, and, more often than not, we were victims needing to be rescued. Even with beautiful gems such as Tom McCarthy‘s The Visitor (2007) shedding light on the harsh truths behind the war on terror, we didn’t get the platform we deserved for strong voices to have their say regarding our representation.

Why should we (for example) have to deal with images of Iron Man flying to Afghanistan to take down the terrorists, only for him to fly away and leave Afghanis to clean up the mess that he (practically) created in the first place?

Throughout Mosul, Major Jasem cleans up the rubbish off of the floors of whichever location he’s in, which serves as a neat parallel to his constant talk of rebuilding. It’s not just a metaphor for ridding the world of terrorists. It’s not just about controlling our own narratives without the influence of the West. It’s about rebuilding our image for the world to see.

Conclusion

While far from perfect, the film is an effective look into a country ravaged by war and constantly searching for hope. Even if you find yourself wanting more out of the experience, Mosul offers a humanising look at post-2003 Iraq, with a powerful Oscar-worthy performance from Iraqi actor Suhail Dabbach.

In Kathryn Bigelow‘s The Hurt Locker (2008), Dabbach gave one of the most heartbreaking performances ever put to screen in a post-9/11 cinema. In the scene, he was a man fitted with a suicide bomber’s vest, needing to be rescued by American soldiers, and you are left wondering whose fault it was that he was in that predicament to begin with. How fitting that a decade later, he should finally play someone who doesn’t need saving.

Have you seen Mosul? What did you think? Tell us your thoughts in the comments below!

Mosul was released by Netflix worldwide on November 26th, 2020. For all international releases, click here.

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