E. Nina Rothe2013-05-21T15:29:52-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.news.moviefone.com/author/index.php?author=e-nina-rotheCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for E. Nina RotheGood old fashioned elbow grease.Believing: Hany Abu-Assad's Omar Gets Standing Ovation in Cannestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.33134032013-05-21T12:20:17-04:002013-05-21T13:41:04-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/
It is said that a great film should make you walk out of the cinema feeling like a better person. But with his latest oeuvre Omar, Palestinian filmmaker Hany Abu-Assad made me want to be a better person.
Omar also left me yearning for a world where I wouldn't form a preconceived opinion of a character based on his nationality, where neighbors would not be separated by walls built by governments and where the young and hopeful wouldn't be penalized for being what makes them perfectly human -- young and hopeful.
The most brilliant aspect of Abu-Assad's masterpiece -- a word thrown around a lot in conversations all around Cannes after its world premiere in the "Un Certain Regard" section, but also how Omar star Adam Bakri perfectly sums up the film -- is the intentionally blurred line that divides good from evil, present within every richly constructed character in Abu-Assad's original story. While real life is always lived in varied shades of grey, I find most filmmakers shy away from the complex challenges constructing such human characters would create within a script.
Of course, sitting across from Abu-Assad, one quickly realizes he is unlike most filmmakers, and that's why Omar is such a multi-layered, touching and wonderfully complex film. When I ask him to explain these complexities, his answer leaves me wanting to ask many, many more:
I discovered a long time ago that as human beings we are both good and bad within ourselves. And situations can make you a bad person or a good person. If you had a good education, good parents who will teach you values, your good traits will be the dominant ones, but if you are coming from a ghetto, your situation will force you to bring the bad side out, even if it's the same human being. When I discovered that, I felt it's not always honest the representation of characters in movies. Because in movies we would like to have a very clear idea of who is the bad guy and who is good. And most people want to see that, by the way. So I thought, ambiguity is not attractive for an audience in general but if you do it right, meaning you keep the audience emotionally involved, and entertain them, they will keep going with the story, wanting to find out what's going on."
Omar was filmed in Nablus, Nazareth and the jail scenes in Bisan, where Abu-Assad used an old building just outside the city because, in his words, "you can't shoot in a real jail from a security point of view."
As blurred as the lines of humanity are in Omar, the physical borders are clearly delineated by a wall -- a tremendous, intrusive, terrifyingly tall weapon of mass separation. It's a wall unlike the ones we are used to seeing on the news, because it wasn't built to separate the Palestinians from the Israelis, rather to keep apart neighbors, families and lovers, like Omar and his beloved Nadja (Leem Lubany). But this is like the walls that are the everyday reality of Palestinians, where most borders have been created to debilitate, not protect. Abu-Assad's elaborates, "if you look at the map of the walls they're dividing cities and villages, refugee camps and it doesn't matter which side you are on, it's just there, this wall dividing the same city."
Eyad Hourani, who plays Omar's friend Tarek in the film explains that as Palestinians "we are the same of any youth in the world," and continues, "we have friends, we love, we have a life but how can you manage your life and how to develop your dreams in this hard place?" When I ask him if there is a solution, he points out that yes, there is one but "not now, maybe the new generation can find a place to make it better. Though I don't know what is better, maybe everyone living his and her life, and enjoying it."
The handsome Adam Bakri, who comes from a great cinematic family (his father Mohammad and brother Saleh are both beloved stars) is less doubtful. When I ask him if there is a solution to the Palestinian struggle he admits, "I'm an optimistic guy and I think it's gonna happen one day. Something really, really, really great is gonna happen while I'm alive, and while my parents are alive." And about cinema helping to bridge the divide, he says "definitely, and I really hope this film is going to be seen all over the place, because it has such a strong message to humanity, and it deserves to be watched."
At the core of Omar, stands a connection between two men, two unlikely heroes full of faults and human traits. While I admit that I went into the film with some pretty well-defined allegiances -- a reader once commented on a piece I wrote "you can either be for Israel or against it," protesting my loyalty to the Palestinian cause -- the character of Rami, the Israeli agent assigned to Omar's case, left me torn. Mid-screening I scribbled in my notebook about him and Omar "two men who are clearly different from the rest" and today, more then twenty-four hours later, I'm still seduced by Rami's character, and the charismatic actor who plays him, Waleed F. Zuaiter.
When I ask how he played him, Zuaiter admits, "as an actor, I try to portray every character that I play with as much humanity, as many conflicting aspects of his personality." He continues, "to me there was nothing controversial about Rami, he's a good person with a very bad job."
Zuaiter is also a producer on Omar, because, as he puts it, "I read the script, I said I love the role of Rami but I'm head over heels in love with the script, and to do a Palestinian film is not easy." He continues, "Hany and I had a shared dream that we could get Palestinians to invest in the talent and the community and the filmmaking, because most Palestinian films are funded from European government funds or from abroad, and here we are." Ninety-five percent funded by Palestinian private investors, Omar also benefited from Enjaaz, the post-production fund of the Dubai International Film Festival which, in Zuaiter's words, "has been great, they are the type of organization we want to have on our side and they are affiliated with the film festival, so it's great."
Omar is a film that needs to be watched again and again, savored, discussed and then watched again. Abu-Assad calls it "an homage to Sydney Pollack's political thrillers" but is quick to point out that political discussions should be kept out of movies, where they can "become very boring."
While I believe that filmmakers would make the best politicians, Abu-Assad, devoid of all complexes of grandeur, doesn't think cinema can fix a bad situation -- in fact his exact answer is "no way!" -- because "politicians are responsible for fixing the future of our sons and daughters, not we, the artists." And in his devastatingly honest way concludes that "nowadays I feel that politicians have become failures, wherever they are."
Yet Omar touches on the great collective global soul that is so often left out of political discussions, laws and the media reports. My wish is for this film to reach the most hidden recesses of the world, the dark corners of the most inflexible minds, to teach a lesson or two in how we all just basically want to live and let live, love and be loved, and most of all, be understood.
Photo and film clip courtesy of Film Press Plus, used with permission]]>What Did the Stars Get? A Guide to VIP Gifts in Cannes (PHOTOS)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.33068072013-05-20T11:38:43-04:002013-05-20T13:20:56-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/66th edition of the most famous film festival in the world. From the Chanel windows strategically placed right across from the Palais de Festival, to the ever-flowing lavish new coffee blends served at the Nespresso bars inside the grandiose venue. Even when I decide to stop for a moment and step away from the epicenter of all things cinema taking place on the Croisette, I end up watching a melange of great poodles, wondrous fashions and all around French elegance from my side street seat (and delicious meal) at Le Petit Paris brasserie on Avenue des Belges.
So Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Lawrence, Naomi Watts and the likes have their pick of Chanel, the company is hosting a special couture lounge inside the Majestic, Swarovski jewels, handbags and Jimmy Choo shoes, all framed by the beautifying treatments at Dior. But the most coveted spot in the gift lounge firmament belongs to Nathalie Dubois who runs the Cannes 2013 DPA Lounge in a suite at the Carlton Hotel, where all celebrities -- and some very, very lucky writers -- get to frolic surrounded by refreshments, great beauty treatments, fun clothing and wonderful jewelry.
Personal favorites include the hippie chic bracelets by Kim & Zozi, trendy yet wearable red carpet fashions by Ukrainian designer Olena Dats', the totes and pillows at Teo Jasmin, all featuring the adorable Teo the bulldog, the Bio Effect EGF Serum made in Iceland, which includes a Nobel-prize winning ingredient in its formula, Sal y Limon bangles, Padina eyelash conditioner from Japan, and Batiste dry shampoo. Who knew washing one's hair could be optional.
Anyway, for some very short but wonderfully exciting moments, I felt like a star too, surrounded by the wonders of the DPA Gift Lounge. And then, back on the rainy Croisette -- this year the weather did not cooperate during the first few days of the festival -- with those pesky traffic officers shouting at me to cross the street in the right spot, I remembered who I am once more. No, not Nicole Kidman -- not in this lifetime.
Top photo by E. Nina Rothe, all images in slideshow courtesy of DPA Gift Lounge in Cannes, used with permission]]>The Doha Film Institute in Cannes: The Power of Two (Festivals)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.33009152013-05-19T03:28:34-04:002013-05-19T10:12:45-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/Doha Film Institute in the past 12 months, including a switch in management, an allegiance dissolved and a clear trend to return to its well-intentioned roots -- helping to build on a cinematic culture in the Arab world and throughout the Gulf.
But perhaps the most important step is what was just announced by DFI on May 18th in Cannes, the one great bit of news on an otherwise rainy, gloomy day on the Riviera. The annual slate for the film institute in Qatar will include two festivals, the Qumra Film Festival Doha, to focus on emerging directors and kicking off in March 2014, with a competition to expand to films from around the world, and the Ajyal Film Festival for the Young which will offer community-based programming, with its first edition in November 2013. This announcement follows the recent appointment of groundbreaking filmmaker Elia Suleiman as Artistic Advisor to DFI.
For someone like me who sees within cinema the single most important bridge between cultures that haven't always seen eye to eye, the announcements are huge.
I caught up with Abdulaziz Al Khater, CEO of DFI, Fatma Al Remaihi, the Festival Director of the Ajyal Film Festival for the Young and Elia Suleiman at the Majestic on the Croisette and asked them each to define their own vision for DFI, within their very important individual roles in the organization.
Abdulaziz Al Khater
What do you hope to achieve with this new format?
AAK: DFI's mission is to develop a culture of film appreciation, to develop filmmakers from the Middle East and the region. When you look at that, it seems like a one-statement goal but for us, for me personally it is a very important one. Our region is incredibly rich in stories and we come from a storytelling culture, I think it's very important that we're able to tell these stories in a way that's compelling and that has reach. And film, in today's world, is one of the most powerful mediums.
What to do about the current "us against them" mentality present in the world?
AAK: We only have ourselves to blame for this feeling. When we reevaluated our festival, our grants program we realized so long as we keep it MENA and Arab we will always be closed in on ourselves. Hence the primary motivation for the change has been to internationalize what we're doing. To create a meeting place, where people can share ideas and collaborate. Not exclusive to Middle Easterners. One of the expressions H.H. Sheikha Mayassa always uses and I like very much is "We want to bring the world to Qatar, and take Qatar to the world."
Why two festivals?
AAK: The format of our festival had family days but we realized that we couldn't afford that kind of lack of focus. We love the family days and the ideas of our festival and lets give them each what they deserve and create two festivals, one for the youth, their parents and their teachers in November, while the other festival will be very, very focused on emerging filmmakers but international. The competition will be open to first and second time filmmakers. With the March festival, it's a tremendous opportunity to gather people in Doha and discuss what we love, which is cinema. We want to create a year-round hub, not only seven or eight days of festival, in support of a year-long program of our grants, our programs, our labs, also refocused on emerging filmmaker.
Fatma Al Remaihi
Why an Ajyal Film Festival for the Young?
FAR: From the past experiences we learned many things, like for example that our community needs a lot of focus. We are building an industry and if you are doing it, you need to build an audience with it, build the filmmakers and we want to start with the very young and get them interested. We saw from the past four years that there's a huge appetite for it. People will be very excited that we're focusing on them and building a cinema culture within this community. Everyone will have something in the family festival.
What do you think of cinema as a means to bridge cultures?
FAR: For me, I've been going to festivals and watching films from around the world, and personally it has made me see that we all share the same issues, the same difficulties in life, day by day. A story may take place in Europe but I face the same problem in my house or my family. When I even talk to producers from around the world, their challenges are the same as ours in Qatar, though they are established industries. It makes me believe that this big world of ours is really a small village. And watching a film is so much better than watching the news.
So when you say "family festival" it's not going to be just about Finding Nemo?
FAR: No, absolutely not. It will include films with substance, films that bring families together, that bridge the gap between the generations that we have now, with kids so tech savvy and their parents trying to keep up. The clash that is happening, even for me on a personal level, I want to benefit from the festival as a woman with a family.
Elia Suleiman
Just by being you, culturally so complex, you shatter the divides of "the other" mentality. How do you think you can help bridge the Arab world and the Western world?
ES: There are many levels where we could take this conversation but if we talk about what I'm doing in Doha, I can at least say this, I come with that package because of the sort of films that I make. Because of the sort of upbringing I have. I was not educated in one place, it was a nomadic culture experience. I'm fed on American and European and far worldly cinema and books, in NY at its best time, in the 80s and 90s.
How will this help the Doha Film Institute?
ES: I don't believe in Occident and Orient, and I don't think that the Orient is so oriental and the Occident is so occidental. I think it has been an interchange. If we put colonialism and post-colonialism on the side, I don't know how we can point out one thing that is truly Arian and one thing that is purely Arab, it's all mingled for centuries. I'm coming naturally to continue what has been happening for hundreds of years. The problem is when we are saying Occident and Orient, Arab and non-Arab or us and them, I think this is a post-colonial residue. This festival is not going to be about what is Arab and what is not Arab, this is a house of culture - and not a question of "whose culture". It's an equally shared interchange, cultural esthetic environment. We are talking about an international film festival. And it's not a new invention, it's to bring back what has been happening for hundreds of years.
What are going to be your challenges?
ES: What I'm doing is as an artistic advisor so I'm not on the ground level, I'm throwing concepts and debating ideas. I don't have a particular challenge because I'm absolutely certain that if one is sincere, if one is well intentioned I don't think it's a challenge but exciting, interesting and it simply gives me pleasure to do this.
As a daughter of divorce, I'm painfully aware of how kids can be made pawns in the games their parents play. But what if out of that pain we managed to created another game of our own, this time as adults, recreating our parent's life? This concept is exactly what made Karim Goury's documentary The Man Inside a wonderfully important and personal film, one that I walked away from at once touched and disturbed by at the recent Gulf Film Festival. The Man Inside follows Goury on a journey inside the room in Kuwait where his father lived the last few years of his life, and places him on the path of several momentous discoveries.
Goury himself is the perfect spokesperson for all well adjusted, now fully grown up and integrated children of divorce. He's boyishly handsome, kind, well spoken and refreshingly insightful on his lack of withheld pain. I'm always amused when people's faces betray a bit of feeling sorry for me when they hear my story. While it's true my father is no longer actively in my life, I'm perfectly fine with that, actually more than OK. So meeting Goury is a bit like looking in a mirror, a balanced mirror, and his film provided an explanation for so much inside me, so much I'd never fully articulated but nonetheless experienced and subconsciously felt.
I caught up with Goury in Dubai during GFF, after his film's success at the Dubai International Film Festival last December. Currently, The Man Inside is at the Cannes Film Festival's Marché du Film, in the Doc Corner.
Why did you choose to tell your story, from inside your father's hotel room?
Karim Goury: Maybe because the film I made before [Made in Egypt] was a documentary done in the classical way, with interviews, with a journey, movement, and as I felt I still had something to say about this story and go further, I didn't want to make the same film. I thought that with the audiotape, the voice of my father and his letters, I wanted to let my father's voice bring the life in the movie, while I'm just standing still in this room. My point was to be in this space, in his place, trying to understand, trying to see the things that he saw, hearing the things that he heard, even with thirty years of a gap.
How do you deal with the hurt of a father you never knew? And how do you go through making an entire film, bringing up that hurt day after day after day?
KG: I'm not sure I suffer still. I used to. It's so abstract, I never met him, I never knew him, I never saw him, it's strange to explain. It's as if he was not my father after all -- but still, he's my father. I'm from his blood, and on the other hand he's just a movie character. I decided to have fun with him, to use him as an actor and to make movies. I got rid of the bad things a long time ago.
You received some post-production help through Enjaaz, part of the Dubai International Film Festival, but what was your total budget for the film?
KG: About 40,000 euros, more or less. I filmed it all myself. I shot with a 7D Canon camera which was challenging when I had to set up the shots.
Now that you've made two films about your father, have you thought about making it a trilogy?
KG: Maybe the religious way is a diptych, so that's an option. Maybe the third part, if there is a trilogy, it will be later. Now I don't have a project about my father, I have to let him rest a bit but you never know. The question is always asked of me, are you done with him, because at the end of the film it's like a liberation and I leave him behind.
But it's not that simple, is it?
KG: It's like a relationship I have with my father, maybe in months, in years, I have to go back to him somehow, ask him something and the answer will be a film. When I made Made in Egypt, I was discovering him, then the situation changed. I got married, had children, and maybe because of my own personal situation I had to refer to him again and ask him "what is to be a father?" What kind of father were you and what kind of father do I have to be? So I made a film maybe to have answers, to ask questions.
What would you say to filmmakers in the Gulf region, young directors who are just starting out?
KG: The first thing is shoot. It's possible to shoot now, and especially for this region the technology is not a problem for them. But also be careful of the technology and don't be seduced by nice images, what is important is what's inside, the content and to be genuine and try to look within ourselves to make something interesting. Often people make cinema by making what they've already seen in films and that's boring to me. I prefer a film that is less nicely constructed or not that well shot but very personal and from inside. "Inside" is a good word for me!
Images courtesy of the Dubai International Film Festival, used with permission]]>Cannes 2013: Savoring the Opening Night Dinner by Chef Anne-Sophie Pictag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.32908102013-05-17T04:11:04-04:002013-05-18T05:45:55-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/Cannes. Turns out, for those who have films in the festival or are on one of the juries this year, the event is as much about food and gifts as it is about films.
Rumors abound in Cannes, from the one about The Bling Ring crew snubbing their fans in front of the Palais des Festivals at their premiere last night, to Nicole Kidman declaring how much she loves the rain, while Carey Mulligan cursed out who hit her on the head with an umbrella coming out of her limo. This is undoubtedly an event that grows more and more surreal each day, but it is still the greatest cinematic show on earth.
So when the team at Electrolux invited me to sit at a Chef's Table lunch the day after the opening night gala and sample the incredible creations of chef Anne-Sophie Pic, which were served to Leonardo DiCaprio and the entire world of VIPs who'd descended on Cannes for the premiere of The Great Gatsby, I RSVPd with a giant, bold "YES!" The Agora Electrolux pavilion sits just to the left of the Palais and while we dined on our gala lunch, Steven Spielberg and his fellow jury members ate next door, starting out with a fragrant zucchini risotto.
Chef Pic is, very simply put, a superstar of the cooking world. At once humble and wonderfully insightful, she talked us through a four course meal that included Alverta Impérial® caviar, king crab and a Caribbean chocolate pot de crème to die for. She also shared the recipe for her entrée with green peas, something not always done in the cooking world but oh, so appreciated.
The lunch was presented gracefully by our server Yohan, who also suggested a light red wine with the fish main dish, which ended up being the most daring thing I've done so far in Cannes, but one I'll definitely be repeating soon.
And all thanks to the wonderful folks at Electrolux, who quite simply know how to make a kitchen worthy of a Michelin (make that three in Pic's case) star chef.
Following this slideshow of the meal, is chef Pic's recipe, which may be the stuff chef's dreams are made of, but alas, too complicated for me. I'll just have to join her at her restaurant Maison Pic in Valence to sample more of her delicious, light, fragrant food.
"Green Peas and Alverta Imperial® Caviar"
(green peas and white cream of sweet onions and bergamot)
Ingredients for 10 persons
The peas puree:
• 250 g fresh shelled peas
• 1/4 liter of mineral water
• 8 gelatin sheets per liter
• salt
The water of peas:
• 250 g fresh shelled peas
• 700 ml of mineral water
• 6 gelatin sheets per liter
• salt
The onions emulsion:
• 250 g of onions
• 1/2 liter of mineral water
• 8 gelatin sheets per liter
• salt
• 20 bergamot leaves per liter
• 2 lemon zest
Imperial caviar Alverta
• 5 gr of caviar per person
Dressage:
• 10 cl white balsamic vinegar
• 20 cl of olive oil
Preparation:
For the peas puree: Put in boiling water with salt, 300 g of shelled peas. They should be well cooked. Place them in ice water; keep 50 g of peas, and peel it. Mix the peas with mineral water (for 250 g of peas, it takes 1/4 liter of water). Add salt. Add the gelatin in the mixture. Flow the preparation into soup plates and keep it in the fridge.
For the water of peas: Put in boiling water with salt, the shelled peas. Place them in ice water. Mix the peas with 180 ml of ice-cold mineral water in a thermomix for 30 seconds. Let drain overnight in a large colander covered with a sieving towel. Collect the water of peas and add the gelatin in the proportions given above.
Put some salt and flow the preparation into soup plates and keep it in the fridge.
For the onion emulsion: Cook the onions without fat with some water and then add mineral water. Slowly decrease until 400 g total mass and put into "Chinese" sieve. After that, put the mixture in a receptacle and make it boil, then add the bergamot leaves, finely chopped. Let infuse for 20 minutes. Season the liquid and add the gelatin sheets (8 gelatine sheets per liter) and place the liquid in a siphon. Refrigerate the emulsion by placing the siphon in ice water. Add two gas cartridges.
Dressage: Place a disc of 5 g of caviar in the center of the plate. Add the peas around previously peeled and seasoned. At the time of the service, add the onions cream over the caviar using a disc of 7cm diameter, dot with white balsamic vinegar and olive oil.
All photos by Ian Gavan/WireImage for Electrolux, used with permission]]>Haider Rashid's It's About to Rain: Holding Up a Mirror to Injusticetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.32659712013-05-13T10:45:46-04:002013-05-13T10:45:48-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/
There is a collective question currently being asked around the world: What does it mean to belong to a country, to be a certified, true citizen somewhere?
Haider Rashid, a multicultural filmmaker who was born in Florence of an Iraqi father and an Italian mother, asks that question in his new film It's About to Rain, and in the process raises many more. To Rashid, Italy is home. Yet his worldliness is undeniable, from his knowledge of several languages to his insights on both Italy and the Arab world. Rashid also touches on what seems to be a trend in today's world -- understanding deeply the plight of those fitting in everywhere but never truly belonging anywhere.
For me personally, born in Italy of German and Italian parents, having lived most of my adult life in the United States, writing about films from India and the Middle East, the entire world and no place at all feel like home -- depending on which day you ask. It's no coincidence that after watching It's About to Rain in Dubai, during the recent Gulf Film Festival, the film stayed with me, raised many inner discussions and needed a second viewing to fully sink in.
Luckily, I ended up watching Rashid's film again in Rome, where It's About to Rain is enjoying a theatrical run at the moment. It felt good to be among Italians who understood the issues so well. And even better to, afterward, get to ask Rashid a few questions about what inspired his film, what it means to be Italian, but also how come the story of It's About to Rain translates so perfectly to the issues currently raised in the U.S. by the new immigration bills.
How did the idea for your film come about?
Haider Rashid: It's a subject I have thought about for a long time. My next film Babylon was actually written two years ago and focuses on a second generation Iraqi-born, bred in Italy. So when I decided to put it aside and make a smaller film I thought it would be interesting to tell the story of a young man having issues with his lack of citizenship. Initially it was meant to be a film about an eighteen-year-old's last available day to apply for citizenship -- people born in Italy from immigrant parents can only apply for citizenship between the age of 18 and 19 and must prove that they have resided in the country their whole life -- but I later thought it would be interesting to enrich the story with more mature characters and their family's past and present struggles. The idea for the film was born as a bet between Masoud Amralla Al Ali -- the artistic director of the Dubai Film Festival -- and myself. Last May, during a casual lunch we were having at the Cannes Film Festival, he dared me to make a film in time for his festival in December. With pride and perhaps stupidity, I agreed. He noted it down on his calendar, while friends around me were telling me "you're getting into trouble, don't do this." And you just don't escape a promise made to Masoud easily, he is determined and serious, especially when it comes to filmmakers and their films. The deadline was August 7th; I gave him a rough cut by September 7th, and in December we premiered the film in Dubai. When I saw him at the festival I ran and hugged him, even if we had been far apart, it was like he was on set with me. He tried to make me promise I'd give him a new film this year, but I'm not sure I could pull it off once again in such a short time.
How much of you is in the lead character Said? And where do your stories differ?
HR: I feel close to Said's determination, to his will to fight against what he believes is wrong, in his belief in doing things in a certain "right" way. It comes from my parents, who are real fighters in life and have amazingly strong morals and ideals. I know the feeling of being swept up very well, of feeling the pain of the first punch and then standing up and carrying on. The pain is different, but it's what we do on a daily basis making these types of films on our own. Yet I also know that feeling of displacement, of looking in the eyes of a parent who's longing for somewhere else, or feels guilty when they receive a certain call from faraway. In my first film Tangled up in Blue, there was a line from a poem that was often recited: "Exile is a beast. It's a beast that is inside us, around us." All of that, and the questions Said poses himself about his identity is my personal projection on the character. But my experience of life in my city and my country is as happy as Said's before the news of having to leave Italy hits him. And for that I only have my parents to thank, who built an amazing and happy life for me from nothing.
The "Dream Act", and now the "Gang of Eight Bill" is about this very issue in the U.S., but for immigrants who came as children. Said and his brother in the film were born in Italy. It's absurd that they are not citizens. In your opinion, what needs to be changed in Italian politics to avoid this?
HR: A change that must happen inside the hearts and minds of Italians. Politics are behind, they always have been in this country. There are only few politicians who understand what is happening, what has happened in this country. We are mixed. Maybe now some of us are black, have names that are weird-sounding, have different religions, but this country has always been mixed and torn. Our own identity is a question, is a Sicilian the same as a Milanese or a Romano? So who are we to tell a young man or woman who was born here, who has gone through school, through the pains and pleasures of childhood and adolescence in this country of different dialects, beliefs and cultures, that he or she does not belong here and does not have the same rights as the people they've sat next to their whole life? The change has taken place, it has happened. If some want to live in the illusion that this country could be kept "pure" they can, but the reality is different. It is unstoppable and beautiful, and the politics of fear and xenophobia have no future. It's nature deciding, we can't and have no right to stop it.
What are your plans for It's About to Rain?
HR: It's About to Rain is currently finding its space in Italian theaters, with much difficulty but nonetheless success. The audience seems to relate to it and feel close to the characters. An old man yesterday told us "watching this film is like seeing a heavy piece of furniture being moved," as his eyes were filling with tears, "and hearing it screech on the floor with pain because it just doesn't want to and shouldn't be moved." We would love to get it to the U.S., we are working on it, and I think people would relate to it there too. I intentionally tried to make a film that could speak to a wider audience, to anyone who can relate to the deep love and affection for a parent and fighting against injustice.
You gracefully steer clear of racism in your film. But it's an undeniable fact in Italy, as anywhere in the world. Have you personally ever experienced racism?
HR: I experience prejudice and racism on a daily basis. They don't insult me, but it's there, hidden. It is taken for granted that I must have been born somewhere else, that I am different. But I take pride in that difference, like Said. It becomes a game, a joke, a defense mechanism that lets him and me be above it, because the best way to fight it is to put a mirror in front of the people who practice it. I was invited to a radio show a few days ago, a cultural program where a foreign guest explains two food recipes from their land. I asked myself: "Which two recipes should I choose from Florentine cuisine?"
Image from the film and Haider Rashid's photo both courtesy of the filmmaker, used with permission]]>Aflamnah: Looking for Crowdfunding in the Arab Worldtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.32372362013-05-09T08:31:07-04:002013-05-13T15:27:45-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/"the Veronica Mars movie project" by Rob Thomas reached over 5.5 million dollars in 30 days on Kickstarter and some mainstream Hollywood names, Zach Braff for example, are also getting in on the action. But most of this momentous trend which is allowing filmmakers to make their films by tapping directly into their target audience's pockets, had not been reaching the Arab world. Until Aflamnah that is.
Started in July of 2012 by husband and wife team Vida Rizq and Lotfi Bencheikh, Aflamnah -- which simply translated means "our films" in Arabic -- is a platform much like Kickstarter and Indiegogo, but with a simple twist. It is aimed at filmmakers from the Arab world and based in the golden city of Dubai. While there have been projects from MENA on Kickstarter -- most recently The Square, about the revolution in Egypt directed by Jehane Noujaim, which premiered at Sundance -- the filmmakers have typically been based in the U.S. or the U.K. where you must have an account to collect the funds for your crowdfunding campaign.
So here steps into the arena Aflamnah now, a funding site in the United Arab Emirates, which most people don't equate with struggling artists and filmmakers in need of money to make their film. Yet time and time again, I have learned from Emirati talent and industry insiders that it's nearly impossible to raise funds in the UAE, and throughout the Arab world. Even affluent Arabs would rather fund Hollywood and Bollywood productions, rather than give money to a local filmmaker to make a film about this little known culture in need of a bridge to global understanding. Egyptian filmmaker Yousry Nasrallah put it best when he said that Emirati filmmakers "are as poor as any African filmmaker!"
Aflamnah offers a combination of the Kickstarter/Indiegogo models, in that there is a US$110 upload fee to post the project to their site, then they ask for a 6% commission on the money raised and don't penalize those who haven't reached their target goal with extra fees. It also lays out a structure of tiers and rewards for donating money to a project, just as any other crowdfunding site.
One of their most successful campaigns to date has been to raise marketing funds for Annemarie Jacir's latest When I Saw You, a personal favorite. And now one of their current projects, the short thriller "51", is getting great attention from the press because of the recent announcement that "too handsome for Saudi Arabia" Emirati model Omar Borkan Al Gala will make his acting debut in the film alongside Homeland's Navid Negahban. "51" also marks the first time on Aflamnah that a filmmaker has requested the substantial sum of US$170,000 to assist in making their film.
I sat down with Vida Rizq at this year's Gulf Film Festival, to find out five points that make Aflamnah the crowdfunding site of the MENA film industry.
What was the inspiration for Aflamnah?
Vida Rizq: I was actually working for DIFF and managing a film fund -- Enjaaz -- so I could see the number of applications that we would get and the number of rejections, because as you know there is a set number of projects that we would sponsor, and the mandate did say up to 15 projects a year. So I started to look around and it's actually the same everywhere, about 85% of applications get rejected, wherever you go. I then got involved in a film myself, because I'd been reading so many scripts and I read this script that had already won two awards, called The Kidnap, by Dima Hamdan. And I could see things from the other side, where this is a script that I believed, and it's all of course very subjective, but I believed was head and shoulders over and above many scripts I'd come across, and we could not get funding. And then we sort of thought lets consider crowdfunding for this. But the context if you go to international platforms is less favorable towards a very Arab story and so really the inspiration started there.
What makes Aflamnah unique?
VR: We felt that we needed a platform where people could go who are interested in Arab creatives, so the mindset of the people browsing is already in the right place and I think that makes us unique. Plus there's a lot of talent here that is not very comfortable in English, and we're the only platform that's available in Arabic. The site is the same in English and in Arabic.
Who makes up the Alfamnah team?
VR: My husband and I. But we have a team of donors who donate their time. They're professional people with 20-plus years experience, generally people I've worked with before who are fans of what we're doing. We've got a PR agency, a creative agency, all pro bono, even our lawyers are pro bono, and they approached us. We also have the stamp of approval of the Dubai International Film Festival, which is really important. Because it's a project that people sense has a heart.
What is the main obstacle of crowdfunding in this region?
VR: The people here want equity. Usually one of the questions is "what if one of your projects is a really big hit and makes lots of money, I'm going to feel really stupid that I put my $10 in and won't make any back." It's surprising. People want to invest here. People also sometimes misunderstand and think that Aflamnah is a film fund. Or that we're producers or we take equity, so we have to educate the market. I now have a slide that says what we're not because of the number of questions.
How do you ensure that money which is meant to go towards a campaign isn't used, for example, on a shoe shopping spree instead?
VR: It's a small industry, and the internet makes it really easy to find out information about people. If you can't find out info about someone, your alarm bell goes off. We haven't found that there's been that kind of issue. I'm sure there'll be a tiny percentage of people who have the intention of doing something and then not do it, but the feedback we've got from all 30 of the projects so far is that the responsibility and the weight of the responsibility on their shoulders increases tenfold because they have activated their personal network and they feel that people are aware and involved in their project, so the quality must be significantly better than if they hadn't crowdfunded. It's a pride in their work because the pride is shared now. That's a beautiful thing. People are now thinking not only of making it happen, but making it better.
Sitting across from him in the Dubai sun, during the recent Gulf Film Festival, I couldn't help but imagine that he'd always occupy the seat at the head of the table in any personal "who would be your dream dinner party guest" scenario. With music playing, the breeze of the air conditioning from the bar's open doors cooling down the sweltering desert air and the smell of scented tobacco wafting from the hookah lounge next door, it all seemed like a mirage, a culturally stimulating, wonderful mirage.
This was not my first time interviewing Nasrallah, but during our other talk -- at last year's Abu Dhabi Film Festival where his latest film After the Battle screened -- I remembered him as being more mysterious, somewhat cryptic. In Dubai instead I found an open, generous and (forgive my impertinence) bewitching man, perhaps because the artificial familiarity of Twitter had helped me to believe I understood him and his work more. Putting aside religious beliefs, I'll never forget Nasrallah's touching words on the day Pope Benedict XVI left the pontificate: "Pope lands in Castel Gandolfo. When a man declares himself unable to lead, and resigns, he becomes truly great and an example to follow."
But ultimately, it all boils down to Nasrallah being a complex man of many layers, much depth and inspired heights. I would hope to interview him a thousand times, and his words will keep cinema alive forever for me, similarly to the stories of The Arabian Nights, which he himself so masterfully reset into contemporary Cairo for the film Scheherazade, Tell me a Story. When asked to describe himself, Nasrallah said "Film maker, a good one." Could not have put it better myself.
After the Battle is so very personal for a woman to watch. How do you as a filmmaker, connect so beautifully to women's issues?
Yousry Nasrallah: You start out by a very simple feeling, it's not even something that you have to reflect upon too long, once you start dealing with women as equals, as human beings... I don't idealize women, in any way. I don't think there is anything idealistic about it, nor do I consider them special in any way. I feel they are part of humanity, a part that I happen to like and that intrigues me a lot.
But most men don't know how to do that.
YN: Maybe I'm not like most men (laughs). When you write, or when you make a film -- the first thing about filmmaking for me -- is never treat a character as being less intelligent than you are. It's a way of also respecting your audience. So as not to appear as someone flaunting myself to be adorable and respecting human rights, respecting women and whatever, but at least somebody who knows what cinema or drama is.
What appeals to you in a story?
YN: A story about people who are not identical to me -- this has always been a theme in my films. I go to places that I'm afraid of, people I don't know. Starting from the third film which was a documentary called On Boys, Girls and the Veil (Sobyan wa banat) and then The City (el Madina) and The Gate of the Sun (Bab el shams) about Palestinians, I've always been going places I'm not familiar with and trying not to conciliate, but simply understand. And I think maybe the relationship to women is the same. In After the Battle, there's something in the women, the opposition between a very romantic, idealistic woman and a very down-to-earth, very pragmatic, survivalist woman, with no cynicism at all, I don't like cynicism. Shrewd, slightly perverse, they are all things that I find very attractive in the character of Fatma, and the confrontation between one very unpractical and one very practical reality sounded like good drama to me.
Do you think cinema could change the world?
YN: No, because it's pretentious. If you set out making a film thinking that you're going to change the world then you're in big trouble, because it won't change.
Do you think that Egyptian, Tunisian and now Syrian filmmakers are going to get stuck in making films about the revolutions?
YN: If you look at cinema anywhere in the world, it has always dealt with the present. Even if you make a historical film about Elizabeth I it always has resonance in the present and the present being what it is. Rather than be stuck in depicting a reality that does not exist I think what the revolutions have done is allowed filmmakers and artists to really be part of the 21st century. I don't think anybody will buy slogans, I think that people need cinema to be what it is supposed to be, telling them good fairy tales that will allow them to sleep.
You've tweeted about the talented filmmakers you've mentored here during the Gulf Film Market, treated them as equals, that's not something you get often from master filmmakers.
YN: Twenty five years ago I made my first film and I was treated with respect, I wasn't a battered child. Or maybe I was... Talent is something you have to respect, even if ultimately you end up detesting the person because you are jealous of them. But at the end of the day -- and I swear I'm not patronizing at all -- if you see talent, you respect talent. When I write a script I give it to my friends to read and discuss, they're my mentors. You don't make a film alone, even when you do.
The biggest challenge for filmmakers from the Gulf?
YN: We're under the impression that Gulf people are pampered, they're rich and that filmmakers in the Gulf, the reason they don't make films is probably because they are too spoiled to make films. And then you discover the bitter reality that they're not even funded here. People prefer giving money to American and international productions rather than help young filmmakers here. You have an incredible opportunity in the Emirates, it's a culture we don't know anything about, it's a language we have hardly heard at all, it's a landscape which we are not at all familiar with, it's like reinventing cinema. It can only be a win/win situation if you start encouraging a thing like this.
There is this misunderstanding that if you come from the Emirates you must be rolling in dough.
YN: Exactly, whereas they're as poor as any African filmmaker!
What's going on with Egyptian cinema?
YN: If we're talking in terms of industry, it's in big trouble, but creatively, there are films being made, and some wonderful ones. I don't know if you've seen Hala Lofty's film, she's a young woman filmmaker who made a film called Coming Forth By Day, Ahmad Abdalla who made Microphone just finished a new film called Rags and Tatters, he's taken ages to finish it but I hear great things... Filmmakers make their films regardless of the industry, but the industry itself is in bad shape.
What's next for Mr. Nasrallah?
YN: Either I stay in Cairo and cook, or stay in France, just to keep away for a while from the political pressure. You know, you make great films when you talk about relationships of the individual with the universe, with God, with whatever, who am I, where I'm going -- this is what cinema is about. And somehow you are forced to stick to politics and political issues constantly. Actually, in a repressive society you don't exist as a person, you're a spokesperson.
I don't see a lot of cooking in your future...
YN: Are you a fortune teller? (laughs) I love to cook, you know you cook and you get the same kind of response you get for a movie! It's good, it's delicious, it's wonderful, or it's lousy. Come to Cairo, I'll cook you lunch.
Photo of Yousry Nasrallah and still from After the Battle all courtesy of the Abu Dhabi Film Festival, used with permission]]>The Best Things in Life Are Free: Little Zizou on Hulutag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.31736312013-04-29T17:21:14-04:002013-04-29T17:21:22-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/ Sooni Taraporevala's film Little Zizou -- which can be watched for free these days on Hulu -- always makes me yearn for my first true love: Bombay. Because Little Zizou represents the perfect template of the city known to outsiders as Mumbai but beloved by insiders forever as Bombay, the craziest, most chaotically beautiful place on earth, the one single spot that invades my senses and dreams even as I write this, lands away and miles apart.
While it is ideal for cinema to transport its audience to other worlds, it's not often that a film manages to do it quite as well as Little Zizou.
The story is wonderfully simple: Xerxes (played by Jahan Bativala), or "Little Zizou," is a young boy who prays to his late mother to send his soccer idol Zinedine Zidane on a visit to Bombay. His elder brother Art (Imaad Shah, who is also featured in Mira Nair's The Reluctant Fundamentalist) is a prolific cartoonist, a romantic with a fantastic imagination and a group of friends determined to achieve the nearly-impossible, while the boys' father Khodaiji (played by Sohrab Ardeshir) is a religious leader of sorts, with prophetic aspirations and a flair for the dramatic. Because of Khodaiji's fanatical convictions, the boys spend most of their time at the home of their father's archrival, Boman Presswala (a treat for lovers of Indian cinema as he's played by Boman Irani, a beloved star), a principled newspaper man with a loving, kind wife Roxanne (played by Zenobia Shroff) and two girls. While Art pines for the elder one, the younger Liana (Iyanah Bativala) resents the presence of Xerxes, who is tended to with care and attention by her mom. It is a modern fairy tale, with a story as old as love itself.
Little Zizou does tell a story that is unmistakably woven into the tightly knit Parsi community to which Taraporevala herself belongs, but this film is also about any child with a deep sense of longing for his mother, any teenager trying to grow up in a world where dreams are difficult to hold on to, any woman who has enough love in her heart to spread to more than her biological children and any man who believes that the freedom of speaking the truth is worth fighting for, at any cost. Far from ever preaching or teaching, Taraporevala manages to infuse the film with humor and charming inside jokes, like the newspaper headline at the beginning of the film declaring "The Namesake wins Oscar for Best Film!"
Yes, because while Little Zizou is Sooni Taraporevala's directorial debut, she is best known as the screenwriter of such Mira Nair hits as Salaam Bombay, Mississippi Masala as well as adapting Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake for the big screen.
Ever since sitting in the audience for the unforgettable film's premiere in 2008, I've come to spend quite a bit of time with Taraporevala and her wonderful family. Turns out the Taraporevalas and Bativalas (both Jahan and Iyanah, who play the central characters in the film, are the filmmaker's children in real life) are even more fantastically brilliant than the characters of Little Zizou, but watching the film comes in a close second.
Here's a bit of insight from Taraporevala about the Parsis, her cinematic inspiration and becoming a filmmaker "luck by chance".
You have lived in such diverse cities as L.A., Bombay and NYC...
And Newark, NJ!
What do you like most and least about each city and which one is your favorite
I like Bombay the best because that's home for me and it's the city I grew up in. It's the city I am most used to. I love the crowds, the smells, the noises of Bombay and every other city I have lived in, I always compare it to Bombay. So New York compares the most favorably because it's most like Bombay -- you know the smell of urine, the crowds, the energy and it's a culturally diverse city. That complete sense of life being in your face all the time. You can't escape it, it's right there. I would say Bombay comes first, New York comes second and L.A. comes last! In L.A., I love the weather... I only like New York in the spring and summer, I can't stand it in the winter, I find it utterly depressing. In L.A. the weather is gorgeous but when I was living there it just felt like such a one-industry town. It felt so removed from real life, very empty, almost numbing in a way.
Who are the Parsis?
Parsis are followers of the world's first monotheistic prophet Zarathustra who was born more than 3000 years ago in Iran. With the Arab invasion of Iran, a group of Zoroastrians fled to save their religion. They sailed away and landed in India 900 years ago. These strangers were called "Parsis" (from 'Pars' -- Persia). Today there are only 70,000 Parsis left in India, 250,000 Zoroastrians around the world.
Are some of the characters in the film based on real persons in your life?
Yes, some are... [Laughs] Lets leave it at that.
What inspired you to become a screenwriter, and then what pushed you to go even further and tackle directing?
As they call it in India "luck by chance," truly! My life has been totally unplanned and I never thought I'd be a screenwriter. It just so happened that I met Mira [Nair] in college and we really hit it off, bonded, became really good friends and had similar interests. We knew we wanted to work together at some point, so we worked on Salaam Bombay and that was such a hit. Then, I found myself with a career as a screenwriter. I was a photographer before that. Again, photography also wasn't planned, since before that I was studying cinema studies, which is theory and criticism.
The film appeals to the audience on such an emotional level. Even to people who are not from the Parsi community, who may have never been to Bombay. Because ultimately we feel that it's real, it's not a fantastical story that could never happen. The characters feel like people we may know or come to know, at some point in our lives. Is that why you directed the film yourself?
I decided that I wanted to direct it myself, because it was my baby. I had never written a script for myself before. I didn't want to give it to anyone else and I thought I would be the best person to direct it because I knew exactly what I wanted. Also, I didn't think that anyone else would be mad enough to direct a script like this without cutting some part out or saying "this doesn't work." Because it's not a conventional story, not a conventional structure and definitely not a conventional film.
Who has been your inspiration as a director?
Woody Allen. He is a writer as well and I feel close to his personality -- he's more of a quiet type on set, not a yeller and a screamer. I read something he once said which was that the way he directs is to choose the best person for the role and then let them do what they are really good at, which was my philosophy. If you have someone who is a really good actor being a director, that person can show the actors how it should be done, but I couldn't do that so I did what would work best for me. Everyone on the set of Little Zizou was never far out of their comfort zone.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
I have no idea! That's what I like about my life, I don't even know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow. I like it this way. Mira's dad used to call me "Rudderless Ship." I have since kind of found a rudder, but a part of me is still that ship.
If you're reading this expecting to hear praises about the jewelry in Abu Dhabi, the wonder that is Burj Khalifa in Dubai, or the beauty of Arabian horses, you'll be disappointed. I'm all about cinema from, in and about this region and my personal gems were collected during the Gulf Film Festival, which was held in Dubai's Festival City from April 10th to the 17th. Read on for a list that is definitely not in order of importance but proved for me cinematically life-changing.
Wadjda
U.S. audiences will get the chance to watch this masterpiece in the fall, when Sony Pictures Classics will finally release Wadjda -- not a moment too soon. But the full meaning of Haifaa al-Mansour's touching, worldly film about so much more than a girl yearning for a green bicycle was best summed up by Gulf Film Festival Chairman Abdulhamid Juma when he confessed, "to me personally Wadjda is a dream." He went on to explain the undeniable importance of the film by saying, "what I love about Wadjda is it really touches very sensitive issues that a lot of people would not even wish to talk about -- not only one, many, many issues -- without confrontation." I found myself as touched by it, if not more the second time around and catching up with the film's generous, delightful filmmaker at the opening night screening kicked off the festival just right.
Bani Adam
While I remember Wadjda for all the right reasons, I perhaps will always hold a special place in my heart for Bani Adam, for some wrong ones. It's destined to be one of those films audiences watch again and again, creating its own cult following in the process, similar to what the American film The Room has done in the decade since it was released. The third feature by Emirati filmmaker Majid Abdul Razak, Bani Adam turned out to be the great conversation starter at GFF, undeniably imprinted in everyone's mind. And yes, it is so unusual that nearly everyone I asked watched it both times it screened during the festival.
Masoud Amralla Al Ali
Dubai International Film Festival and GFF Artistic Director Masoud Amralla Al Ali is a wonderfully refreshing combination of poet, mentor and inspiration. While his impressive figure may at first seem intimidating, his warmth and naturally encouraging ways put me at ease, the very moment our conversation started. His insights into some of the films screened in the festival allowed me to view them in a different light and at times, that light of reason changed my mind. Also, I'll never forget his hospitality at the closing night ceremony, as he greeted guests on the red carpet, and so welcomingly shook my hand, ensuring a magnificent end to a fantastic festival.
Abdulhamid Juma
While on the subject of hospitality, of course, the other undeniably impressive figure of the Gulf Film Festival is DIFF Chairman Abdulhamid Juma. I walked away from his interview inspired and energized perhaps because I saw within him everything that I find so right about this part of the world. Excited about a film that owes so much to DIFF and his vision, Juma talked more about Wadjda by disclosing that "ten people last night came from Saudi, to finalize that they are going to vote for it to go to the Oscars, as the Saudi Arabian entry." As they say here, Insh'Allah.
It's About To Rain
I always gravitate towards stories of displacement, emotional and physical. I am not a refugee, my parents left Italy of their own free will but I've always felt like I fit in everywhere yet belong nowhere. Haider Rashid's film hit close to home, quite literally, as the story takes place in Florence, my hometown, and deals with an Algerian Italian family struggling to come to terms with an Italy that has come to reject them. It's by a filmmaker that Artistic Director Amralla Al Ali confessed is "like family" within the festival and although I didn't connect as strongly as I thought I would to its main character Said, It's About To Rain is destined to become a success story, and a great start to the right conversations about just who "The Other" is.
The Gulf Film Market
The great thing about a more personal film festival geared towards filmmakers is that the conversations become more intimate and all the defenses come down. Film Market Manager Samr Al Marzooqi generously walked me through the Gulf Film Market, which included panels, masterclasses and two brilliant screenwriting workshops for five lucky filmmakers. It's not everyday that a young filmmaker can learn from Egyptian master Yousry Nasrallah and the writer of Emirati success story Sea Shadow Mohammed Hasan Ahmed, and both teachers and students came away inspired and energized. The panels on "How To Festival" and "Marketing" short films were also a great resource for filmmakers, who could make dream connections with the likes of Fortissimo Films' Chris Paton and OSN SVP of Programming Khulud Abu Homos. Ultimately, Al Marzooqi's passion for what he does makes him a force to be reckoned with in the Gulf film industry.
Grand Marriage
OK, so if you live in the U.S. you probably didn't even hear about the Iran earthquake. But if you sat in a movie theater in Dubai, watching a beautiful Saudi documentary about a marriage ceremony in the Comoros islands as I did, you would have been so involved in the film to hardly notice the earth shaking under your seat. For a good 30 seconds I thought my seat mate was moving her foot, maybe to the chanting in the film... We were all so taken by what we were watching, and a little surprised about the rare occurrence, that not a single audience member even talked about it after the screening. It wasn't until I checked in on Twitter hours later that I even knew buildings had been evacuated and spirits shaken as the powerful earthquake was felt throughout the Gulf region. Yes, Grand Marriage was that good.
Aflamnah
With all this talk about crowdfunding and just how much money the Veronica Mars project raised on Kickstarter, you would think there was still no way for a filmmaker from the Arab world to get his or her film funded. But there is. Just eight months old and already responsible for raising post production marketing funds for one of my favorite films, Annemarie Jacir's When I Saw You, Aflamnah is slowly but surely making a name for itself as the "little cinematic funding site that could", to paraphrase one of my favorite childhood stories. One of their current campaigns is 51, a short thriller based on numbers and starring Homeland's Navid Negahban, to be shot entirely in the UAE. The project is seeking the highest amount asked so far on the Dubai-based site: $170,000 for production costs. I met up with Aflamnah founders Vida Rizq and Lotfi Bencheikh and was impressed by their passion for cinema as well as their impressive backgrounds in the film industry.
Yousry Nasrallah
It was great to admire the selfless generosity of a filmmaking great with his five students during the Gulf Film Market mentoring sessions. In one of his ever-inspiring tweets -- if you are not following him on Twitter you are missing out - Nasrallah wrote "Have spent the last few days with five talented, enthusiastic and inspiring young filmmakers in Dubai. Thank God, for cinema." Yes, thank God for cinema indeed, and great filmmakers like Nasrallah who clearly possesses the means to help bridge this chaotically separated world of ours! When I had the chance to finally have a conversation with Nasrallah, we agreed to sit out in the Dubai midday sun, which added a mirage-like quality to our talk and made it utterly unforgettable.
The Man Inside
Karim Goury's film about the search for his own father, in the room where he spent his last years, appealed to me on instinct alone, then conquered my heart once I finally got to watch it. From the film's imaginative way to tell the story of a man no more, to The Man Inside's personable French/Egyptian filmmaker, this turned out to be a favorite at this year's GFF. Perhaps as a daughter of divorce, I felt a deep connection to the idea that no matter how strong and independent we grow up to be, we were once pawns in our parents' game, and we end up forever changed by it. During one goose bump moment in the film, Goury wonders if he could remain in his hotel room, and never go home again, just as his father did during his lifetime -- thus escaping his own responsibilities. I'll admit that the great luxury of the Intercontinental in Festival City, combined with the respectful, proud ways of the Emiratis and the cultural grandness of the Gulf Film Festival made me also wonder if I could stay in Dubai forever...
All images courtesy of the Gulf Film Festival, used with permission]]>Wisdom From the Chairman: What I Learned From Abdulhamid Juma in Dubaitag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.30825482013-04-15T06:40:07-04:002013-04-15T13:18:47-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/ Sitting in conversation with Abdulhamid Juma, the Chairman of both the Dubai International Film Festival and the Gulf Film Festival, is a film-lover's dream come true. It's unique to find a perfect businessman who is also full of inspirational insight and possesses an infectious passion for cinema. Juma exudes an undeniable belief in the motto that has driven DIFF since its inception in 2004: "Bridging Cultures, Meeting Minds."
But perhaps what surprised me most about our meeting during this year's GFF is Juma's availability, and his generosity of time. He's ever present, accessible for filmmakers, festival insiders and press alike, filled with gems of wisdom to enlighten and inform. And his words, his enthusiasm always betray a deep connection to his life's mission, to build cinema in the Gulf, one film, one story, one filmmaker at a time.
Though perhaps abridging his vision to fit within a couple of paragraphs may prove an impossible task, I'll attempt it anyway.
From the ashes of unbearable tragedy, a great cinematic Phoenix can arise.
Juma explains that "the idea had been going around for a film festival in Dubai since the nineties," yet it wasn't until the early 2000s that the dialogue was initiated in a bigger way. Two reasons, in Juma's words, "one was the establishment of Dubai Media City in 2001, and so the festival found a home" and the second reason, much more momentous, turned out to be the events of "9/11, because then a lot of people wanted to know more about this part of the world, about Islam, about Arabs, like who are those people?" When I question how such tragedy could turn into a positive, Juma is quick to add "it's usually the case though, as they say positive things come from negative things" and continues "there was really a kind of magnet, we wanted to tell our stories by ourselves, while the West wanted to know more about us." Because up until then, Juma says, "we had not done our homework, trying to give them [the West] something positive to know us by."
How to live up to high expectations, like being the "Cannes of Arabia."
When the festival started in 2004, there were seventy-six films in the line-up, one world premiere, thirteen thousand people in attendance. The opening night film was chosen by Juma himself, Le Grand Voyage by Ismaël Ferroukhi, about which he says "it was in French and Moroccan, a beautiful film about a father and a son, a road movie we picked up from Toronto." At the latest edition of DIFF, this past December, the line-up included nearly one hundred sixty films, forty-seven world premieres and fifty-one thousand people in attendance. "We've come a long way" Juma gushes, yet continues, "after we announced the film festival, we were sandwiched between two things, one was Dubai always wanting to be the biggest, the best, and so they wanted us to become Cannes, put Dubai on the map cinematically." Of course, starting from scratch, in a country without a culture of filmmaking, those could have proven to be disastrous expectations, but Juma explains further, "it was a challenge to create a first class event, and this idea born in a place like Dubai was really interesting, because they wanted a means to bridge cultures here, but Dubai is not good in religion, is not good in politics, so we built a bridge with films." One of the great benefits of building a bridge is that it's always a two way exchange, and Juma discloses the festival helps because "it is not only us sending films for others to watch but we also need to watch films we usually do not have the chance to see anyway."
When one festival grows to focus on international projects, you build a second festival to nurture local talent.
After a couple of years of DIFF, Juma and his team noticed an increasing number of entries from UAE filmmakers, particularly in the Shorts section. He expands on the idea "we didn't have enough good platforms for that because we really had to choose, some of them were just films from kids who were starting out and then you cannot really choose them for the program, but you can't refuse them, it was very hard for us." So the idea was born of doing something within DIFF, initially a program called "Films from the Gulf" and "Emirati Films," but that also turned out to be "not enough" in Juma's words. The word "nurture" comes up a lot in conversation with Juma, and again he uses it to explain how GFF was officially born: "We thought if this festival [DIFF] is really going to go on for a long time in Dubai, we need to nurture our own people and we cannot do it in here, so lets focus. The idea came from Masoud [Amralla Al Ali, the artistic director of both DIFF and GFF] himself to start the Emirati Film Festival, because of his involvement in 2001 in something called the "UAE Film Competition" in Abu Dhabi. Out of that, Juma continues, "the idea of GFF came in 2008, so now you have a film festival which is smaller, dedicated to the people of the Gulf and you take the best of that, put it on a platform for a different audience internationally, for the bigger one [DIFF] and its synergy and everything is working."
You cannot be creative and you cannot embrace culture unless you open your door to "the Other."
When asked about the great international presence at this year's GFF, Juma enlightens "we strongly believe you cannot be creative and you cannot embrace culture unless you open your door to "the Other". The other is not only somebody who doesn't look like you, but somebody who is really far away from you." He continues, "if we want our filmmakers to learn, they have to see a lot of films, sometimes they don't have the chance or the money to travel to other film festivals, and then nobody brings films here unless they are really commercial big successes. Big Bollywood or big Hollywood. And you have to learn cinema from the world." Through DIFF, Juma has a very revolutionary personal mission, which he explains, "I invite directors of small film festivals, like from somewhere in Alabama... They are really surprised when we invite them, they come here, first of all Dubai makes you go wow, this is really something, it's overwhelming! They go to a film, it may be a Palestinian or a Saudi film for God's sake, wow! So they take that film, take it to their audience of even 700 people, in a small town in Alabama. If I do this once every year, then I'm doing my job! That's what I mean by bridging cultures."
Photo of Abdulhamid Juma courtesy of DIFF]]>HiBROW: Fulfilling Every Art Needtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.30663332013-04-12T01:38:58-04:002013-04-12T17:10:10-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/
Launched in 2012, HiBROW is a free, curatorial, digital arts platform based in London and currently visited by cultural online explorers from over 200 countries. UK filmmaker Don Boyd is HiBROW's creator and with his endeavor he's basically changing the game. If HiBROW succeeds in its mission -- to bring the wisdom of a wide range of established arts professional to international audiences far and wide -- then film festivals, arts exhibits, concerts and cultural gatherings become accessible to all, with only one prerequisite: Access to a computer.
So what distinguishes HiBROW from say, a museum's page on YouTube, or streaming a film on Hulu and the likes? Right off the bat, two things jump at me. One, its content is all original, created exclusively for HiBROW by a team of curators which include journalists, artists, creative directors and musicians. Two, everything on HiBROW is HD, high definition to the max. High quality content in every possible way is what one walks away from the site remembering. And thereafter craving.
A personal favorite on HiBROW is a focus series on the FESPACO festival, a cinematic and television event held in Burkina Faso every two years. Filmed in 2011 by the HiBROW team, the segments are introduced and curated by their resident film expert Dave Calhoun, and include interviews with renowned filmmakers Souleymane Cissé, Jihar El-Tahri and Jean-Pierre Bekolo. Think of the event as the African Cannes. To help us further understand the undeniable importance of cinema from the African continent, HiBROW has in the works a feature length celebration of African cinema, which will shortly be featured on the site.
Forging crucial technological collaborations with the likes of Ooyala, the leading US online supplier of personalized video experiences in the world, to provide HiBROW's unique video player, as well as Code Circus for their web design, HiBROW is introducing never before seen content. From Peter Capaldi to John le Carré, from dance company Protein to art gallery The TATE St Ives' artistic director Martin Clark, all the way to Mike Figgis in conversation with Richard Strange, it's a whole new world of culture for the taking.
In the slideshow below I've selected stills from a few favorites, with corresponding links. But also stay tuned for favorite Indian author Amit Chaudhuri's upcoming cinematic and musical essay "A Moment of Mishearing" which promises to both enchant and inspire.
All images courtesy of HiBROW, used with permission]]>They Are the World: The 6th Gulf Film Festival in Dubai (PHOTOS)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.30354512013-04-10T16:51:44-04:002013-04-10T16:51:49-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/
A couple of years ago, on a springtime visit to the Emirates, I read an article in a local newspaper about Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami's master classes in occasion of the Gulf Film Festival. The legendary filmmaker armed his students with the theme of "loneliness" and set them free in the golden city of light: Dubai. Hailing from as far and wide as Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Egypt, Sudan, Iraq, Iran, Germany and Denmark -- as well as home grown talents from all over the UAE -- the students spent 10 days under the guidance of the master. Then, in 2012, the films were presented at the Gulf Film Festival as part of a program titled "Cherries of Kiarostami".
Needless to say, ever since that day in 2011 when I read about this free-to-the-public festival with a magical ability to bring together masters and students in a most positive way, I have been eagerly awaiting a chance to attend. In a couple of days, my dream will finally become a reality. Insh'Allah.
But I have to say that what I made up for in enthusiasm for GFF (as insiders call the weeklong festival which is being held this year from April 11th to the 17th) I more than lacked in understanding. Here I was thinking this was a regional affair, mostly made up of shorts and student films from countries within the Arabian peninsula, with attendance by Emiratis and UAE expats living in Dubai, when I am faced with the fact that this year GFF is a worldly event, chock-full of films (more than I can ever manage to watch or write about) from all over the world. To be precise, 169 films from 43 countries, of which 78 are world premieres. All held under the patronage of His Highness Sheikh Majid Bin Mohammed Bin Rashid Al Maktoum, Chairman of the Dubai Culture and Arts Authority.
This year, for the first time, the festival will also feature a concurrent Gulf Film Market, which is bound to draw some of the most prominent filmmakers from the region, to mentor and network with emerging GCC film professionals. Two such personalities, on hand to provide screenwriting training at GFF 2013, will be Egyptian director Yousry Nasrallah, whose recent After the Battle still lives within my heart, and the screenwriter of an Emirati film that has been wildly successful around the world, Sea Shadow's Mohammed Hassan Ahmad.
The festival kicks off with a beloved DIFF favorite, Haifaa Al Mansour's Wadjda and sees the return of another personal best loved film of all times, Bekas, also an audience favorite at the Dubai International Film Festival. There will also be a great series of "Made in Qatar" films presented by the Doha Film Institute, as well as award competitions that include "Gulf Feature" and "Gulf Short," "International Feature" and "International Short" and "Gulf Student Short." Lots to look forward to, that's for sure!
Of course, both festivals, DIFF and GFF are a great extension of one another and the nurturing encouragement of the wonderful individuals who make up the core of these events remains what filmmakers remember, years after their films are first screened in the festivals. Among them, Abdulhamid Juma, DIFF and GFF Chairman & CEO, Masoud Amralla Al Ali, Artistic Director of GFF and DIFF and Shivani Pandya, Managing Director of both festivals.
Although it proved nearly impossible to create a slideshow that did justice to all the great talents, films and stories in the festival this year, I tried to give it my best. The result is below, with just a small taste of what GFF 2013 will be offering, this coming week, for free, around their Dubai Festival City venues.
Images and synopses courtesy of Gulf Film Festival, used with permission]]>Four Reasons All Filmmakers Should Listen To Pascal Diot of Dubai Filmmarttag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.30200312013-04-05T15:07:49-04:002013-04-05T15:07:57-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/ In person, Pascal Diot is as kind as he is insightful. A great mix of knowledge and class, Diot's soft French accent certainly helps in getting his point across with that extra bit of sophistication. But don't let his casual elegance fool you, for his understanding of world cinema, and all the important tricks of the trade needed to turn a film from someone's love child to a great international success, is tremendous. Diot has had more than 26 years of experience in film sales, worked for entertainment organizations such as Pathe, Canal+, UGC and TF1, runs his own production company and currently juggles quite a few co-producing duties on what I would dare call world-unifying film projects.
Three years ago, Diot began lending his expertise to the Dubai Filmmart, which runs concurrently with the Dubai International Film Festival and is the biggest film market in the region. Last year he became Manager of the Filmmart and is also the head of Venice Film Market, which will be part of this year's Venice International Film Festival. His knowledge is a stupendous resource to tap into for any filmmaker but also for a journo with a passion for world cinema. Following are four reasons why.
A great film market is all about cinematic cross-pollination.
Diot is quick to point out that DIFF's tagline is "From Script To Screen" which basically means that they have all kinds of development programs, "from scriptwriting to production, and the Filmmart is the final one, dealing with sales" as Diot explains. One beautiful case study to grow out of this nurturing program has been Wadjda, with filmmaker Haifaa al-Mansour starting out at Torino Film Lab, another DIFF partner, and ending up at the festival in 2012, with distribution deals all over the world. Diot continues "we have two goals, one to help the Arab world but also Asia and Africa to sell, to co-produce, to be exposed in the remaining parts of the world, but the second is also to bring the rest of the world to the Arab world and to emphasize and develop co-productions."
Filmmakers can't also be their own lawyers, publicists, sales agents and producers.
Unfortunately, filmmaking can't be created in a perfect artistic bubble. Which is why Dubai Filmmart has consultants available for their guests, six specifically in 2012, to help with the legal, co-production, sales and marketing aspects of cinema. These are invaluable professional resources and to have this kind of knowledge available all in one place, while more than five hundred worldwide distributors attend the market looking for projects, can make all the difference for an independent film. Ultimately, as Diot admits "cinema is an industry, so it's always a question of profitability and money" when it comes to film deals, but for those projects which may not be right for big releases in the multiplex, the key to success may lie within newer platforms like VOD and the internet.
Creating cinematic bridges helps everyone.
While audiences undoubtedly win at a film festival, with that endless flow of movies, talks, events and celebrities to fill their time, filmmakers at the market benefit from all the great alliances that Diot and the Filmmart have formed. Diot lists a few, "there is the Venice Film Market, then a partnership with the Annecy International Animation Film Festival, one with MIP TV Cannes, the biggest TV market in the world, Toronto, the Producer's Network in Cannes, we also give a prize at la Francophonie, then we have the Gulf Film Festival which focuses on short films and student work, and a number of other partnerships." In 2011 Diot admits "twenty films were sold during the festival" and already this year quite a few titles, including audience favorite Bekas, as well as Jordanian rom-com When Monaliza Smiled and the Lebanese drama Blind Intersections have found distribution.
The landscape of cinema distribution is changing. Are you?
It used to be that if a film went "straight to video" it was considered a failure, like the ugly duckling of the cinema world. These days, because audiences are changing, the way films are watched is also changing. While a trip to the multiplex is still considered a popular family outing in some parts of the world, the reality of DVDs, VOD, SVOD and YouTube is here to stay. Diot also addresses the change in how films are distributed by mentioning the Filmmart's "partnership with Festivalscope, an online platform where all the professional exhibitors and film programmers can have access to a number of the films shown here." He continues, "I hope we'll still have some independent exhibitors who will create events and keep showing those kinds of films on the big screen, but I would say the future of cinematography is more on the internet and directly at home."
Photo of Pascal Diot courtesy of the Dubai International Film Festival, used with permission]]>From Argo to Beth Murphy's The List: Will We Ever Learn?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.30002702013-04-03T16:00:48-04:002013-04-03T16:00:59-04:00E. Nina Rothehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/
Argo deserved the Best Picture Oscar, but perhaps not for all the obvious reasons. I personally found in Ben Affleck's film another reminder that when we don't pay close attention to our history - particularly the kind that could destroy lives - we tend to repeat the same terrible mistakes, over and over again.
In one of the final scenes of Argo, Fahad, the housekeeper at the Canadian Embassy, is seen crossing the border into Iraq, a woman now considered a traitor and therefore destined for death in her own country. It's 1980 Iran and for the protection of all the Americans involved, the "Canadian Caper" mission will not be disclosed for another two decades. A loyal Iranian so becomes an acceptable casualty of war, one left behind.
Fast forward to modern-day Iraq. We've just passed the tenth anniversary of the start of the Iraq War. Another courageous man has been trying for nearly a decade to save lives, this time not those of American hostages, but of the Iraqis who helped us, who translated, accommodated, assisted and accompanied our troops and personnel in their country. The man's name is Kirk Johnson, and he's fighting almost singlehandedly to help these heroic Iraqis walk away from our war with their lives. Literally. Because thirty years have passed but little has changed. They've also been left behind.
Johnson has written a book about what has become his life's work. To Be a Friend Is Fatal: A Story from the Aftermath of America at War will be available October 15th from Scribner. But I first learned about this charismatic man with eyes that betray the injustices he's been fighting at last year's Tribeca Film Festival. There I met, and interviewed filmmaker Beth Murphy, whose documentary The List world-premiered at TFF. The film features Johnson, as well as some of the Iraqi men and women he's managed to help. And those he couldn't.
Murphy has become someone I turn to whenever I want a reality check. She's frank, strong - a filmmaker with a talent for igniting in her audience a passion for her subjects, be they 9/11 widows who find healing in Afghanistan (Beyond Belief), kite-obsessed engineers working in Egypt (Flying Pyramids, Soaring Stones), or one man with a need for justice. It was a pleasure to meet her again, nearly six months after TFF, this time presenting her film at the Abu Dhabi Film Festival. I wanted to dive right into how far things had come with the Iraqi refugees on Johnson's "The List Project" after the film premiered in the U.S., but Murphy's reality proved more heartbreaking than her doc.
How did the questions differ here, in the Gulf, from those of American audiences?
Beth Murphy: People here wanted to dive right into the issues. At other Q & A sessions, audiences want to know how I got into the story, how I first met Kirk, and by the time we're done with the softball questions, there's little time left to tackle some really meaty issues around the film and the war itself.
An example of a question in Abu Dhabi?
BM: One woman, herself a refugee but not Iraqi, said she had an interesting evolution during the film. At first, she hated U.S. Rep. [Dana] Rohrabacher for saying these Iraqis should stay in Iraq, and help build the democracy they deeply believe in. Later, she actually appreciated his message and agreed with him that U.S.-affiliated Iraqis should not leave. She asked me "Do you think these people really wanted to leave?" Of course they wish their homeland was a place where they could stay, but they're choosing, in many cases, a new life over death...
At Tribeca, the Q & A I attended focused on "How can we help?" and "Are we really doing that to those who helped us?"
BM: Exactly, is this who we are?
So what is unique about the Iraqis, why has the U.S. left them in a country where they are considered traitors, by affiliation?
BM: Every year tens of thousands of refugees are resettled, not just in the U.S. but in countries all over the world. In 2011 there were 92,000 applications filed by UNHCR with resettlement countries - the bulk of those to the United States. What is unique is to have a population moving here because of a crisis created by America. Most people resettling in America - from Burma, Somalia, Bhutan - do not share that story. In the film, we are dealing with the human consequences of this war, and how we respond to those consequences speaks to who we are as Americans and who we are as a nation. The leadership of our President is needed. In the past, anytime the U.S. has moved large numbers of refugees quickly, and we've done it, it's been done with the intervention of the President. Of course, there is fear, because no one wants to have their name attached to the next 9/11. But the hardest pill to swallow is that in 2007 the "Refugee Crisis in Iraq Act" was passed, and 25,000 slots were opened, 5,000 a year for five years, so our allies could get in. The program is about to expire, and fewer than one quarter of those visas - exactly 22-percent - have been issued.
You and I, two American citizens who can both sit here and freely criticize and debate our government. It brings me to one last question, do you think it's a great privilege to be a U.S. citizen?
BM: I've always believed it's a privilege, but now I'm forced to ask - to what end? If there is no change as a result of the criticism, so what, I had the privilege of being a voice in the wilderness. And that really bothers me. When I started making this film it took almost a year for the Iraqis who applied to get their first interview for a visa, which was outrageously long. It's now two years. Two years. A lot of the stories are still unresolved. We used to find that cases profiled in the media were miraculously fast-tracked, those people got here, it happened. And if there was congressional intervention, those cases moved. Neither of those things is true anymore. When something is written about a particular case, nothing happens. And there are recent cases of attempted congressional intervention and nothing's happened.
So Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Lawrence, Naomi Watts and the likes have their pick of Chanel, the company is hosting a special couture lounge inside the Majestic, Swarovski jewels, handbags and Jimmy Choo shoes, all framed by the beautifying treatments at Dior. But the most coveted spot in the gift lounge firmament belongs to Nathalie Dubois who runs the Cannes 2013 DPA Lounge in a suite at the Carlton Hotel, where all celebrities -- and some very, very lucky writers -- get to frolic surrounded by refreshments, great beauty treatments, fun clothing and wonderful jewelry.
AAK: DFI's mission is to develop a culture of film appreciation, to develop filmmakers from the Middle East and the region. When you look at that, it seems like a one-statement goal but for us, for me personally it is a very important one. Our region is incredibly rich in stories and we come from a storytelling culture, I think it's very important that we're able to tell these stories in a way that's compelling and that has reach. And film, in today's world, is one of the most powerful mediums.
FAR: From the past experiences we learned many things, like for example that our community needs a lot of focus. We are building an industry and if you are doing it, you need to build an audience with it, build the filmmakers and we want to start with the very young and get them interested. We saw from the past four years that there's a huge appetite for it. People will be very excited that we're focusing on them and building a cinema culture within this community. Everyone will have something in the family festival.
ES: There are many levels where we could take this conversation but if we talk about what I'm doing in Doha, I can at least say this, I come with that package because of the sort of films that I make. Because of the sort of upbringing I have. I was not educated in one place, it was a nomadic culture experience. I'm fed on American and European and far worldly cinema and books, in NY at its best time, in the 80s and 90s.
Karim Goury: Maybe because the film I made before [Made in Egypt] was a documentary done in the classical way, with interviews, with a journey, movement, and as I felt I still had something to say about this story and go further, I didn't want to make the same film. I thought that with the audiotape, the voice of my father and his letters, I wanted to let my father's voice bring the life in the movie, while I'm just standing still in this room. My point was to be in this space, in his place, trying to understand, trying to see the things that he saw, hearing the things that he heard, even with thirty years of a gap. 
HR: I feel close to Said's determination, to his will to fight against what he believes is wrong, in his belief in doing things in a certain "right" way. It comes from my parents, who are real fighters in life and have amazingly strong morals and ideals. I know the feeling of being swept up very well, of feeling the pain of the first punch and then standing up and carrying on. The pain is different, but it's what we do on a daily basis making these types of films on our own. Yet I also know that feeling of displacement, of looking in the eyes of a parent who's longing for somewhere else, or feels guilty when they receive a certain call from faraway. In my first film Tangled up in Blue, there was a line from a poem that was often recited: "Exile is a beast. It's a beast that is inside us, around us." All of that, and the questions Said poses himself about his identity is my personal projection on the character. But my experience of life in my city and my country is as happy as Said's before the news of having to leave Italy hits him. And for that I only have my parents to thank, who built an amazing and happy life for me from nothing.
YN: If you look at cinema anywhere in the world, it has always dealt with the present. Even if you make a historical film about Elizabeth I it always has resonance in the present and the present being what it is. Rather than be stuck in depicting a reality that does not exist I think what the revolutions have done is allowed filmmakers and artists to really be part of the 21st century. I don't think anybody will buy slogans, I think that people need cinema to be what it is supposed to be, telling them good fairy tales that will allow them to sleep.
I like Bombay the best because that's home for me and it's the city I grew up in. It's the city I am most used to. I love the crowds, the smells, the noises of Bombay and every other city I have lived in, I always compare it to Bombay. So New York compares the most favorably because it's most like Bombay -- you know the smell of urine, the crowds, the energy and it's a culturally diverse city. That complete sense of life being in your face all the time. You can't escape it, it's right there. I would say Bombay comes first, New York comes second and L.A. comes last! In L.A., I love the weather... I only like New York in the spring and summer, I can't stand it in the winter, I find it utterly depressing. In L.A. the weather is gorgeous but when I was living there it just felt like such a one-industry town. It felt so removed from real life, very empty, almost numbing in a way.
Dubai International Film Festival and GFF Artistic Director Masoud Amralla Al Ali is a wonderfully refreshing combination of poet, mentor and inspiration. While his impressive figure may at first seem intimidating, his warmth and naturally encouraging ways put me at ease, the very moment our conversation started. His insights into some of the films screened in the festival allowed me to view them in a different light and at times, that light of reason changed my mind. Also, I'll never forget his hospitality at the closing night ceremony, as he greeted guests on the red carpet, and so welcomingly shook my hand, ensuring a magnificent end to a fantastic festival. 
OK, so if you live in the U.S. you probably didn't even hear about the Iran earthquake. But if you sat in a movie theater in Dubai, watching a beautiful Saudi documentary about a marriage ceremony in the Comoros islands as I did, you would have been so involved in the film to hardly notice the earth shaking under your seat. For a good 30 seconds I thought my seat mate was moving her foot, maybe to the chanting in the film... We were all so taken by what we were watching, and a little surprised about the rare occurrence, that not a single audience member even talked about it after the screening. It wasn't until I checked in on Twitter hours later that I even knew buildings had been evacuated and spirits shaken as the powerful earthquake was felt throughout the Gulf region. Yes, Grand Marriage was that good. 
It was great to admire the selfless generosity of a filmmaking great with his five students during the Gulf Film Market mentoring sessions. In one of his ever-inspiring tweets -- if you are not following him on Twitter you are missing out - Nasrallah wrote "Have spent the last few days with five talented, enthusiastic and inspiring young filmmakers in Dubai. Thank God, for cinema." Yes, thank God for cinema indeed, and great filmmakers like Nasrallah who clearly possesses the means to help bridge this chaotically separated world of ours! When I had the chance to finally have a conversation with Nasrallah, we agreed to sit out in the Dubai midday sun, which added a mirage-like quality to our talk and made it utterly unforgettable.
Johnson has written a book about what has become his life's work. To Be a Friend Is Fatal: A Story from the Aftermath of America at War will be available October 15th from Scribner. But I first learned about this charismatic man with eyes that betray the injustices he's been fighting at last year's Tribeca Film Festival. There I met, and interviewed filmmaker Beth Murphy, whose documentary The List world-premiered at TFF. The film features Johnson, as well as some of the Iraqi men and women he's managed to help. And those he couldn't. 
Beth Murphy: People here wanted to dive right into the issues. At other Q & A sessions, audiences want to know how I got into the story, how I first met Kirk, and by the time we're done with the softball questions, there's little time left to tackle some really meaty issues around the film and the war itself.