Countless films have been made about the Lebanese Civil War, the dominant subject of Lebanese cinema for the past 40 years. But in Vatche Boulghourjian’s striking debut film Tramontane, he wanted to tell a different story and tackle the lingering legacy of the civil war.
Director Jamal al-Moosawai wanted the new National Museum of Oman to be a space that grows and expands with its knowledge base, and is in tune with ongoing archaeological discoveries in the Arab country.
The result of a ten year collaboration between the Ministry of Heritage and Culture, the Royal Estate Affairs of Oman, Jasper Jacob Associates (J.J.A.), and Arts Architecture International Ltd (A.A.I.), the museum’s blend of the traditional and the contemporary, as well as its high-tech research facilities, make it unique in the region.
To be a cinephile in Tunis is a patriotic act. Tunisians came out in droves to last year’s Carthage Film Festival, which occurred a day after a terror attack targeting security forces.
“Everyone came out in defiance of the situation, to show their solidarity and love of cinema,” Tunisian journalist and festival staffer Yosr Hazgui said.
A different kind of horror descended upon Beirut with the opening of Maskoon Fantastic Fest, the Middle East’s first film festival for horror, fantasy, action, and science-fiction.
The brainchild of Abbout members, Lebanon’s most prominent production house, Maskoon was an attempt to expand the scope of genres undertaken by the local industry. The festival was held September 14-18.
Leila Sansour is an acclaimed filmmaker, best known for “Jeremy Hardy versus the Israeli Army.” She returned to her hometown Bethlehem to document the detrimental effect of the wall on the city and its people. She discusses her latest film, Open Bethlehem.
The following interview was edited for style and clarity.
MEI: Tell me about the genesis of this film and project, and your inspiration for it?
Ongoing conflict is robbing Iraq of both its future and its past by stripping the country of its tangible cultural heritage.[1] The Islamic State, as part of its strategy, is deliberately seeking to erase all aspects of Iraqi identity which compete with its own dogma. Iraq’s cultural heritage faces additional threats in the form of illicit looting, vandalism, government neglect, and political infighting.
Amman, Jordan – Seventeen countries from the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) and the League of Arab States convened today to launch an aggressive action plan to combat antiquities looting and the illicit trade in cultural heritage.
While the post-invasion map of Iraq is often conceived as a neatly trisected nation with a Kurdish top end, Sunni middle, and Shiite south, the reality is one of mixed marriages and common humanity.
Although the changes once-mixed and cosmopolitan Iraqi cities have experienced since 2003 are telling (see maps of changes to Baghdad neighborhood demographics since 2003), there are many people and projects that cross the post-invasion sectarian divide.
Of the numerous artists claimed by the grim reaper this year, the sudden death of veteran Egyptian filmmaker Mohamed Khan at 73 was among the most impactful. Widely considered as one of Egypt’s greatest directors, the vivacious, imposing Khan had a voracious appetite for life that concealed his real age. He was a man who always seemed to be bigger than death.
A small, darkened theater in Hackney was transformed this month into a portal for Palestine, Bradford, New York City, and a London suburb. But the quartet of monologues by Hassan Abdulrazzak—performed admirably by Asif Khan—traversed these disparate landscapes using humor as subversion, providing a unique window into otherwise humorless subjects.
A new American opera called Fallujah debuted this spring, bringing attention to post-traumatic stress disorders suffered by U.S. marines who fought in Iraq. The opera joins a list of American artworks that have explored the impact of the Iraq war on American lives. The big elephant in the room, however, are the Iraqi victims of the war and the deafening silence in U.S. discourse on the horrific consequences the war brought on them.
In their dissection of this year’s Festival de Cannes, analysts have noted the glaring absence of the most pertinent theme in present French debates: the relation of France to the Arab world following the Paris terror attacks last November. Cannes remains an exclusive club, restricted to the world’s most prominent filmmakers, the majority of whom are Cannes alumni—Ken Loach, Olivier Assayas, Pedro Almodóvar, Cristian Mungiu, and so forth. The various sidebars of the fest have made up for this omission, featuring ten pan-Arab films mostly by second-generation French Arabs.
Unsettling is perhaps the word that best describes playwright Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced. The intensity of the scenes provoked uncomfortable shuffling in seats, and reduced one audience member to tears. The Pulitzer Prize-winning play, featured by Arena Stage in Washington until May 29, should be commended for its bold attempt to tackle one of the most complex and sensitive issues dominating today’s political discourse: Islam and identity.
The exodus of Jews from the Arab world is one of the most under-recorded stories of the region’s recent history. As many as 800,000 Jews lived in Egypt, North Africa, Yemen, and the Levant prior to the creation of the state of Israel in 1948. Their stories have largely been deliberately forgotten, buried in the cellars of history for more than half a century.
When the Mongols invaded Baghdad in 1258, they laid siege to the city’s libraries, including the famed House of Wisdom—the largest in the world at the time.
A center for Muslim, Jewish, and Christian scholars, the destruction of the library remains one of the most famous examples of cultural loss during wartime.
Nine centuries later, Iraqi-American artist Wafaa Bilal has taken the fate of the House of Wisdom as a starting point for a cultural project aimed at rebuilding the library of the Baghdad College of Fine Arts, destroyed in the aftermath of the 2003 invasion.