“Centennial of Arab Cinema” Showcases Films From Around World

by Katherine M. Metres

For five weeks this fall, New York film lovers fed up with American mass media’s stereotypes and slights against Arab culture received an unusual treat. The Film Society of Lincoln Center and August Light Productions collaborated to present 41 films from across the Arab world as the centerpiece of “The Centennial of Arab Cinema.” The ambitious undertaking could have rested on the laurels of constituting the largest presentation of Arab cinema ever shown in the United States. Yet the series exhibited only probing films of high artistic caliber.

The centennial commemorated the 100 years of Arab film since the first Egyptian short subject was premiered in 1896. The series vividly demonstrated that, today, the struggling Egyptian film industry is no longer the only significant source of Arab films. Other parts of the Arab world—especially Tunisia and Syria—possess contemporary film directors capable of producing compelling art. Notable films from Algeria, Kuwait, Lebanon, Morocco and Palestine also found a place in the series.

The atmosphere at the festival reflected the Arab-American community’s appreciation of the chance to view these films, most of which were being shown in the U.S. for the first time. Chatting excitedly with old and new friends, waiting filmgoers enjoyed an exhibition of classic film posters. Those interested in learning about the artistic and social issues underlying the films also attended a mini-conference at the opening of the centennial. There Arab film critics and academics discussed “Colonialism, Post-Colonialism, and National Identity in Arab Cinema” and “Culture and Ideology in Arab Cinema.” Filmmakers presented a round table.

Asked by the Washington Report what inspired the film festival, Richard Peøa, program director of the Film Society and centennial co-curator, said that the society had wanted to present such a series for a long time. Even though Arab cinema is “rich and diverse,” he noted, it remains a “shamefully neglected area of international film production.” Peøa wanted to “show people the extraordinary variety of styles and opinions” in Arab countries and counteract media stereotypes of Arabs.

The Rockefeller and Ford foundations made the project realizable by underwriting English captioning, restoration of older films, and travel for directors and panelists. Peøa’s vision resonated with Alia Arasoughly, the Palestinian-born director of August Light Productions, who became co-curator. The Washington Report sampled five of the festival’s extraordinary films.

“The Land” (Al-Ard), by master Egyptian filmmaker Youssef Chahine, is a gripping story of feudalism and resistance. Lushly filmed, “The Land” depicts the struggle of a village to maintain its land, livelihood and solidarity in the face of government restrictions and indulgence of privilege. In the face of a bureaucratic decision to halve their irrigation rights, the men of the village try to organize themselves but turn their frustration against each other. After harmony is restored by the imperative of cooperatively rescuing a cow from a well, the village sends an intermediary to Cairo to plead its case.

When diplomacy fails, the men engage in civil disobedience, and the regime cracks down on the defiant village. In an unforgettable final scene, government agents drag to his death an old man whose will to oppose tyranny could not be squelched. Abu Swelem clutches at the land as if it represents his life force. Based on a book by Abd Al-Rahman Al-Sharqawi, Chehine’s film uses the motif of the noble peasant to dramatize the social and personal costs of unresponsive government.

In contrast to Chehine’s serious epic style, Burhane Allaouie of Lebanon explores the grave subject of sectarianism through a boy-girl movie that is self-consciously campy. “Beirut the Encounter” (Beirut Al-Liqa) struck a lot of chords when it was released in 1982. The story goes like this: When telephone service between East and West Beirut is re-established during a peaceful period in the Lebanese civil war, a Shi’i named Haidar makes contact with his former college love, a Christian named Zeina. The different circumstances of the two communities are underlined by Haidar’s brother’s nostalgia for the village they were forced to flee and Zeina’s plans to leave for America.

To see Zeina, Haidar must cross the Green Line that separates Christian East Beirut from the Muslim western section, but they miss each other at the appointed place. Then their only opportunity for communication is to make tapes for each other and exchange them at the airport. But waiting for her the next morning, Haidar decides against what would be a heartbreaking encounter. Leaving without seeing her, he destroys his tapes. Allaouie seems to be saying that the situational obstacles of being from two warring communities are too much for a relationship to bear.

Another film that explores the alienation theme is “Navigators of the Desert” (Al-Ila’imun) directed by Nacer Khemir of Tunisia. In this movie, the government sends a young man to teach in an obscure village. Upon arrival, Hussein learns that the oasis on which the village once survived has been overtaken by the desert. Stranger still, the young men of the village have been cursed and turned into perpetual wanderers in the desert. Eventually, enticed by his host’s beautiful daughter, Hussein is led to join the other wanderers.

Wrapped in metaphor, the film may be read as a depiction of labor migration (here caused by environmental damage to the village economy) and the estrangement that often accompanies it. Seeking the financial stability required for marriage (here to the beautiful daughter), many young Arab men must leave the cocoon of their communities. Some may feel lost, and their parents mourn their absence.

Not all parents long for the return of their children, however. In “City Dreams” (Ahlam Al-Madinah) by Muhammad Malas of Syria, a young widow (Ilayat) who returns to her father’s home seeking a sanctuary for her two boys is cruelly rejected. They sleep on the street until a neighbor intervenes to force the father to let them in. This film intertwines a personal narrative, which is partly autobiographical, with national events (such as the union of Syria and Egypt) that in retrospect seem just as much to be dreams.

The older son takes on the role of “man of the family” even though he is years shy of puberty. Working in a Damascus laundry he witnesses the vicissitudes of Syrian politics: a man is beaten because he started a political party, a storekeeper changes the picture in his window after a coup, and he himself is beaten for singing the wrong political song. Meanwhile, Umm Adnan, an older lady with ample cleavage and an even bigger personality, serves as a comic foil to the earnest young mother. Umm Adnan convinces her to remarry in order to get out of her abusive father’s house, even though she will have to leave her children to do so.

When her son finds out that Ilayat’s new husband is as bad as her father, he resolves to seek revenge. Unable to break down the door behind which the man escapes, the desperate boy hits his head against it until, bloodied, he faints. Oblivious to such personal torment, society continues to believe in superficial proclamations of Arab unity. One man notes the confluence of the weather and the news by saying, “Even mighty God is for the Union.” Wiser for the passage of time, the audience laughs. Syria’s leaders are chasing after dreams while its citizens are living in nightmares.

“Silences of the Palace” by Moufida Tlatli of Tunisia (the only woman director in the series) puts a spotlight on the oppression of women servants by the Turkish boys. This moving story is told through the eyes of a young woman named Alia, whose occupation as a singer entertaining socialites clearly depresses her. Her anomie is exacerbated by her boyfriend’s unwillingness to marry her in spite of repeated unplanned pregnancies.

Searching for the meaning of her life, Alia returns to the place where she grew up with her mother (Khedija) and father—though she never knew who he was. She recalls her tortured adolescence in which she became aware that her mother danced for men—a taboo in Arab society—and was forced to serve them sexually. The young Alia had taken comfort in music and begun performing for guests. Yet her performing exposed her to the boy’s lustful eye. Khedija saved her daughter from rape by letting the boy rape her instead.

As the French were crushing a nationalist uprising, Alia gained her liberation by singing to the bourgeois guests, "You have handed Tunisia over to the enemy.” Just as Alia is ending her silence, however, her mother is screaming in pain as she dies of an illegal abortion. Remembering this in the present day, Alia resolves to make a new start. She speaks to her mother’s soul: “Like you, I’ve lived in silence. My life has been a series of abortions. My songs were stillborn. This child will bring me back to you. I hope it’s a girl. I will call her Khedija.”

The curtain comes down to audible audience sniffling. Wiping her own eyes, the director fielded questions. Tlatli said that the film was inspired by her adolescent daughter’s queries about sexuality and freedom. Women in her country gained their legal rights though the progressive Tunisian code, yet “the [patriarchal] mentality continues.” Asked pedantically why she spoke in French rather than Arabic, she responded, smiling, “I am a victim of colonialism.” Hardly a victim, Tlatli indicated that films like hers could not be made without French co-production and financing.

If the films reviewed here speak for the series, the Centennial served as a showcase for Arab cinema’s originality, range, perception, and unflinching dedication to the truth. Those lucky enough to attend the festival gained a richer sense of Arab history, humor and heart through the eye of the camera.

Note: “The Centennial of Arab Cinema” will be presented at the Pacific Film Archive in Berkeley, CA beginning Jan. 25. For information call (510) 642-1412.