Kermit the Frog famously sang, "It's not easy being green", a sentiment with which our politicians would doubtless agree, and Toby Jones' character in Leave to Remain would doubtless add its not easy being a liberal either. For in this almost documentary like drama he perjures himself so that a shady character, possibly Taliban, possibly not, can remain in the UK whilst the chances of a more deserving character appear to go up in smoke because her persecution is "only" domestic.
Leave to remain is a category of residence in the UK open to people whose claims for refugee status have failed but who have been in the UK sufficiently long and who have established sufficient connections with the country. It is a discretionary grant, and therefore open to all the vagueries of judicial interpretation and political whimsicality you would expect. The film focuses on a group of minors attending a centre known as "Paradise", and to some of them it must seem thus, as they wait to find out whether they have been granted leave to remain. Omar (Noof Ousellam) is a bit of a tricky character. He is dishonest about his origins, changing them to suit the prevailing political climate. It seems he may have a dark past, but he is so good at the patter that he can even turn this into granting him the necessary victim status. He manages to convince the rather dour immigration judge (who sits in a very strangely arranged court and is addressed, wrongly, as "Your Honour"). Meanwhile, his terrified victim Abdul (Zarrien Masieh) is tortured, for a second time, by being not only living with his former tormentor butby a disbelieving British establishment. Alongside this is the story of Zizidi (Yasmin Mwanza) who is fleeing domestic violence and sexual abuse.
I liked this film very much. I was expecting a rather clichéd liberal portrayal of immigration (with which I do not, incidentally, dissent from). However it was far more challenging. In the character of Omar we are forced not only to confront that not everybody seeking refugee status is genuine, but we are also forced to think about the contortions that refugees themselves have to go through to put across their case and to get safety – for as Zazidi shows putting forward the truth might leave you falling foul of some obscure loophole and being deported. Whatever Omar has done, and this is never resolved, would he have done it if he grew up in a safe, just and tolerant society? (The phrase, if it seems odd, is one of the Home Office's own). What are our obligations to people whose abuse is "only" domestic? Is this affected by whether they are former colonies whose whole social system we upended for our own economic gain, then abandoned? Should a liberal stick to platitudes about the rule of law, administered here on a spectrum from cold indifference to outright hostility, or should s/he intervene even if this goes against liberal tenets of truth and due process? On top of this the film is quite brilliantly acted. Many of the actors were first timers, and indeed many were themselves waiting to find out if they had leave to remain. The imagery in the film, some of it being the standard trope of the refugee film (people being stopped by the police, afraid of traffic wardens) to the religious symbolism of refugees putting on a nativity play was quite brilliant. On top of this, the cinematography bringing out the beauty of landscape both urban and rural and being highly sensitive to colour, was quite astounding.
Leave to remain is a category of residence in the UK open to people whose claims for refugee status have failed but who have been in the UK sufficiently long and who have established sufficient connections with the country. It is a discretionary grant, and therefore open to all the vagueries of judicial interpretation and political whimsicality you would expect. The film focuses on a group of minors attending a centre known as "Paradise", and to some of them it must seem thus, as they wait to find out whether they have been granted leave to remain. Omar (Noof Ousellam) is a bit of a tricky character. He is dishonest about his origins, changing them to suit the prevailing political climate. It seems he may have a dark past, but he is so good at the patter that he can even turn this into granting him the necessary victim status. He manages to convince the rather dour immigration judge (who sits in a very strangely arranged court and is addressed, wrongly, as "Your Honour"). Meanwhile, his terrified victim Abdul (Zarrien Masieh) is tortured, for a second time, by being not only living with his former tormentor butby a disbelieving British establishment. Alongside this is the story of Zizidi (Yasmin Mwanza) who is fleeing domestic violence and sexual abuse.
I liked this film very much. I was expecting a rather clichéd liberal portrayal of immigration (with which I do not, incidentally, dissent from). However it was far more challenging. In the character of Omar we are forced not only to confront that not everybody seeking refugee status is genuine, but we are also forced to think about the contortions that refugees themselves have to go through to put across their case and to get safety – for as Zazidi shows putting forward the truth might leave you falling foul of some obscure loophole and being deported. Whatever Omar has done, and this is never resolved, would he have done it if he grew up in a safe, just and tolerant society? (The phrase, if it seems odd, is one of the Home Office's own). What are our obligations to people whose abuse is "only" domestic? Is this affected by whether they are former colonies whose whole social system we upended for our own economic gain, then abandoned? Should a liberal stick to platitudes about the rule of law, administered here on a spectrum from cold indifference to outright hostility, or should s/he intervene even if this goes against liberal tenets of truth and due process? On top of this the film is quite brilliantly acted. Many of the actors were first timers, and indeed many were themselves waiting to find out if they had leave to remain. The imagery in the film, some of it being the standard trope of the refugee film (people being stopped by the police, afraid of traffic wardens) to the religious symbolism of refugees putting on a nativity play was quite brilliant. On top of this, the cinematography bringing out the beauty of landscape both urban and rural and being highly sensitive to colour, was quite astounding.