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Festival brings
fruits of Syrian cinema to the Big Apple
'Who knew they made such good films in Syria?'
By Christopher Atamian
Special to The Daily Star
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=10&categ_id=4&article_id=24651
Review
NEW YORK: How do you make films in a country run by a quasi-socialist
dictatorship, where a state agency funds all existing production
and imposes strict limitations on the expressions of its artists?
If you're Syrian, then the answer is with a lot of skill, irony,
depth of feeling, patience - and above all talent.
Seemingly against all odds, Syrian filmmakers
have created a vibrant and diverse national cinema that holds its
own on the world scene. From documentary filmmakers such as Omar
Amiralay to veteran feature film directors such as Oussama Mohammad,
Mohammad Malas, Samir Zikra and Nabil al-Maleh, Syria has produced
a vibrant, intelligent cinema that takes risks both cinematographically
and thematically.
All this talent was on display in New York for the past two weeks
as part of a festival called "The Road to Damascus: Discovering
Syrian Cinema," which was held at the Walter Reade Theater
and organized by Arte East in collaboration with the Film Society
of Lincoln Center.
For the first time in history, the American
public was able to see - all in one place - a wealth of comedies,
historical epics and political dramas made in Syria. So unprecedented
was this showcase that Arte East - a prolific non-profit organization
whose goal is to exhibit the works of artists and filmmakers from
throughout the Middle East - is now going to tour the festival all
over North America. Under the rubric of "Lens on Syria: Thirty
Years of Contemporary Cinema," this line-up of films will travel
next to Chicago, Ottawa, Vancouver, San Francisco, Washington and
Portland.
The festival's curator, Rasha Salti, says that "of all the
'Arab cinemas,' if that category has any value, Syrian cinema is
one of its best-kept secrets, but also the most mature, individualistic,
independent-minded and accomplished."
As a result of these qualities, perhaps,
the festival in New York, which ended late last week, was well-attended
throughout. Over 80 people came together on May 7 for a roundtable
discussion on Syrian film with Amiralay, Mohammad and up-and-coming
documentarian Diana al-Jeiroudi. Their talk revealed much about
the diversity of both subject matter and theoretical concerns in
Syrian cinema.
Richard Pena, program director of the
Lincoln Center Film Society and one of the major forces responsible
for having brought the festival to fruition, moderated the discussion
and emphasized the need for a broader understanding of Arab culture.
"That's why I believe these cultural initiatives are very important,"
he explained. "They allow us to see the range of opinion in
the Arab world about all sorts of issues, as well as let us discover
some new and challenging works of art."
Salti is even more emphatic on the role
such cultural initiatives can play in the U.S.: "There are
larger questions of geopolitical representation and culture, namely
the superficial and tragic demonization of an entire region and
its people, their 'writing off,' so to speak, from the world map
of humanity as poles in the 'axis of evil.' Most Americans, it is
true, still possess only the most rudimentary knowledge of Arab
cultural achievement, past or present. One woman I spoke to after
a well-attended screening simply shrugged and said: 'Who knew they
made such good films in Syria?'"
While Egypt, for example, produces several
hundred films a year, Syria produces at most only four or five,
and those all fall under the censorious eye of the National Film
Organization.
A Soviet influence is palpable throughout
these films, as many leading Syrian filmmakers trained at the prestigious
VGIK film school in Moscow. What has emerged from this unlikely
coupling of Soviet and Arab culture is a fascinating auteur-based
school of film which undermines and criticizes the very system that
funds it with surprising frankness and ease.
Allegory and irony are ever-present,
as so many means of evading state censors. Still, despite such techniques,
some films - especially Amiralay's documentaries - are still strictly
verboten in Syria.
Oussama Mohammad's "Stars in Broad
Daylight" (1988) opened the festival and in a sense encompassed
many of the themes affecting Syrian society as a whole and Syrian
film in particular. This ingenious film tells of Khalil, a town
patriarch and bully who tries to marry off his sister against her
will and another woman to his brother - both are in love with other
people, of course.
Khalil's only motives are to consolidate
his control of the village and enrich himself in the process, all
through the perverse imposition of his will on others. This allegorical
tale is a brutal critique of patriarchy, traditional values and
the subservience of women in such a societal paradigm.
In the film, large posters of one of
the wedding singers plaster the city walls - reminiscent of the
ubiquitous posters of Hafez al-Assad in real-life Syria, and an
emblem of the personality cults that fuel dictatorships.
In this clever allegory, Mohammad demonstrates
how the brutality of Assad's rule (and the human impoverishment
it brought about) are reproduced metonymically throughout society.
Just as one of the brides in question has been raped, so has society.
Khalil not only turns a blind eye to the event, but indirectly encourages
the practice by suborning all other concerns to this quest for control
and power.
Omar Amiralay holds a unique place among the world's documentary
filmmakers. Born in Damascus, of mixed Circassian and Lebanese origin,
Amiralay employs irony to unprecedented effect in order to undercut
the very system that he is meant to be lauding.
In "The Chickens" (1977),
which was censored in Syria, Amiralay takes viewers into one of
Assad's failed agricultural schemes to have Syrian villagers raise
chickens. Not only are the economics of the project off, but the
plan also becomes a get-rich scheme for the villagers, who otherwise
have little hope of improving their standards of living.
By the end of the film we have almost
as much contempt for the villagers as for the Syrian government
itself. The last scene is a particular stroke of genius, as the
villagers' speech turns into the clucking of chickens. The implication
is hard to miss - the villagers are no better than the livestock
they keep.
In "Film Essay on the Euphrates Dam" (1970) and "A
Flood in Baath Country" (2003), Amiralay exposes the disastrous
effects of 35 years of Baath rule on Syria, as exemplified by a
failed dam project whose very engineering details were incorrect
from the outset.
Another festival standout was Nabil
al-Maleh's "The Extras" (1993), which again encapsulates
so many issues pertinent to Syrian society, while at the same time
touching on universal themes including love, freedom and the ineradicable
human desire to create.
All of the action takes place within
a single, small apartment that the protagonist, a car mechanic and
aspiring actor and director named Salem, borrows from a friend so
he can spend a few hours alone with a pretty young widower, Nada.
Unlike the mechanic, the widower is filled with fear: fear of being
seen, discovered, spied upon. In Assad's Syria, fear can become
a character all its own. Salem does everything he can to allay Nada's
fears, including putting on a play for her - something she has never
seen before.
But at one point, a secret service agent
knocks on the door to enquire about a blind oud player who lives
next door. The agent returns toward the end of the film and beats
Salem, as well as the oud player. Humiliated by the experience,
Nada flees the apartment, never to return.
In this completely self-contained, perfectly told tale, we again
meet up with familiar themes such as the government's abuse of power
and the subservience of women, even within the great capital itself.
The acting in "The Extras"
- whose cast includes Samar Sami, Bassam Koussa, Mohammad al-Shaikh
Najib and Wafa Mouselli - is uniformly superb. Maleh deserves credit
for pulling off such a successful film with such low production
values.
"The Road to Damascus" festival was a meaningful first
step in broadening American knowledge of Syrian culture. It didn't
draw huge audiences, but it was certainly a positive indication
that with the correct support and marketing, Arab culture can begin
to make inroads in even the toughest of markets.
" I wish some kind of pan-Arab
fund could be set up so we could see new Arab films, artworks, get
novels and poetryi n translation, enjoy dance troupes, etc., on
a very frequent basis," said Pena. "Unhappily, this kind
of cultural promotion seems to be a very low priority in the Arab
world."
Not long ago, a Syrian film festival
would also have seemed low-priority. Perhaps "Lens on Syria"
is a first step toward realizing Pena and Arte East's vision.
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