Trying to pin a plot or even a theme on Elia Suleiman's deadpan "It Must Be Heaven" may prove difficult as the director, who is also the central character, observes the world around him through seemingly jaundiced eyes without opening his mouth, (he doesn't speak until about two-thirds of the way into the movie and only then to tell a New York cabbie that he's from Nazareth).
He's a Palestinian Jacques Tati who begins his journey of (self) discovery in Nazareth before flying off to Paris, a city seemingly filled with beautiful women that Suleiman observes, or you might say ogles, to the strains of Nina Simone. It's also a city of the homeless or the dispossed and people running from the authorities who pursue them on various forms of motorised transport. Of course, none of this makes much sense; this is a comedy of the absurd that is never particularly funny.
Midway through this Parisian section it seems to hint this might be a film about the film we're watching. Geddit? Gotit! Good. It then moves to a slightly more vibrant New York where Gael Garcia Bernal makes a brief, funny appearance as himself before going full circle back to Nazareth. Throughout, Suleiman makes brilliant use of the widescreen; visually the film is a constant treat but maybe the taciturn director isn't the best guide, even to his own idiosyncratic world, and 104 minutes in his company may prove too much for some. Stick with it, though, (at least until the scene-stealing little bird appears), and you may find, as I did, that he will win you over.
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