creating

Hebron, occupied West Bank – Badr al-Tamimi, 60, lives in Hebron’s Old City, where Israeli checkpoints, iron gates and road closures turn the simplest tasks into a dispiriting daily ordeal for Palestinian residents.

The situation goes beyond mere restrictions on movement. Israel has created a ghost town in parts of Hebron, where residents feel they are being driven out. This is most pronounced in an area known as H2, where Israel has complete control and Palestinians are subject to the dictates of the military.

A few days ago, Israeli authorities installed three iron gates across a 200-metre (656-foot) stretch of Hebron’s Old City – amounting to just 0.2 dunams (200 square metres) – as part of Israel’s apparent attempts to restrict Palestinians’ freedom to move around the city.

Hebron Mayor Yousef al-Jabari told Al Jazeera that one gate was erected on al-Zahid Road, the only route accessible to vehicles reaching the Old City entrance. A second was placed at the start of al-Shalala Street, which leads to shops connecting to the Bab al-Zawiya area in the city centre. A third towers over another section of al-Shalala Street, a thoroughfare used by pedestrians to access the shopping area.

They are part of a wider web of travel restrictions across the occupied West Bank, but Hebron, which has a strong settler presence, has suffered more than most Palestinian cities.

Approximately 40 percent of the 89 checkpoints in the West Bank and 11 percent of all 925 movement obstacles are located in the H2 area of Hebron, which is under tight Israeli control, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA).

About 7,000 Palestinians in an area of Hebron where hundreds of settlers live are affected by the latest travel restrictions. Since October 2023, when the genocidal war on Gaza began, only Palestinians with specific identification numbers could enter this area. Checkpoints at the entrance to this zone are generally only open from 7am to 8pm.

Al-Tamimi, who lives in the al-Sheikh neighbourhood adjacent to the city’s famed Ibrahimi Mosque, owns a shop in the Old City.

Palestinians can be kept waiting for hours at the checkpoints, and the mood of a soldier manning one can decide the commute time of a Palestinian. Worshippers attempting to enter the Ibrahimi Mosque can be held up for hours by soldiers.

“They might allow a limited number of people to enter while others are forced to wait, whereas resident movement comes to a halt during incursions, Jewish holidays, and the associated security measures,” he added.

Repeated closures have paralysed economic activity in Hebron, making it increasingly difficult for shops and companies to do business.

“Our presence in the Old City is a matter of steadfastness, not the availability of the elements needed for economic life,” al-Tamimi said.

Even after Israel’s occupation of the city in 1967, Hebron was once a bustling city with lively shops and markets. Residents could move more freely between neighbourhoods, which helped with economic life in the city.

Things changed in 1994, the year of the Ibrahimi Mosque massacre, when a US-born Israeli settler murdered 29 Palestinian worshippers.

From that point, the Old City’s geography changed, becoming isolated from its surroundings, al-Tamimi said.

He points to Shuhada Street, once a vital artery for transport and commerce in the city before road closures and restrictions transformed the area’s reality.

“They committed the crime, yet they continue to punish us for it,” he said.

In 1997, the Hebron Protocol was signed between the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) and Israel, dividing the city into two zones: H1, which was under relative Palestinian jurisdiction, and H2 – an area which includes the Old City, the Ibrahimi Mosque, and illegal settlements – remained under Israeli security control.

Issa Amro, coordinator of the Youth Against Settlements group, said Israeli prohibitions intensified with the outbreak of the second Intifada in 2000 when Hebron became a centre of the uprising.

During this period, vast areas of the city were sealed off, shops were forced to close, and residents often remained confined to their homes or neighbourhoods.

Since Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023, the number of checkpoints has risen to 32, while other obstacles impeding Palestinian movement now exceed 130.

The “closed zones”, designated by Israeli authorities as areas of military activity with restricted access to Palestinians, have expanded around the Ibrahimi Mosque and the illegal settlements that lie in the heart of the city.

“The movement restrictions are effectively holding residents as hostages,” Amro said.

Mayor al-Jabari said approximately 10,000 Palestinians in the Old City and the surrounding closed zones are affected by these measures.

Some parts of Hebron are inaccessible to vehicles, and Palestinian residents are subject to curfews two or three days a week, usually over the weekend.

He believes these restrictions are aimed at hindering Palestinians’ ability to return home and stifle life in parts of Hebron.

Meanwhile, Israeli authorities have helped settlers expand in the area, imposing a new suffocating reality for Palestinians in the city.

Al-Jabari said Israel’s current government could be doing this to curry favour with settlers ahead of this month’s election.

Control of Hebron, its Old City, and the Ibrahimi Mosque is a key issue for settlers, and politicians in this group occupy key posts in the Israeli government.

This has coincided with a concerted effort by Israeli authorities to cement the settler presence in and around the city.

“The seizure of buildings and land, along with the installation of gates, is a continuation of Israeli policies that have been in place for decades,” al-Jabari said.

“These include the closure of Shuhada Street and the shutting down of over 500 shops, as well as the establishment of settlement outposts and military positions within the Old City.”

He has seen more restrictions on Palestinians’ freedom of movement over the past month, measures that will undoubtedly appease settlers.

Hebron municipality has responded to this by filing lawsuits in Israeli courts, despite its scepticism about the impartiality of the judiciary.

With these measures continuing, life for Palestinians is getting worse, making work, life and education a daily struggle.

Israel cites the security situation as a pretext for erecting more checkpoints and iron gates in Hebron, but there are no such restrictions on settlers.

Since 2015, Israel has limited the number of Palestinian residents of closed zones who can pass through these checkpoints. Students and teachers frequently have their bags searched by Israeli soldiers or are detained.

Ayat al-Jabari, a 40-year-old science teacher, worked for a year at Qurtuba School, located near the closed Shuhada Street, before transferring to her current position at Al-Fayha School, near the Ibrahimi Mosque.

Although reaching Qurtuba School from her home should have been a five-minute journey, it often took an hour.

On her unsettling morning route through a nearby cemetery, often in darkness during the winter months, settlers and soldiers often appear in the graveyard to block the path of Palestinians or abuse them.

“Every day, I was forced to take a long route and walk through a cemetery to avoid passing the checkpoint, as I don’t hold a [special identification card] number. Even those who do hold numbers are sometimes forced to take this path to escape the soldiers’ moods,” she said.

After moving to Al-Fayha School, al-Jabari hoped her commute would improve, but the situation is no better than before.

“Whenever Jewish holidays arrive, these schools are closed because all the students live in areas subjected to a total lockdown, to the point where residents are even forbidden from opening their front doors,” she said.

Josh Hartnett and Charlie Heaton know how to brood.

The actors both found fame in their early 20s playing characters prone to pining and sulking: Hartnett became a heartthrob in the late ’90s and early 2000s with mellow roles in films including “The Virgin Suicides,” “Pearl Harbor” and “Black Hawk Down.” Heaton, meanwhile, spent most of the last decade embodying the introverted Jonathan Byers on “Stranger Things.”

But now, the duo are wearing their hearts on their sleeves in “Below,” a six-episode Netflix miniseries now streaming, in which they play a father and son living in a misty Newfoundland fishing village that is increasingly terrorized by something mysterious in the iceberg-filled waters.

As Calvin and Wade Penney in “Below,” the actors are passionate and emotional. They get into animated family arguments and gleefully celebrate when things (occasionally) go their way.

“It’s all on the page,” Hartnett said. “All I had to do was show up and feel those things toward Charlie.”

Filmed on location in Newfoundland, Canada, “Below” is the latest unexpected project for Hartnett, 48, who has been cultivating a career renaissance in recent years with roles in “Black Mirror,” “Oppenheimer,” “Trap” and this month’s “Verity.”

Charlie Heaton as Wade, left, and Josh Hartnett as Calvin in Netflix’s “Below.”

(Netflix)

Heaton, 32, has likewise been diversifying his post- “Stranger Things” portfolio. He played an ill-fated financial journalist in the fourth season of “Industry” and will next star in a “Peaky Blinders” sequel series.

“I like trying to surprise people, and maybe surprise myself too,” Heaton said.

When they convened for a joint video interview in late September, Heaton had recently returned to his London home from a music video shoot. Hartnett had just finished putting his four children (with wife, the actor Tamsin Egerton) to bed at their countryside home in Hampshire, England. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

What attracted you both to this project?

Hartnett: I was in “Black Mirror” a couple of years ago, and Jessica Rhoades, who produced “Black Mirror,” sent me the [“Below”] script probably about two months before production was supposed to start. I loved the script but I had some questions, so I had to speak to [creator] Jesse [McKeown] and a couple of the other EPs, just to get the lay of the land. After that conversation, I was like, this sounds really fresh and nuanced and organic.

Heaton: It seemed to have so much warmth and mystery. I do remember having a conversation with my agent because, obviously, I’d come off “Stranger Things,” and there was a little concern of, “Is it too similar?” But Wade is such a fun character. I’m from a working-class fishing town [Bridlington, England]. He’s also working class. Everyone knows somebody like Wade.

Hartnett: Willow Kean, who plays my sister, his aunt, saw Charlie on set when he first arrived. He was in his outfit and smoking a cigarette, and she was like, “I think somebody’s on set who shouldn’t be” — because he looked like a local. He fully embodied the mood of this character immediately.

How did the two of you meet? Had you crossed paths in the industry before?

Hartnett: We hadn’t. We met on Zoom. We did a bunch of stuff with the full cast, and it was more to learn the accent than anything else. Once we started to get into the accent work together, just shooting the s— online, it was great.

Heaton: We wanted the family to all sound like they were from the same place. But the accent is so hard to hear in the beginning. So, we were all getting it wrong together.

Heaton and Hartnett hadn’t crossed paths before being cast in “Below,” but they created a rapport by trying to learn the show’s Newfoundland accent together.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

What was the biggest obstacle with the Newfoundland accent?

Heaton: I’ve done a fair amount of accents, but it’s hard to understand the rules of this one. It’s like, well, that word’s Irish, that word’s kind of American. It took me a while to be able to hear it. We had Ali [Alison Kelly], who was our voice coach, and a lot of the extras that we had on set also were local artists, so you could really lean on them.

Hartnett: Everybody was so welcoming. The most difficult part for me was hearing the rhythm of it. So, I listened to this thing called “The Broadcast,” which used to be called “The Fisheries Broadcast.” It’s a radio show that’s been on since 1951. Every day they’re talking to someone about something that’s happening on the island, so you’re getting all these different versions of the accent, but you’re also getting an overall perspective of how people speak in Newfoundland. It was really revealing.

How familiar were you with Newfoundland before doing “Below”?

Hartnett: I knew very little. I knew the “Come From Away” story about all the people stranded in Gander after 9/11. I knew that it was where Leif Erikson landed a long time ago. I knew that it was the closest place in North America to Europe, so when people would do transatlantic flights up until relatively recently, they would stop in Newfoundland. I knew there were puffins.

Heaton: I’m going to be very honest. I hadn’t even ever heard of it. But I learned a lot. We were there for a long time, and Newfoundlanders are extremely proud of their history and their culture, and they love talking.

What was it like shooting on location and out in nature?

Heaton: It was powerful and beautiful. Where we shot, Snook’s Arm, was this bay called Brigus South. You’d come down in the morning, and just that sheer amount of nature every day I found really moving.

Hartnett: One of the first days we were there, they took me out on a whale-watching tour. I was like, “Oh, cool. That sounds touristy but fun.” It was a spiritual experience. I’ve never been anywhere where I felt so small and insignificant next to another animal. These humpback whales, they’re right underneath these tiny little boats, and if they wanted to, they could just flick their tail, and you’d be off in the sea. I had never experienced nature in the sea the way that I experienced it there.

You play father and son, but you’re not that far apart in age.

Hartnett: Fifteen-and-a-half years! I did the math.

Heaton and Hartnett play father and son in “Below,” but in reality they’re just shy of 16 years apart. (Netflix)

How did you develop your onscreen dynamic?

Hartnett: Charlie was so in character as Wade, it was very easy to feel a real sense of protectiveness and an incredible amount of love.

Heaton: What I really admired about working with Josh [is] he is such a leader. You really care, and you’re so generous with everyone, and I got to see your family, and I got to see how you are as a dad. So, those projections weren’t that difficult to come up with in my head, honestly. It’s cool that I get to be your son.

Hartnett: So sweet, man. Thank you.

Charlie, do you remember any of Josh’s past work that stood out to you?

Hartnett: [Pretends to cover his camera] I’m just going to turn this off.

Heaton: One of my favorite films for a while was “Lucky Number Slevin.” When I was younger, I used to watch that quite a lot. I might rewatch that, Josh. It’s been a while.

Hartnett: Well, tell me if it holds up.

Josh, were you familiar with Charlie’s work?

Hartnett: I was a big fan of “Stranger Things,” and I saw “Industry.” Then, when he came on the first Zoom as Wade and was so already intact as a character, I was like, “He’s a star, man. This guy’s a star.”

Charlie Heaton as Jonathan Byers in “Stranger Things.” Hartnett says he was a fan of his work.

(Netflix)

You both found fame in your early 20s, but at very different points in the industry. What are your memories of first realizing, “Oh, people know who I am offscreen and something has shifted?”

Heaton: I remember the exact moment. I was shooting a movie in a small town in Asturias in the north of Spain. “Stranger Things” had been out for only a couple of days. I was in this little town, and a family came up to me that could barely speak English, but they recognized me. Then, I walked down the street a little further and another kid came running up to me.

The show blew up overnight, and before you knew it, you’re going to the Emmys and the BAFTAs with all these people who you have admired. I think we all felt impostor syndrome. Like, what am I doing on a carpet where Bryan Cranston and Helen Mirren are? If I think back to it now, it’s very overwhelming. I don’t really know if I processed how that changed so fast and how you are expected to know how to deal with it.

Hartnett: It was a long time ago for me. There was no social media, obviously, but we did have a pretty intense paparazzi problem. So, the initial success of films like “The Faculty,” “Halloween: H20” and “The Virgin Suicides” was a nice level of, like, people knew who I was and I was able to get more work, but there wasn’t a crush of paparazzi waiting outside the hotel.

When “Pearl Harbor” came out, that changed. I was in Morocco shooting “Black Hawk Down,” and I had to come back to do press for “Pearl Harbor.” Suddenly, that’s when I couldn’t go anywhere. That was an odd thing to encounter because I was 22, and I was not ready for it. Right after I finished “Black Hawk Down,” I decided to get back to Minnesota, where I grew up … There’s no paparazzi in Minnesota. That’s where I stayed for about two years.

Heaton: Those seismic changes are such a strange thing to go through. I always felt like, I haven’t changed but everyone else around me has changed — and that’s a weird thing to get used to. But there are great opportunities and great things that come out of it.

Hartnett: One hundred percent. My life is so much better now than it probably would have been had all that not happened.

Josh, you’ve said that you felt celebrity culture was “vacuous” and that you didn’t want to do things like “Cribs” or “Punk’d.” Did you feel like you were being pushed to fit a certain mold as a teen heartthrob?

Hartnett: That stuff wasn’t for me. Being a young celebrity, you’re always going to be pushed toward the cusp of insanity, the stuff that people are going to look back on and cringe not too far into the future. I was lucky enough to avoid that side of it.

In our business, it’s about surviving your 20s to get to the place where you have the respect of the people on set that you’re working with, and they allow you the leeway to create characters the way that you want to create them.

Charlie, how are you approaching your post-“Stranger Things” career?

Heaton: After wrapping the final season, I wanted to do “Industry,” which felt extremely different to me. I got to use my own accent. It’s a much more adult show than I’ve ever been in. And playing a man was important. I’d been playing a perpetually 21-year-old for like 10 years. I keep getting older. [Jonathan] stays the same. He gets further away from me. But I just want to do things that hopefully allow me to show range.