“Do You Love Me,” a new documentary directed by Lana Daher, offers a nuanced exploration of Lebanon’s complex history through a mosaic of archival footage spanning more than seven decades. The 75-minute film compiles clips from Lebanese cinema, television, home videos, and other visual media to craft an emotional portrait of a nation shaped by ongoing conflict yet resilient in its communal bonds.
Opening with a montage that highlights Beirut’s long experience with warfare—including Israeli military assaults and Lebanon’s 1975-1990 civil war—the film quickly moves beyond straightforward historical recounting. Dabei and editor Qutaiba Barhamji, known for his work on “Four Daughters,” intertwine footage thematically rather than chronologically. This approach reveals layers of personal and collective memory, resisting conventional narratives dominated by violence.
Among the film’s evocative sequences are 1980s Lebanese crime movies set to funk music, a woman’s poignant visit to her family home destroyed after 150 years, and home videos capturing the ambivalence of childhood under constant threat. One notable scene features children performing on a television music program, repeatedly asking a visibly uneasy father what is wrong, underscoring how daily life is often shadowed by anxiety. Throughout the film, intimate moments such as women quietly listening to radio reports evoke a lingering tension and fatigue.
The documentary also incorporates footage from the 2020 Beirut port explosion, presented through handheld shots that suddenly lose focus, conveying the chaos and trauma wrought by the event. Contrasting these somber elements, a clip from a flamboyant dance show unexpectedly delivers the lyric “And Beirut will not die!”—a powerful reminder of the city’s enduring spirit.
The film’s title derives from a popular song by the Bendaly Family and suggests a yearning for affirmation and stability amid turmoil. Daher’s work frequently challenges simplistic views of Lebanese identity by including candid, less-polished glimpses into everyday life, such as an interview with a man initially praising Beirut’s coexistence before revealing deeper frustrations. The absence of a national archive, forcing her to labor for seven months sourcing materials, reflects the difficulties of piecing together Lebanon’s fragmented history.
“Do You Love Me” aligns with the efforts of Lebanese artists like Jocelyne Saab, Joana Hadjithomas, and Khalil Joreige, whose works also probe national memory with layered, kaleidoscopic perspectives. By crediting contributors whose images appear, Daher acknowledges the collaborative nature of reconstructing this shared narrative. The film offers both a reconciliation with Lebanon’s ongoing struggles and an assertion of the country’s multifaceted identity beyond cycles of violence.
