Words by

Iryna Zubenko

Photo by

Juli Grosser

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 Julius Pollux Rothlaender scored an Oscar winner — but what matters is the Palestinian reality it documents

A friend asks another simple question: “Do you want to have a family?” This quiet moment in No Other Land, which won Best Documentary at this year’s Academy Awards, arrives just five minutes before the credits roll. On the surface, it seems like a casual conversation any friends might have. Yet the people on the screen — one from Israel, one from Palestine — are unlikely friends. Everything leading up to this scene provides a chilling glimpse into the ongoing efforts of one nation to erase another and its people from their land. Even in conversation, these friends are not equals. “It would be so nice with stability one day. Then you’ll come visit me, not always me visiting you.”

No Other Land is a documentary by the Palestinian-Israeli collective of four activist directors: Basel Adra, Yuval Abraham, Hamdan Ballal and Rachel Szor. It shows the harrowing reality of a West Bank village Masafer Yatta destroyed by Israeli occupation and the growing friendship of Palestinian activist Basel and Israeli journalist Yuval.

The score for the film was composed by Reykvíkingur Julius Pollux Rothlaender. Known as the bass guitarist of indie pop-punk duo BSÍ, Julius is no stranger to the Reykjavík culture scene. Although, as we speak, he’s in his native Germany, Julius has called Iceland home for the past 10 years.

by Juli Grosser

“It was quite random, but then also it made sense,” Julius says about how he got involved in No Other Land. With BSÍ touring less recently, he had more time to focus on other projects — including his growing passion for film music. He had previously worked with German editor Anne Fabini, who was assisting the No Other Land directors in 2023. “When the question about music for the film came up, and they didn’t really know what to do, she recommended me.” Julius happened to be in Berlin at that time. “I just jumped on my bike and met them before they left the city,” he says. 

Less is more

No Other Land shows the painful footage you’d rather not witness in cinema, and your heart aches realising this represents the daily reality for countless Palestinian communities. The documentary’s unflinching lens captures homes reduced to rubble by bulldozers, wells deliberately filled with cement, civilians subjected to beatings and gunfire, with neither children nor animals being spared.

Julius admits that the intensity of events in Palestine took a toll on the overall work process. “I had sent them the first drafts on October 5, and then October 7 came, and then the war started,” he says. “For them to finish the movie, editing and making decisions, while being in a state of war and in danger — [that was difficult]. Also, the film is about them, what you see is their life. It was really hard for them to get it done.” For Julius, who’s gotten to know the directors, it was emotionally taxing too. “I was afraid for their well-being. In the end, you see the cousin of Basel being shot. Just imagining what life was like for them at that time [was hard].”

With No Other Land being the collective’s first film, they didn’t have a clear vision when it came to the music. Instead, it was a constant back-and-forth dialogue with Julius, trying to “find a language together.” 

In the end, there are about 35 minutes of composition in the 92 minutes of the film’s running time. Julius uses a little wooden instrument called lyre harp, admitting that he likes bringing a new instrument to every project, but also traditional instruments like bass guitar and classic guitar. His approach begins with recording physical instruments before digitally layering them to add extra texture. Being free from traditional song structures allows him to experiment. “I feel like songs are often asking for attention, but with film music, I find it so freeing that it’s not supposed to be out there, or very catchy, or attention seeking, but very subtle, quiet and… maybe shy?,” he ponders.

​​Subtle and restrained, the score in No Other Land lingers in the background, without ever pulling focus from the story. “There’s a lot of very subtle things — where I tried to blend the music in with the imagery, the landscape and the area,” Julius says. “Because the images are so heavy, so strong and so brutal, I felt there wasn’t a point in trying to do anything with that… just let the images be what they are. So much of it is so horrible, there was no music that could be added to that in many places.”

For Julius, music in film is often about knowing when to step back. “It’s funny because I feel like in the past 10 years, I’ve seen many more films in the cinema than I’ve been going to concerts,” he says. Back when he worked at Bíó Paradís, juggling that with music to support himself financially, he used his job to watch as many films as he could. “It’s a bit of a paradox but I actually often think I want less music in films. I don’t like too much score in films.”

Censored success

Even before its Oscar win, No Other Land was earning industry praise, picking up awards at the Berlinale and the European Film Awards, to name a few. The team never expected the film to take off the way it did, but they had always hoped it would reach a wide audience — driven by their hope for change — “an immediate end to the oppression, killing and displacement of the Palestinian people by the Israeli army.” 

The overall positive reception from both the public and industry has been overshadowed by politics. Germany, for instance, accused the filmmakers of “antisemitic bias,” while in the U.S. — the home of the Academy Awards and the heart of cinematography — the film struggled to find a distributor. This forced the directors to release it independently for limited screenings in LA and New York. The reason, of course, lies in the United States’s ties with Israel, resulting in the censorship of stories about genocide and apartheid. Julius confirms, “There’s a really strong bias in the Hollywood scene.”

Not long after my conversation with Julius, that bias became even more glaring. In late March, news broke that director Hamdan Ballal had been attacked and arrested by the Israeli military, sparking calls for his release from numerous organisations. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences responded with a vague statement about artists facing threats to their freedom of expression — deliberately avoiding Hamdan’s name or acknowledging the film. This led to industry outrage, with many Hollywood actors, including Mark Ruffalo, Olivia Colman, and Joaquin Phoenix, signing a rebuke. As they put it, “It is indefensible for an organisation to recognise a film with an award in the first week of March, and then fail to defend its filmmakers just a few weeks later.” 

Hamdan was later released and the Academy apologised.

“It’s tough because the film has been travelling the whole world, they won the Oscar, we were in LA the other day, and still, nothing has really changed,” Julius says, his voice tinged with a touch of despair. “Their goal with the film was always to show the [situation] to people, and that people would tell their governments and protest, and that will maybe increase the pressure on the Israeli government so that change might come and happen, and things will get better,” he continues. “But if anything, things have just gone worse. These days again, the settlers are emptying houses, destroying them and attacking people in Masafer Yatta. It’s really devastating to see how little has been achieved.”

Oscars: shiny, but tone-deaf

Speaking about the Oscars ceremony itself — undoubtedly, or at least traditionally — considered the pinnacle of cinematic achievement, Julius says quickly: “It was absurd.” 

From some films spending double or triple their entire budget just on Oscars PR campaigns to the overall polished, hyper-glossy atmosphere, the whole thing felt surreal.

“The whole glamour thing isn’t really my world,” he says with a shy smile. “I don’t know all the famous movie stars, I don’t really care much about them. But for us as a team, it was great to be there together — to reunite after this whole year and acknowledge what wild journey this film has been on in the last 12 months.”

You didn’t need to be at the Oscars to notice how out of touch the ceremony felt — it was widely criticised for ignoring the larger political and social context. Julius admits he found it quite underwhelming, even disappointing. “There was so little politics. In a year where everything is so loaded, I felt like… I was disappointed by the Oscars, just feeling like the show goes on as usual.” 

While he admits it doesn’t hurt to have an Oscar on your composer CV, Julius tries not to take it too seriously. “Nothing changed for me, really,” he says. “My sister and her kids live close to LA, so I went to their place, and it was really good to switch from the red carpet thing and pick up my nephew and niece from school the day after. That’s more what life’s about for me.”

“This film is so much more personal — it’s about something bigger than just a job,” he continues. “It’s not about its success as a film or us as filmmakers and artists. It’s about the fact that we need things to change.”