Ben Sharrock’s personal experiences dealing with Syrian refugees laid the mental framework for Limbo, his offbeat, absurdist and humanistic film about the uncertain fate of refugees stuck in Scotland while their asylum claims are being processed. Limbo began its life as a short film script which was never shot. However, the story stuck with the filmmaker and inspired him to rewrite it as a feature.
“I was struck by the humanity and injustice of the refugees and how it affected their circumstances,” said Sharrock. He wanted to address how refugees were often depicted and represented in the media. “We had the demonization of refugees on one side and the pitying of them on the other side. Both of these things were dehumanizing. We didn’t look at them like people like us.” This was a key driver in the story rather than dissecting the geopolitical reasons behind asylum seekers.
“I became fascinated with the impact of being a refugee has on one’s own identity”
Limbo deliberately explores the refugee experience from the perspective of single males rather than women, children or families. “The single male refugee was seen as the biggest single threat to Western society.” Sharrock chose the main character to be a single Syrian male. He chose his on his experience living in that country as a cultural touchstone for Omar’s identity. Attending an Oud (string instrument) concert in Damascus the year before the civil war started was the impetus for making Omar, the main character a musician.
Ben Sharrock on set with Omar (Amir El-Masry) Photo by Focus Features
The main characters in the story are Omar (Amir El-Masry) and Freddy Mercury-loving Farhad (Vikash Bhai). Sharrock was fortunate in that his interactions with refugees allowed him to construct his authentic characters from fertile soil. They weren’t based on individual people he met, but rather from the broader realities of their lives.
Limbo is a unique film in that it made the bold decision to steer away from a serious drama depicting the plight of the displaced people. In some moments, it became a laugh out loud comedy. “The observational, deadpan humor can be an amazing tool to access this subject matter in a different way.” The humor undulates throughout the film. Sometimes, Sharrock pushes it to the front and other times moves it gently to the back without dramatically changing the overall tone.
Like all films with a comedic tilt, Omar and his flatmates needed some grounding in between watching the Friends boxset trying to determine if Rachel and Ross were really on a break and attending cultural assimilation classes by doing mock job interviews. “Limbo is grounded in truth and the universality of humanity and how we connect with others.” Omar is stranded on the Scottish Island with his Oud which he initially can’t play due a plaster cast on his arm. He misses his family and he can’t move forward or backwards. He’s not sure where his fate lies or whether the trek to Scotland was worth his journey.
Omar doesn’t have a specific goal in life, other than to find a better one outside of Syria.
He isn’t ostensibly waiting to be granted asylum so he can migrate to a specific place to start anew. Limbo explores the circumstances of asylum seekers who wait for years to have their claims processed without any guarantee of a positive outcome. They don’t have the rights of refugees, they can’t work, and are restricted in their movement. The psychological weight of waiting indefinitely takes its mental toll.
Loss of identity is often a bigger burden than waiting. Limbo also explores racism, bigotry, and xenophobia. At one point Omar questions his decision to leave Syria and has deep regrets about it.
The filmmaker delicately balanced the life circumstances of the asylum with the reactions of the locals. “I wanted to show the process of ‘othering’ without it becoming about that. It was not a film about cultural reconciliation narrative. It was about the introspective emotional journeys of asylum seekers,” said Sharrock.
The Oud
The Oud is integral to Omar’s story. It is a metaphor for Omar’s soul. The case in which he stored it was described as “a coffin for his soul.” Unsurprisingly, the case resembles the shape of a coffin.
It also represents a connection to his homeland and his family because it belonged to his grandfather. The instrument was made from walnut which is specific to Damascus. The etchings on the Oud are of his family home.
Farhad (Vikash Bhai) & Omar (Amir El-Masry) Photo by Focus Features
Omar carries the unplayed Oud around with him as a burden rather than a celebration of his former identity as he awaits a new one. “Omar isn’t suffering a crisis of identity. He’s suffering the grief of losing his former identity.”
Ben Sharrock deliberately didn’t display any images of his family when Omar was talking to them on the phone. “His mother was an incredible presence. All we get is her voice. We experience Omar’s conversations with her through him with our ever seeing her face.”
Having a long gestation period from script to screen allowed Ben Sharrock to fine tune his story. He distinctly avoided writing about the mechanics of processing asylum claims. “I struggled with this early on because I felt I had to include it. In the end, I decided to leave it out because it detracted from the story I wanted to tell.” He also excluded scenes with how the authorities often deal with asylum seekers.
Omar’s fate remains uncertain at the end of the film as is those of his flatmates.
