Whenever I get sick of all the unoriginal mainstream music blasting from loud radios and TVs — which is something of a permanent state for me now — I discover a song or a band in the underground music scene that revives hope.
Contrary to what most commercial musicians want us to believe, music is an art form. It has the ability to stir sadness, joy, or an endless array of emotions we never knew existed. But for music to keep its place in the world of arts, it has to be heartfelt. Artists that aren’t seeking the approval of either ill-informed or commercially-oriented producers tend to deliver this genuine type of music. And although many such acts draw a steadily expanding loyal following, the same commercially-oriented producers don’t usually seem interested. Thus, they remain part of the underground scene — treasures that need to be dug.
This is why I was excited about watching “Microphone”, a film about the underground music scene in Alexandria. I had seen director Ahmad Abdalla’s debut feature, “Heliopolis”, last year at the Cairo International Film Festival. It was beautiful and promising and made “Microphone” even more appealing.
The film lived up to my expectations and more when I watched it in a packed theater as part of this year’s festival. It was joyous and upbeat, in spite of highlighting the artists’ daily frustrations. It’s the effect of music. Here’s my review of it for Daily News Egypt.
The film featured four bands, Y-Crew Family, Mascara, Massar Egbari, Soot Fel Zahma, in addition to a range of other individual artists. According to Abdalla, he chose these out of nine bands. And there are dozens more in Alexandria.
Until the film and the soundtrack are released in Egypt, here are two of my favorite songs in the film. There are more, but these are the ones I found online. Make sure to visit the musicians’ pages on MySpace and Facebook to listen to more of their work.
Massar Egbari & Aly El Halabawy, “Mirsal le Habibty” (A Message to My Love)
The festival started and so is the insanity. But I have to say, I’m still excited and enjoying the experience. Maybe I got used to the insanity that it doesn’t bother me as much.
For example, on Thursday during the premiere of Ahmed Abdullah’s Heliopolis, the entrance was crazy and there was no sense of organization. We were told that we had to buy tickets to get in, even though we had press passes. Then we discovered that press cards are valid on that night and we didn’t even get the seats assigned to us on the tickets. The cast and crew, who seemed to have trouble getting in as well, felt the need to apologize, repeatedly.
There was no need to do that. I myself have seen worse in previous years. I actually watched a film sitting on the floor of that same theater.
The thing is, while everyone kept commenting on the insanity of that premiere, I had other encounters on that day to leave me smiling. I’m watching great films and keep meeting interesting people. Just before the premiere and at the reception hosted by the Indian ambassador (India is the guest of honor at the fest), I met Vikas Swarup, the author of Q&A, the novel on which Slumdog Millionaire was based, Ahmed Maher, director of the Traveler, Khaled Aboul Naga and veteran Egyptian film distributor Antoine Zeind, among many more.
Yesterday, I went to the Samuel L. Jackson press conference. He was charming and the press conference was surprisingly, mmm… a press conference. He was actually asked about his career, his films and other filmmakers he worked with not just Obama and his impression of Egypt. My conference story will be in the Monday edition of Daily News Egypt. It’ll be available online on Sunday night.
The recurrent problem, however, is that many filmmakers are not told about the screenings of their own films, or are told at the last minute. And I thought we journalists had it bad. It happened three times so far, and Daily News Egypt’s culture editor Joseph Fahim will write all the details soon in the paper.
Our critics are still the same, though. And disorganization is still rife. On Friday, after discovering that the Moroccan movie we got excited to watch had pulled out of the international competition. There was another Italian movie playing instead, Marco Bellocchio’s My Mother’s Smile. After it, actor Neri Maracoré from Thursday’s film Friends at Bar Margherita walked in. He was told that this would be his press conference. It was clear to all of us that, like us, he too was a victim of disorganization. But some didn’t let go.
One critic insisted on discussing My Mother’s Smile with Maracoré. “You look like one of the actors in the film, are you sure you didn’t take part in it?” she told him. I had to interfere. I raised my hand and asked a question, while another audience member tried to knock some sense into said critic.
We did discuss My Mother’s Smile after all, but later in the day after another screening for director Bellocchio. I don’t remember said critic raising any questions about the film.
But what struck me, was my inability to structure a question in Arabic on the spot about deconstruction of religion and faith, the commercialization of religion and atheism. [My Mother’s Smile explores these issues and had drawn its share of criticism when it was released]. The thing is I read and write Arabic and have started my career as an Arabic-language reporter. But after some thinking, I realized that all the conversations and discussions I had about the issue were all in English. They’ve been all healthy debates about faith and religion, but realizing that I’ve never had those debates with Arabic speakers is scary.
This will be my sixth year covering the Cairo International Film Festival and I have to admit, I still feel excited about it. Fully aware of its shortcomings, I’ve had my share of its good moments and blunders.
Even though many critics would say (and I agree) that the selection of films are not the best, it’s still an opportunity to watch a lot of non-commercial non-Hollywood films and meet people passionate about filmmaking — artists not just stars.
But who am I kidding; it’s also an opportunity to rub shoulders with the stars.
Name dropping
It’s there that I interviewed Morgan Freeman, which became the highlight of my life for a year. I had the pleasure to have lunch with him along with Pakinam Amer, Tamara Yousry, Yasmine Shehata and Mariam Abu Ouf. He struck us all as a man with the spirit and passion of a 20-something, not the veteran actor in his late 60s.
It’s there that I met Mustafa Al-Akkad (director/producer of The Message and Omar El Mokhtar), one year before he died in Jordan’s 2005 bombings.
It’s there that I saw Omar Sharif for the first time in real life. I interviewed him later on.
And I briefly met Hany Abu-Assad (Paradise Now), during the premiere of Leilat Sequot Baghdad (a personal favorite).
I’ve also attended press conferences for Susan Sarandon and Charlize Theron.
Susan Sarandon in Cairo. By Sarah El Sirgany
A female reporter gave Thero a gift at this press conference and went out and hugged her. -By Sarah El Sirgany
During this year, a young Egyptian actor was relentlessly hitting on the stars (there’s no other way to describe his comments and questions to them at press conferences). I think he also told Theron at the press conference that she’s cute or something along these lines. And Alicia Silverstone eventually told him “I’m married.”
This actor and others like him aside, I’ve met a host of filmmakers from all around the world, passionate about what they do. Some swore never to come back — director Juanma Bajo Ulloa of the brilliant film Fragil is one of them — and others like French director Safy Nebbou, who I met in 2004, came back last year to win another prize.
Criticism from participating filmmakers range from lack of organization to allegations that the winning films are known way before the closing ceremony. Concerning that one of those winning filmmakers told me, award in hand, that he had received a call a couple of days before the closing telling him to travel to Egypt and he’ll find a pleasant surprise, this proposition isn’t that far fetched.
There’s a consensus in criticism that the local press are only interested in covering Egyptian and Arab films, leaving the screenings of beautiful foreign films relatively empty. (Foreign press is largely absent). One Indian producer/director approached me a couple of years ago, asking if I could help him invite more journalists to his morning screening. I did, but still, my film contacts at the time couldn’t fill the hall.
Live Scandals
I’ve also watched a lot scandals unfold. An Egyptian producer and a critic took the ‘discussion’ to a whole new level, and if it weren’t for the stage separating the two, the fight would have definitely got physical.
Aside from how they described each other when interviewed later (‘Ostaz eh, da combarss,’ the producer told us), it turned out that the reason for the fight wasn’t the film as we thought. A knowledgeable source from the industry claimed that this specific critic was criticizing the performance of one new actress, who was secretly married to this producer, who didn’t want anyone badmouthing his trophy wife. But that was unconfirmed.
In the screening of Dunia (officially translated as “Don’t Kiss Me in the Eye”), Lebanese director Jocelyne Saab and Egyptian film critic Khaireya El Beshlawy were also inches away from physically attacking each others after yet another scandalous press conference, with each calling the other crazy in later interviews.
Hala Khalil’s Cut and Paste’s screening wasn’t scandalous but it was full of theatricals.
The screening of Inas El-Degheidy’s El Bahethat An El Horreya (Freedom Seekers) should be credited for uniting the feminists female critics with the all-mucho male critics, as both camps struggled to hold their laughs during and after the screening. Some laughed out loud though. And they all joked about its absurdity and bad filmmaking in harmonious unison. Bless You Inas.
Lost in Translation?
The problem, which can be blamed for the scandals and the unintelligent comments that plague the post-film discussions, is the labeling: In English-language schedules, it’s referred to as a press conference, but in Arabic-language schedules, it’s referred to as nadwa or a panel discussion.
It leaves room for people, some supposedly established film critics, to take the microphone and share with the rest of us their experience watching film. Aside from the fact that many of them have a lot of space in their newspapers and magazines to do just that, often enough time runs out before more important and relevant questions about the film, its script and production are asked or answered.
Sometimes, the nadwa/press conference moderators feel obliged to either tell off the person with the mic or take the opportunity to share their own experience with the class. Some of those moderators/critics even offer more elaborate and opinionated translations (usually from English to Arabic) of the filmmakers’ answers.
My reaction ranges from bored to embarrassed. My dear friend and colleague Joseph Fahim (Daily News Egypt’s culture editor and film critic and the person to follow in this or any festival) once wrote that my way of coping with these nadwa/conferences is to draw people hanging or shooting themselves. Unfortunately, it’s true.
TV, grrr
But my problems aren’t limited to the questions. Every year I get really close to punching a TV reporter in the face, with ART’s Bousy Shalaby on top of the list. All have a sense of self entitlement to cut off any conversation to grab any director/actor/scriptwriter by the hand and lead them outside the hall. There’s absolutely no regard to the journalist or critic talking to this filmmaker or the others who have been waiting for their turn in the conversation/interview.
They brush off anyone loud criticism with “It’s TV” with a how-can’t-you-understand-you-insignificant-creature look. I have no idea if I should blame the video cameras for fueling this sense of entitlement. But if you ever hear about a journalist beating a TV station’s crew with their own camera, there’s a 90 percent chance it’ll be me.
I’ve met few filmmakers who didn’t allow this to happen, politely telling off people who cut into conversations. Dutch filmmaker Albert ter Heerdt is one of those people.
I’ll still go to this year’s festival, but I like every year I’ll be cautious about blunders. This is however not a professional analysis of the festival or the unconfirmed allegations of financial corruption. Many of the world’s top film critics and publications have wrote detailed studies of its shortcomings and how it can be fixed. But every year, festival organizers choose to ignore that. They don’t even invite those top critics and others like them. And that’s only one of the reason why the festival doesn’t get adequate coverage in international media, that if it get any at all.
Disclaimer: I’ve put too many links here, more than I usually do. This post is readable without those links. But if you a drama addict, some of the stories I linked to document in more detail some of weirdest incidents I’ve witnessed. Unfortunately, some stories are not available online anymore or have been included in online archives that require payment for access. Some of those unavailable stories though were aggregated by other websites and blogs and this is why, some links don’t direct to newspapers/magazine websites.