The Lions by the River Tigris (2025) ‘DOC NYC’ Documentary Review: A Gloomy Yet Absorbing Portrait of People Restoring Pieces of Their Past

“The Lions by the River Tigris” (2025) invites us to a world that has usually been shown through a one-sided lens on celluloid. The film revolves around three people in Mosul, Iraq, returning to the city years after the invasion of ISIS forces. In theory, it documents the aftermath of a war. However, director Zaradasht Ahmed adds his bracingly personal touch, elevating it beyond the trappings of wartime documentation. The Kurdish-Norwegian filmmaker opens his film with shots of architecture in Mosul, but it isn’t an impersonal documentation of debris and devastation. They are thoughtfully composed to evoke a profound sense of loss over the tangible and intangible costs of war. We feel the loss of infrastructure as deeply as the loss of cultural cache.

Ahmed conveys it through the eyes of three men trying to restore what they have lost. They all remain consumed by their emotional attachment to their past. It informs most of their decisions as they return to the city in search of life. 67-year-old Fakhri roams the city in search of antiques of all kinds, while 62-year-old Fadel retains his love for melodies by playing the violin in places they once occupied without worry. During his travels, Fakhri crosses paths with Bashar, a 52-year-old fisherman, who can’t help but be drawn back to his old home, even though it has become uninhabitable after all the violent attacks.

After gaining control over Mosul in 2014, the fundamentalist forces used Bashar’s house as a base for their activities. They made it unrecognisable to anyone who used to live in that space. There, Batioshar can find some parts of his old life behind the rubble, whether a carpet or a carving. Yet, he can’t escape the signs of the terrorist occupation. Hence, he remains determined to bring it to its old state, even though it seems implausible. His resolve, despite financial restraints, goes against Fakhri’s, who can’t get over the sheer beauty of his front door’s arch. The design features two immaculately carved tigers, among other minute details, that maintain their charm even in its faded, worn-down state.

Bashar holds on to his hope of rebuilding the house as before, although Fakhri remains hell-bent on getting hold of the door frame and is ready to pay whatever’s necessary. It creates a friction between Fakhri’s optimism and Bashar’s reluctance, which offers dramatic flourishes to the documentation. Yet, the director never exploits their interpersonal tension. His observations remain intricate. They reveal how any act of restoration, for them, serves as a mode of mourning for the irretrievable.

Bashar mourns by trying to recover every trace of his house. He looks for the fishing nets he previously left somewhere in there and remains vigilant against anyone stealing anything. The film reveals layers of possessiveness. It isn’t an owner being protective of his property as much as of all the emotions it represented for him. Fakhri is also motivated by similarly sentimental reasons, but he is deeply invested in cultural preservation. While tracing their steps across the city and offering their personal accounts, the director also offers a glimpse into the local museum, which was once a cultural touchstone, but has been lost to the terrorist destruction.

By interjecting the individual tales with Mosul’s ground reality, the film deepens our understanding of what art means in human evolution. Whether a painting, a melody, or a sculpture, they all matter for their emotional value. After all, while trying to restore the tangible aspects of history, the three men in this film are actually trying to preserve the intangible facets, which include art and expression of any kind that was outlawed by religious fundamentalists.

The film leaves us with a pang for the horrors survivors are left to contend with every passing day. Ahmed evokes that dread by occasionally shooting quite close to his stars, revealing slivers of their emotions as they look over the city, where even the hope in their eyes inevitably reveals their underlying despair. Daan Hofman’s score holds it all together, while adding depth to the story’s innate lyricism. Eva Hillström’s editing helps in the same context, as she weaves their stories together into a cohesive whole.

Furthermore, the film excels because Ahmed never dishonors their sentimentality. There’s an endearing quality to how he reveals the glint in Fakhri’s eyes as he points out all the details of the doorframe with almost a childlike enthusiasm, and the shimmer on Bashar’s face as he looks at the grass growing on his plot of land. That makes his documentation all the more rewarding.

Zaradasht Ahmed’s ‘The Lions by the River Tigris’ was a part of the 2025 DOC NYC Film Festival.

The Lions by the River Tigris (2025) Documentary Link: IMDb