Aram Sabbah

Aram Sabbah’s filmography really feels like a punch straight to the gut, in the best way possible. Take “To a Land Unknown” (2024) — it’s not your usual, neatly-wrapped drama. The story dives into the chaos and turmoil faced by people flung from their homes, clinging to hope and dignity as they stumble through strange lands. There’s no sugar-coating here. You’re dragged into the mess, the heartbreak, the tiny flashes of joy that come out of nowhere. Sabbah doesn’t just show you the journey; he makes you live every step, sweat and all. Then there’s “Next Station” (2022). It’s not just about trains and platforms, obviously. It’s about all those weird, in-between moments we usually ignore. Characters cross paths, stuck in limbo, each carrying their own baggage (sometimes literally, sometimes just emotional junk). The tension? Oh, it’s there, humming under every awkward glance and half-finished sentence. You start thinking about your own ‘next station’ in life, and it stings a little. And don’t sleep on “Yannis” (2019) either. Sabbah zooms right in on the personal, digging into grief and memory. It’s raw — like picking at a scab you know you shouldn’t touch, but you can’t help it. The camera lingers, the silences stretch, and you feel every bit of what’s left unsaid. All in, Sabbah’s work is blunt, aching, and weirdly beautiful — a real gut-check that doesn’t let you off easy.