If you’ve spent any time scrolling through the international film section lately, you might have stumbled upon Huda’s Salon on Netflix. It isn't your typical Friday night popcorn flick. Honestly, it’s gut-wrenching. Directed by Hany Abu-Assad—the same mind behind the Oscar-nominated Paradise Now—this movie dives headfirst into the terrifying reality of occupation, blackmail, and the impossible choices women face in occupied Bethlehem. It’s raw. It’s uncomfortable. And it’s a story that basically stays with you long after the credits roll.
The film starts in a way that feels totally normal. A hair salon. Two women chatting. But within the first ten minutes, the entire atmosphere shifts from mundane to a waking nightmare. You see Reem, a young mother, just trying to get her hair done. Then there’s Huda, the salon owner, who drugs her, takes compromising photos, and attempts to blackmail her into becoming an informant for the Israeli secret service. It’s a betrayal that feels visceral because a salon is supposed to be a safe space.
The Real Stakes of Huda’s Salon on Netflix
Most people go into this movie expecting a fast-paced spy thriller. It’s not that. It’s a psychological drama that feels more like a claustrophobic stage play. Abu-Assad doesn't rely on massive explosions or high-speed chases to keep you engaged. Instead, he uses the tension between characters and the weight of the political climate to crush the audience.
The film explores the "double occupation." Palestinian women aren't just living under military rule; they are also navigating a deeply patriarchal society where "honor" is weaponized. When Huda threatens to leak those photos, Reem isn't just afraid of the police. She’s afraid of her husband. She’s afraid of her family. She knows that in her community, being labeled a traitor or a "fallen woman" is essentially a death sentence.
Hany Abu-Assad has mentioned in various interviews that the concept was inspired by real-world events. While the specific characters of Reem and Huda are fictional, the tactic of using "morality" traps to recruit informants is a documented reality in the region. This isn't just some Hollywood screenwriter's fever dream. It's grounded in a history of surveillance that has torn families apart for decades.
Why Huda Isn't a Simple Villain
One of the most complex things about watching Huda’s Salon on Netflix is how you feel about Huda herself. Manal Awad plays her with this cold, weary pragmatism. She isn't a mustache-twirling villain. She’s a woman who was once in Reem’s shoes. She was broken by the same system she now serves.
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It’s messy.
Huda believes she is a victim of her circumstances, and in many ways, she is. She tells Reem that it’s better to be a traitor who is alive than a "virtuous" woman who is dead. It’s a cynical, dark worldview that highlights how systemic oppression rots everything it touches—even the bond between two women in a beauty parlor. You hate what she does, but you also see the cycle of trauma that put her there.
The Cinematography of Anxiety
The visual style is purposefully jarring. The camera stays tight on the faces. You feel the sweat. You feel the panic. When the film shifts to the resistance fighters who eventually capture Huda, the tone changes again. Now we're in a basement. It’s dark, grimy, and smells like damp concrete.
The contrast between the bright, pastel-colored salon and the dark interrogation room is a literal representation of the two worlds these characters inhabit. On the surface, life looks normal. Underneath, everyone is watching everyone else.
Huda’s Salon on Netflix doesn't give you easy answers. It doesn't tell you who to root for in a traditional sense. It asks you: "What would you do to survive?"
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Misconceptions About the Film’s Ending
There’s been a lot of chatter online about whether the film is "anti-Palestinian" or "pro-Israel." Neither is true. That’s a lazy way to look at a complex piece of art. The film is a critique of power. It critiques the Israeli intelligence services for their predatory recruitment tactics, but it also takes a very hard look at the Palestinian resistance and how they handle internal "traitors."
The ending is abrupt. Some viewers find it frustrating. They want a neat resolution where the bad guys get caught and the good guys go home. But in a conflict that has lasted for 75 years, there are no neat endings. The ambiguity is the point. Reem’s fate is left hanging, symbolizing the precariousness of life in Bethlehem.
A Note on the Nudity Controversy
When the film first premiered at festivals and later hit streaming, there was a significant backlash in some parts of the Arab world regarding a specific scene involving nudity. It was controversial. Some felt it was unnecessary; others argued it was essential to show the sheer violation Reem experienced.
Abu-Assad stood by the scene, stating that it was meant to be horrifying, not erotic. It was about the theft of a woman's agency. If you’re planning to watch it, just know that it is a very difficult, graphic moment that serves to anchor the stakes of the blackmail. It’s meant to make you feel as trapped as Reem feels.
How to Approach the Film If You’re New to Middle Eastern Cinema
If this is your first foray into Palestinian cinema, Huda’s Salon might feel like a heavy entry point. It’s worth checking out Abu-Assad’s other work, like Omar, to get a better sense of his style. He loves exploring the intersection of love and betrayal.
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- Watch with subtitles: Don't use the dub. The nuances in the Arabic performances are lost when you try to listen to it in English.
- Research the context: Understanding the basics of the Bethlehem security situation makes the "informant" plotline much more terrifying.
- Give it a second watch: There is a lot of subtext in the dialogue between Huda and her captors that hits differently once you know the whole story.
The film is currently available on Netflix in several regions, though licensing fluctuates. It’s part of a broader effort by the platform to include more diverse, international voices—even the ones that make us deeply uncomfortable.
Actionable Steps for Viewers
If you've already watched Huda’s Salon on Netflix and want to dive deeper into the themes of the film or the history that inspired it, here is how to process it properly.
First, look into the work of B'Tselem or Amnesty International regarding the use of informants and the legal pressures faced by residents in the Palestinian territories. It provides the factual backbone to the fictionalized events in the movie.
Second, compare this film to Hany Abu-Assad’s previous work. Watching The Idol (2015) offers a much more hopeful perspective on Palestinian life, which provides a necessary balance to the grim reality of Huda’s Salon. It’s important not to let one film define your entire understanding of a culture or a conflict.
Lastly, pay attention to the performances of Maisa Abd Elhadi and Manal Awad. Their chemistry—if you can call it that—is what makes the film work. They represent two different generations of women trying to navigate a world that doesn't offer them many exits. Understanding their character arcs helps in grasping the "cycle of violence" trope that the film tries to subvert.
Take a moment after watching to reflect on the concept of "safety." The film’s greatest achievement is making a mundane hair salon feel like a minefield. It’s a masterclass in tension and a sobering reminder of the human cost of long-standing political strife.