If you’ve spent any time scrolling through the documentary section on Netflix, you’ve probably seen the thumbnail for Three Songs for Benazir. It’s a 22-minute short that feels like a punch to the gut, but in the most beautiful way possible. Most people think they understand the situation in Afghanistan from the news. We see the dusty streets, the military humvees, and the tragic headlines.
But this film? It’s different.
Honestly, it’s not really about "the war" in the way you’d expect. It’s a love story. A very real, very complicated love story set in a displacement camp in Kabul. The directors, Gulistan and Elizabeth Mirzaei, spent years following a young man named Shaista. He’s charming, he’s ambitious, and he’s head-over-heels for his wife, Benazir.
He sings to her. He makes her laugh. He wants to be the first in his tribe to join the Afghan National Army because he wants a "real" job to support his growing family. But as the movie unfolds, you realize that in a place like Kabul, even the simplest dreams can turn into a nightmare.
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The Reality Behind Three Songs for Benazir
The thing about Three Songs for Benazir that most people get wrong is the timeline. It looks like it all happens at once, but the filmmakers actually shot this over the course of four to six years.
Shaista is stuck between a rock and a hard place. His family—specifically his father and brother—don't want him to join the army. They’re terrified. They think he’ll be killed by the Taliban. Their "safe" alternative? Working in the poppy fields for the opium trade. It’s a classic Catch-22. You either risk your life for the state or you risk your soul (and potentially your freedom) for the drug trade.
Why the surveillance balloon matters
Throughout the film, there’s this giant white surveillance balloon floating over the camp. It’s eerie. It just sits there, a silent reminder that someone is always watching, even if they aren't actually helping. It represents the "Afghanistan Fatigue" that Elizabeth Mirzaei often talks about in interviews. The world watches, but the people on the ground—like Shaista and Benazir—are still just trying to find enough wood to keep their mud hut warm.
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The film is incredibly intimate. You’re right there in their home. You see Benazir’s shy smiles and Shaista’s goofy energy. It’s so human that it makes the second half of the documentary even harder to swallow.
That Ending: What Happened After the Credits?
If you’ve watched it, you know there’s a massive time jump. Four years pass in the blink of an eye. We find Shaista in a much darker place. He’s in a drug rehabilitation center, struggling with addiction.
It’s a devastating turn.
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A lot of viewers feel like they missed something, but that’s the point. Life in a displacement camp isn't a linear success story. It’s a cycle of survival. The directors didn't even know where the story was going when they started. They weren't "pitching" a movie; they were visiting friends. They actually helped Shaista get into that rehab center, which is a detail that doesn’t always make it into the shorter reviews.
Awards and the "Oscar" Buzz
This little 22-minute film went all the way to the 94th Academy Awards. It didn't win, but it was nominated for Best Documentary Short Subject. It won the Jury Award at the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival and the Cinema Eye Honors. People loved it because it didn't feel like "misery porn." It felt like a home movie that happened to be shot by world-class cinematographers.
Why You Should Care in 2026
With the Taliban back in power, watching Three Songs for Benazir feels like looking at a time capsule of a world that was already fragile and has since shattered. The Afghan National Army that Shaista wanted to join doesn't even exist anymore in the same form.
It’s a reminder that "refugee" is a temporary label, but the people underneath it have dreams that are just as vivid as yours or mine. They want to sing. They want to provide. They want to be seen as more than just a statistic.
What you can do next:
- Watch the film on Netflix: It’s only 22 minutes. You have time.
- Follow the filmmakers: Elizabeth and Gulistan Mirzaei are still active. They often share updates on the families they’ve worked with, though safety concerns in the region make details scarce.
- Support organizations like the ICRC or Sahar Education: These groups work on the ground in Afghanistan to provide the kind of support Shaista was looking for—education and healthcare.
- Look for "Laila at the Bridge": This is the Mirzaeis' feature-length documentary. If you liked the grit and heart of Three Songs, this is the logical next step. It covers the drug crisis in Kabul through the eyes of a woman who runs a treatment center under a bridge.