This book provides an in-depth and intimate study of the cinema of Muhammad Malas. One of the well-known auteurs of Arab and Syrian cinema, Malas’s distinctive cinematic project has always confronted the social and political issues of his time. From feature films Dreams of the City, The Night, Bab al Maqam (Passion), and Ladder to Damascus to documentaries such as The Dream and Aleppo: Maqamat of Pleasure, Malas’s films challenge and explore Arab culture and history. Archival images run through the chapters of this book which combines insightful interviews with excerpts from Malas’s literary works and critical explorations of his cinematic style and thematic concerns. The book concludes with Malas’s own words, sharing the treatment of his film project Cinema al-Dunya.

In 1980, Syrian filmmaker Mohammad Malas traveled to Lebanon to film a documentary of interviews with Palestinians of the refugee camps around Beirut about their dreams. The Dream: A Diary of the Film is Malas's haunting chronicle of his immersion in the life of the camps, including Shatila, Burj al-Barajneh, Nahr al-Bared, and Ein al-Helweh. It also describes the filmmaking process, from the research stage to the film's unofficial release, in Shatila Camp, before it reached a global audience. In vivid and poetic detail, Malas provides a snapshot of Palestinian refugees at a critical juncture of Lebanon's bloody civil war, and at the height of the PLO's power in Lebanon before the 1982 Israeli invasion and the PLO's subsequent expulsion. Malas probes his subjects' dreams and existential fears with an artist's acute sensitivity, revealing the extent to which the wounds and contingencies of Palestinian statelessness are woven into the tapestry of a fragmented Arab nationalism. Although he halted his work on the film in 1982, following the massacres of Sabra and Shatila, he completed it in 1987, turning 400 interviews into 23 dreams and 45 minutes of screen time. Both diary and film present these people somewhere between present and past tense, but they are preserved forever in the word, magnetic tape, and now in digital code. The Dream is essential reading for anyone interested in the history of the Palestinians in the modern Middle East, and for students and scholars of Arab filmmaking, politics, and literature.

*A timely window on the world of Middle Eastern cinema, this remarkable overview includes many essays that provide the first scholarly analysis of significant works by key filmmakers in the region.

Building on a growing body of literature, this Handbook provides an up-to-date and authoritative survey of Arab cinema. The collection includes contributions from academics and filmmakers from across the Arab region, Europe, and North America, and fills a gap in media studies by examining the entire Arab region, rather than focusing on one country or theme. The Handbook also sheds light on the heterogeneity of Arab filmmaking not only within the Arab region, but also globally, within diasporic communities. It is split into six parts: Part 1 provides an overview of each sub-region in the Arab world, including a chapter on Arab animation films. Parts 2, 3, and 4 address topical themes, encompassing the representation of gender, religion, and identity politics in Arab cinema. Part 5 discusses the theme of diaspora and Part 6 concludes the volume with reflective essays penned by selected diasporic filmmakers. This book is an essential reference for Arab media and cinema scholars, students, and professional filmmakers. With case studies from across the Arab region, it's also a valuable resource for anyone interested in film and media, global cinema, and the Middle East generally.

Intended for scholars of film and the contemporary Middle East, this title provides a comprehensive overview of cinema in the Arab world, tracing the industry's development, since colonial times. It analyzes the ambiguous relationship with commercial western cinema, and the effect of Egyptian market dominance in the region.

Treating rhetoric and symbols as central rather than peripheral to politics, Lisa Wedeen’s groundbreaking book offers a compelling counterargument to those who insist that politics is primarily about material interests and the groups advocating for them. During the thirty-year rule of President Hafiz al-Asad’s regime, his image was everywhere. In newspapers, on television, and during orchestrated spectacles. Asad was praised as the “father,” the “gallant knight,” even the country’s “premier pharmacist.” Yet most Syrians, including those who create the official rhetoric, did not believe its claims. Why would a regime spend scarce resources on a personality cult whose content is patently spurious? Wedeen shows how such flagrantly fictitious claims were able to produce a politics of public dissimulation in which citizens acted as if they revered the leader. By inundating daily life with tired symbolism, the regime exercised a subtle, yet effective form of power. The cult worked to enforce obedience, induce complicity, isolate Syrians from one another, and set guidelines for public speech and behavior. Wedeen‘s ethnographic research demonstrates how Syrians recognized the disciplinary aspects of the cult and sought to undermine them. In a new preface, Wedeen discusses the uprising against the Syrian regime that began in 2011 and questions the usefulness of the concept of legitimacy in trying to analyze and understand authoritarian regimes.

A free open access ebook is available upon publication. Learn more at www.luminosoa.org. In this book, Deborah A. Starr recuperates the work of Togo Mizrahi, a pioneer of Egyptian cinema. Mizrahi, an Egyptian Jew with Italian nationality, established himself as a prolific director of popular comedies and musicals in the 1930s and 1940s. As a studio owner and producer, Mizrahi promoted the idea that developing a local cinema industry was a project of national importance. Togo Mizrahi and the Making of Egyptian Cinema integrates film analysis with film history to tease out the cultural and political implications of Mizrahi’s work. His movies, Starr argues, subvert dominant notions of race, gender, and nationality through their playful—and queer—use of masquerade and mistaken identity. Taken together, Mizrahi’s films offer a hopeful vision of a pluralist Egypt. By reevaluating Mizrahi’s contributions to Egyptian culture, Starr challenges readers to reconsider the debates over who is Egyptian and what constitutes national cinema.