For much of the world, Gaza exists primarily through news footage. Scenes of devastation have come to dominate our mobile and TV screens. In Once Upon a Time in Gaza, Palestinian filmmaker duo Tarzan and Arab Nasser attempt to broaden that picture, reminding viewers that the place is about everyday survival as much as it is about occupation and political turmoil.
Once Upon a Time in Gaza premiered at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival in the Un Certain Regard section, and is now available to watch on BookMyShow stream.
The film opens with an audio of Donald Trump’s controversial remarks about turning Gaza into the “Riviera of the Middle East” juxtaposed against images of destruction. Yet the narrative itself takes viewers back to 2007, long before the current devastation, to a Gaza City already living under immense pressure.
The story follows two unlikely partners. Osama (Majd Eid), a burly falafel shop owner with a knack for bending rules, supplements his income through an illicit trade in painkillers. His reluctant accomplice is Yahya (Nader Abd Alhay), a shy university student whose nervous demeanour makes him an unlikely participant in criminal activity.
The duo obtain pain medication using forged prescriptions and hide the pills inside falafel sandwiches before selling them. The premise provides the foundation for a surprisingly entertaining first half, filled with deadpan humour.
The Nassers display a sharp eye for comic timing. Much of the humour emerges from the contrast between Osama's confidence and Yahya's perpetual anxiety. Their conversations often stretch into the realm of the absurd.
Lurking around the edges is Abou Sami (Ramzi Maqdisi), a corrupt police officer who pressures Osama to become an informant. As tensions between the men intensify, the film gradually takes a dark turn. What initially feels like a quirky crime comedy slowly reveals deeper concerns about power, coercion and survival.
One of the film's most interesting qualities is the way politics remain ever-present without always occupying the foreground. Newspaper headlines wrapped around falafel sandwiches and television broadcasts constantly remind viewers of worsening conditions in Gaza. Israel's blockade, restrictions on movement and rising tensions form the backdrop to every scene.
Sometimes this approach works brilliantly. A sequence in which Yahya is prevented from travelling to see his mother carries more emotional weight than many overt political speeches.
At other times, however, the balance feels uneven. The wider geopolitical context occasionally appears disconnected from the central narrative, surfacing in brief reminders rather than organically shaping the story’s momentum. The film clearly wants to bridge personal struggles and historical realities, but that connection does not always land.
The film takes a bold turn midway through. Following a traumatic event, the narrative jumps ahead two years and reinvents itself almost entirely. Yahya, now emotionally scarred and withdrawn, is approached by a filmmaker who believes he bears a striking resemblance to a fallen resistance fighter.
He is recruited to play the man in what is described as Gaza's first action movie, a production backed by the Ministry of Culture. Suddenly, Once Upon a Time in Gaza becomes a film about filmmaking.
This shift is where the Nassers' ambitions become most apparent. The movie begins interrogating the relationship between reality and representation. What does it mean to recreate resistance on screen? Can cinema itself become a form of resistance?
The film-within-the-film sequences are delightful. Budget limitations force the production to use real weapons instead of visual effects, creating situations that are simultaneously comic and unsettling. Actors playing Israeli soldiers are mistaken for actual soldiers by passersby, blurring the line between performance and reality.
These scenes contain some of the movie's strongest ideas. The filmmakers explore how cinema can manufacture heroes, myths and revolutionary narratives.