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By
Marlin Dick
The
Road Not Traveled
One of the most intriguing Arabic-language television dramas
in recent years was The Road to Kabul (2004), which
told the story of the Arab and Afghan mujahideen in
Afghanistan in the 1980s. Or rather tried to tell, since The
Road to Kabul never made it past episode eight. The state
of Qatar, the producer of this particular musalsal
(television series), heeded an official American request to
drop the show and not send the remaining episodes to stations
for viewing by a large Pan-Arab satellite audience.(1) The 30-episode
Road to Kabul featured Arab, Afghan, American and Soviet
characters, as well as big production values, location shooting
in London and Jordan, Jordanian executive production and direction,
and a largely Syrian cast. Since some of the main characters
were mujahideen and the show ended with the 2003 invasion
of Iraq, the US was worried that telling the fighters’
story might encourage a new crop for this decade’s Islamist
magnet. Iraq ironically, early promotional spots that portrayed
the Taliban as fanatics also angered some hard-core Islamists
who issued their own warning against the show’s producers
and cast, adding death threats to the US ultimatum.
In fact,
a number of recent shows have irritated Washington, Tel Aviv
and Islamists alike, namely Egyptian and Syrian soap operas
in which Jews or Israelis are nefarious evildoers, like Faris
bi-la Jawad (Knight Without a Horse, 2002) and Al Shatat
(The Diaspora, 2003), and Abu Dhabi’s 2001 sketch show
Irhabiyyat (Terrorism Tales). A dramatic series on
Yahya ‘Ayyash, the Palestinian bomb maker assassinated
by Israel in 1996, remains a project-in-waiting, ostensibly
stalled due to lack of interest.(2)
Arabic-language
drama and comedy musalsals, usually premiered during
the peak-viewing month of Ramadan and aired throughout the year
at various times, might make headlines with the controversies
that arise, but Western audiences have little access to such
fare. Syrian State Television has completed the subtitling of
some series into English, French, and Spanish but primarily
airs the final group to please the Arab Diaspora in Latin America.
While controversial series register, various commercial and
political constraints influence production, which exhibits a
diversity of messages and styles. For every show that causes
a stir in the Western media, there are perhaps two dozen others
that offer tame, harsh, nuanced, or otherwise interesting portrayals
of contemporary topics and events, whether domestic or international.
What these shows offer to Arab viewers is also discussed openly
in Arabic-language media, which debates whether or not the musalsal
industry and its various components are in good shape. Identifying
a simple “Arab shows say X” formula is difficult,
as the operative description is “Arab television industries
try to say all of this.” One conclusion is that when the
regional situation heated up with the Al Aqsa Intifada, the
attacks of 11 September 2001, and the US-led invasion of Iraq,
musalsals have reflected the Arab world’s tension,
albeit in widely different ways. In this case, at least, it
seems that art imitates life and not the other way around, as
would-be censors of inflammatory or objectionable material would
have it.
The
Outpouring
For decades, Egyptian musalsals dominated the Arab
television scene although industries in other Arab countries
produced drama and comedy series. Egyptian shows were the staple
and were sold to largely captive audiences in the Arab world,
mirroring the country’s dominance in film and literature.
Until the early 1990s satellite boom, Egyptian soap operas navigated
the “red lines” of censorship and often produced
safe treatments of well-worn themes. One infamous genre was
rich girl falls in love with poor boy, or the same story with
socio-economic categories switched. With its able actors and
writers, Egypt also became famous for multi-layered socio-political
panoramas. The writer Usama Anwar ‘Ukkasha serves as the
exemplar of this school since the 1990s, when Egypt picked apart
various eras of its modern history, chronicling family, neighborhood,
class and regional struggles from the Khedives to the era of
Gamal Abdul Nasser and post-Nasserist infitah, and
the implications for society. Although the foreign “other”
appeared in Egyptian drama, the pre-Internet and pre-satellite
era helped contain the fuss raised by individual programs.
Egypt was securely in the driver’s seat until several
factors allowed Syrian-based production to offer strong competition.
During the decades of Egyptian dominance, Syrian shows were
stamped by the socialist realism school(3) and the only series
allowed to be filmed locally were produced by state television.
Around 1986, the Syrian authorities quietly encouraged private
producers to film their shows in Syria, after years in places
like Greece. The subsequent appearance of the satellite market
meant more encouragement and marketing opportunities. Several
big companies stood out in the booming Syrian industry although
dozens of firms have been created, sometimes producing only
one show and then going dormant.(4) During the “outpouring
of (television) drama,” or al-fawra al-dramiyya
as the media termed it, the Syrian musalsal quickly
became a staple in the Arab world. Syrian comedies and dramas,
both historical and contemporary, gained regional followings
thanks to several mid-1990s hits.
Khan al-Harir, a socio-political drama set in politically
turbulent 1950s Aleppo and thick with Aleppine dialect, gained
mass and critical acceptance. Najdat Anzur, a Jordanian music
video director, relocated north to Syria and created lavish,
early 20th century period pieces like Ukhwat al-Turab
(Brothers of the Soil) and Nihayat Rajul Shuja’
(End of a Brave Man). Anzur also became famous for several modern,
big-budget “fantasy” historical epics, set in a
vague pre-Islamic past and ignoring historical detail. Yasir
al-‘Azma’s pre-satellite hit satirical sketch show
Maraya (Mirrors) continued into the satellite era,
joined by comedies like Yawmiyyat Mudir ‘Amm
(Diary of a Director General) and ‘Aileh Khams Nujum
(Five Star Family). The latter inspired several sequels and
the former saw its star Ayman Zaydan cast in similar comedies—signs
of success in an industry where comprehensive viewing statistics
and sales figures are hard to come by.
From
Socialist Realism to Riches
Comedy series and sketch shows, contemporary urban and rural
drama, 19th century period pieces, older historical epics—all
were being produced at a feverish pitch in the Syria-based industry,
where conservative Gulf funding and audience tastes also had
an impact, usually taking the form of pressure on firms to produce
politically or socially conservative material. Syrian actors
(and those acting in Syria) suddenly became known around the
Arab world, providing at least anecdotal evidence of the fawra.
Content and quality, of course, varied from show to show, but
Syria’s stamp on the industry rested on three interlocking
factors. First, even before the satellite age, Syrian television
producers had begun outdoor and “natural” shooting,
meaning a complete flight from the studio setting so characteristic
of Egyptian fare. Syrian shows set in the Old City of Damascus
were actually filmed there, imparting a visual “authenticity”
that Egyptian musalsals largely lacked. Second, the
important Gulf market enjoyed Syrian shows as an alternative
to Egyptian ones; Syrian actors had been doing “bedouin”
soap operas competently for decades and were accepted by the
Gulfis as distant cousins from across the badiya in
a way the “Pharaonic” Egyptians were not. Meanwhile,
the many Levantine guest workers in Gulf countries probably
rendered the Syrian Arabic dialect acceptable to Gulf audiences,
whose countries’ public and private stations both funded
and bought Syrian shows. Third, the competition engendered by
Syria’s private firms and a new Pan-Arab satellite market
produced incentives to take chances with new genres, ideas,
acting and directing styles, and casts of hundreds, if not several
thousand. The genre of pre-modern historical epic, suddenly
jolted with big production values (thanks to regional advertising
revenues) in the form of costumes, personnel, and location shooting
across the Arab world and abroad, played to Syria’s comparative
advantage. Scores of cadres graduated from the state theater
institute, firmly grounded in formal Arabic, the language of
choice in historical epics these days.
One measure
of how Syria put its stamp on narrative television production
is through language. Pre-satellite historical epics by Egyptians
might be filmed in colloquial Arabic, something practically
unthinkable today. In earlier shows, Israeli or Zionist characters
would speak classical Arabic to distinguish their Hebrew, but
Syrian shows have now taken to using actors speaking Hebrew,
coached by university professors of the language at state universities.
They have also used the same strategy with Westerners, i.e.
such characters now regularly speak English and French, not
classical Arabic. But most importantly, if one is looking for
someone to play a medieval Arab poet or an extra who can say
a few lines in classical Arabic, one goes to Syria. The Syrian
and Gulf entry allowed for new creativity to spur the Pan-Arab
or Arabic-language industry(5) and prompted the Egyptians to
get their act together. One result has been to see the top three
satellite stations (MBC, Abu Dhabi and Dubai) diversify their
selections of prime-time Ramadan viewing, mixing Egyptian with
Syrian and, increasingly, a “third wave” of Gulf
shows. Egypt remains the leader, albeit looking over its shoulder
nervously at what Syria produces.
Domestic
Concerns
The Western media has picked up on some controversial shows
of the Arab satellite era, or those that resonate in society
as they become “hits.”(6) Shows from the 1990s until
the present have featured treatments and messages that have
offended a number of important political actors: the state,
the West, Israel, and Islamist political movements. Israel and
some Jewish organizations were angered by the aforementioned
The Diaspora and Knight Without a Horse, the
latter also provided negative, cartoon-like portrayals of the
British and the Turks. Before regional tension became focused
so intensely on Israel and the US,(7) Syrian shows managed to
annoy Turkey for mentioning the Armenian genocide by the Ottomans
and their general cruelty (in Anzur’s Brothers of
the Soil), and France, thanks to portrayals of buffoonish
French officers from the Mandate Era. Ayyam al-Ghadab
(Days of Anger), lived up to its name by irritating French diplomats
in Damascus.(8) Saudi Arabia’s own Tash Ma Tash,
a sketch show similar in form to Syria’s Maraya,
earned the ire of Islamists in 2004 for portraying bombings
in Saudi Arabia as the work of bumbling idiots who are clueless
about their professed cause.
Purely domestic
concerns, though, are the standard fare. Many musalsals
either treat or at least raise issues like corruption, the role
of religion and extremism in society, or the status of women.
However, some critics say shows often raise issues but then
back off before saying anything too relevant. A survey of leading
shows and individuals over the last decade reveals a considerable
emphasis on domestic settings, themes, and problems. Syria’s
al-Fusul al-Arba’a (The Four Seasons, 1999),
written by Rim Hanna and Dal’a Rahbi, had an ensemble
cast and qualified as standard social drama; it ran for several
seasons. Leading Syrian director Haitham Haqqi has dabbled in
various types of story-lines. In 2004, his al-Khayt al-Abyad
(The White Thread) took the state media as its setting, showing
employees and executives sometimes unsure of where the “red
lines” are as officials are encourage media reform and
openness. In Egypt, most works by leading actors Yahya Fakharani,
Nour Sharif and Hussein Fahmy have focused on domestic settings
and issues, while ‘Ukkasha, with his precise sociological
portraits, is the best-known of the country’s writers.
One recent Egyptian show chronicled the life of the famous female
singer Umm Kulthum.
In an industry
with at least a dozen prominent actresses, many Egyptian shows
feature female protagonists, often cast as heads of companies
or professionals facing various obstacles on their way up the
ladder, but producing a Dallas-like remove from most citizens’
daily concerns. While viewers might be intrigued by some political
content in some musalsals, the hit Egyptian show al-Hajj
Mitwally (2001) delighted some and angered others with
its popular protagonist, a genial perfume merchant married to
four women in contemporary Cairo.
Circle
the Wagons?
Leaving aside al-Hajj Mitwally for the moment, the
Al Aqsa Intifada of 2000 saw musalsals react in both
daring and conservative ways. In 2001, not one but two series
were made about Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi, the famous “liberator”
of Jerusalem. Right around Salah al-Din’s airing and apres
came the deluge: Shows included the pre-Islamic al-Zeer Salim,
Imru al-Qays and Dhi Qar (a famous Arab-Persian battle), the
Omayyad-era series al-Hajjaj and Faris Bani Marwan
(Knight of the Marwanids), and the Abbasid- and post-Abbasid
era series al-Mutanabbi, and Abu Firas al-Hamdani
(both poets), ‘Umar Khayyam (the Persian mathematician,
freethinker and poet), Hulagu (the Mongol destroyer
of Baghdad), and (the Mameluke Sultan) Baibars, about
whom two were made in 2005. Andalusia itself has seen Saqr
Quraysh (Hawk of the Quraysh), about the Omayyad Abdel-Rahman
al-Dakhil, as well as Zaman al-Wasl (Time of Joining),
and Rabi’ Qurtuba (Cordoba Spring). Two more,
Muluk al-Tawa’if and al-Murabitun wal-Andalus
(about the warring Muslim “taifa” statelets and
the Murabitun, or Almoravid Islamic dynasty in Spain), were
made for Ramadan 2005. A few shows set in the last 120 years
or so have contained crudely racist versions of the Arab-Zionist
conflict and angered the US and Israel for their portrayals
of Zionist Jews. But many more have opted to lament the current
imbalance in Arab-Israeli and East-West relations by putting
the spotlight on Arab-Islamic history in every era except the
“golden age.”(9)
These historical
series have different animating themes but their common denominators
include the need to overcome Arab and/or Muslim disunity in
the face of foreign threats. Both Salah al-Din’s image
as a winner, after the Intifada of Jerusalem broke out, and
the Mongol Hulagu’s infamy as the destroyer of Baghdad,
in the run-up to the American sacking of that city in 2003,
are meant to comment on the region’s current geopolitical
situation, the first expressing a wish and the other a lament.
Relatively
few musalsals have been made about the Palestinian-Israeli
struggle in recent years, compared to the importance of the
issue politically. Instead, the broader West versus Islam/the
Arabs motif is emerging in both historical and contemporary
series, and not always at face value. In the 2003 Syrian show
Ayyamna Hilweh (Our Lovely Days), the father describes
a situation of being caught in a struggle between “the
monstrous and the backward,” respectively the West and
extremist Islamists, perhaps an echo of Arab civil society’s
voice in its television industry. Despite the threats flung
at such shows by both the US and Islamists in recent years,
producers cannot ignore events seen on the news if they want
to compete for viewers. Regardless, Zionism and the West are
not overwhelming preoccupations in television drama, regardless
of what those who argue of pathology in Arab societies might
expect.
The 2005
crop reflects this diversity in topics and themes. One show
repeated The Road to Kabul’s experience. AlHawr Al‘Ayn,(10)
directed by Anzur, earned harassment from Islamists for its
portrayal of jihadist bombers in Saudi Arabia. The show offered
a view close to that of the Saudi establishment, namely that
(armed) jihad must be agreed upon by the entire community of
Muslims, and not a group of enthusiasts. Considerable space
is given to opposing arguments about what Muslims should do
in order to right the world’s wrongs, presented by a government
imam and a jihadist sheikh who is trying to recruit a young
Saudi Arabian. However, the show is set among a community of
Arab foreign workers and their families in Riyadh, and the theme
of parents oppressing children, and men abusing women, is also
prominent.
While some
post-Intifada shows like AlHawr Al'Ayn (The Virgins of Paradise)
have reacted to regional and international events, there are
various other concerns and settings. During Ramadan 2005, other
series dealt with AIDS, the life of 20th century poet Nizar
Qabbani, and a fictional Egyptian sailor, also set in the last
century. The Syrian contemporary genre offered some purely domestic-oriented
series, which purportedly gained favorable ratings.(11) And
although industry executives believe that historical series
have now peaked, at least five were made in 2005, involving
at least two leading directors. If a show’s creators want
to address the current regional situation, they can choose a
historical allegory, portraying the Romans, Byzantines, Crusaders,
or Mongols as menacing outsiders, or take a chance with a straightforward
modern treatment. In the early episodes of 2004’s aborted
The Road to Kabul, principal characters argue over
whether it is more appropriate to go to Afghanistan, go to Palestine,
or better one’s self through study and work as the most
appropriate response to the current situation. Alas, an interesting
debate was ended, thanks to Washington’s zero-tolerance
policy for uncomfortable ideas from the Arab-Muslim world.
Historical
Failures and Successes
Critics, observers, and industry members offer differing views
on the overall impact of historical drama and other pointedly
political shows. Walid Sayf, a Jordanian-Palestinian who has
written both Islamic historical epics and modern ones, is identified
by some as pro-Islamic, but few people are easy to label. While
most producers respect the Islamic conventions required for
selling their shows, writers and directors usually qualify as
secularists, reformists, conservatives, Arab nationalists, leftists,
or some combination of the above. Some historical series are
said to glorify Islam, in a general way, elbowing aside any
room for secular models. Others stress the idea that historical
series, in the end, lionize rulers (or “tribal”
politics) and fail to present compelling opposition to the status
quo. On the other side, conservatives accuse historical series
of “distorting” the Arabs’ past by focusing
on rulers’ bloody and internal power struggles. Meanwhile,
critics and insiders acknowledge that many shows avoid problematic
issues and figures.(12)
In 2005, Muluk al-Tawa’if (War Lords) stands
out as a rare achievement, a historical tale that is gripping
to watch and highlights a successful mode of inter-Arab cooperation,
as it was Syrian-produced, Syrian-directed, written by a Palestinian-Jordanian,
acted largely by Syrians and Moroccans and others, and shot
in Morocco. The court characters’ fortunes rise and fall,
the dialogue is strong, and the backdrop is intriguing. The
city-state of Cordoba is about to lose its political autonomy
to the austere al-Murabitun from North Africa, whose military
might is indispensable in order to meet the challenge of King
Alfonso VI of Castile and Leon. The militant, puritanical al-Murabitun
dislodge their allies, the effete rulers of Cordoba, busy with
their wine, poetry, and dancing girls, magnificent urban achievements,
and court intrigue. Director Hatim ‘Ali and writer Sayf,
by presenting leading actors and lush settings (made possible
by satellite revenues) and flawed characters, appear set on
exposing and not glorifying, which can earn either critical
or popular success or both. Is the Spanish (Western) threat
important in Muluk al-Tawa’if? Yes, but the series
does not use Alfonso VI as a scapegoat for the woes of Andalusia
and the fall of Cordoba, indicating a more mature, self-critical
and perhaps resonant message.
Another
exception to usually lackluster historical productions aired
in 2000, the last year before the Intifada, was the acclaimed
series al-Zeer Salim, written by the late Mamduh ‘Adwan,
a Syrian secularist. The 6th century Al-Zeer Salim,
the name of the title character, is one of the Arab world’s
most popular epics, told in cafes by al-hakawati (storytellers)
in the recent past and compiled in book form today. But unlike
the tale’s superhero, ‘Adwan’s al-Zeer was
a drunkard for the early part of the show before being compelled
to avenge his brother’s murder. The popular tale ends
with al-Zeer’s victory; the musalsal his defeat.
‘Adwan said the show earned detractors for allowing al-Zeer
to cry excessively and exhibit other failings unworthy of a
manly tribal “leader.”(13) ‘Adwan also complained
that when Arabs are confronted with actual events from their
history, they might find them too risqué or controversial
to see on television, and acknowledged that some incidents and
scenes in al-Zeer were dropped to please the producer and director’s
tamer political inclinations.
‘Adwan
noted that he didn’t dare introduce the religion of one
of the show’s principals, the Taghlibi tribe, who were
Christian Arabs. Simply mentioning such an identity would have
been too problematic. Even simply telling the story of a 40-year
tribal war prompted today’s members of those tribes to
write to ‘Adwan, angry about being singled out for “negative”
portrayal. Another criticism targeted a supposedly Jewish character
who befriends al-Zeer; ‘Adwan shrugged off the criticism.(14)
While al-Zeer’s
rich characters and dialogue attracted viewers, other historical
shows merely catalogue events or bloody battles and palace intrigue,
with little for the common man. Portraying a major hero like
Salah al-Din might have sounded like a good idea right after
the Intifada of 2000, for example, but enthusiasm for the character
as a symbol meant the Kurdish savior’s negative sides
were glossed over.(15) Glorifying the past and presenting characters
without flaws are not successful tactics to retain viewers.
The
Hajjaj Syndrome
One historical epic that fell into the “court intrigue”
trap was al-Hajjaj, a 2003 series that followed the
career of an Omayyad-era governor of the Hijaz and Iraq. The
show accurately laid out a complicated three-way struggle among
the Omayyad dynasts in Damascus, the Mecca-based Zubayris challengers
to the caliphate, and the “ultra-orthodox” Khawarij
movement based in Iran. The Omayyads were, as history and the
show indicate, Machiavellian politicians happy to buy off enemies
as easily as fight them. Ibn Zubayr, the challenger whose caliphate
stretched from Mecca to Kufa and Basra, was portrayed as an
ascetic more interested in prayer and rebuilding the Kaaba (damaged
after earlier Omayyad attacks) than engaging in politics, while
the Khawarij were mere cartoonish, stern religious fighters
whose other aspects were ignored.(16) While the Omayyads did
not come off particularly well in the series, they do (at al-Hajjaj’s
instigation) Arabicize the new state’s records and create
a new currency—moves aimed at reducing Byzantine and Persian
influences on the new Arab-Islamic entity. A main reason for
the Zubayris’ defeat, an unwillingness to purchase political
loyalty, is not explored thoroughly.
With this
three-way conflict outlined, a sub-text emerges: the Omayyads’
opponents put religion/ideology before state-building and realist
diplomacy, and failed. The Omayyad Caliph Abdel-Malik Ibn Marwan
repeatedly invokes the need to put down internal rebellion before
he can confront the Byzantines. Since the show did not tell
the full story of the relatively short, 90-year Omayyad dynasty,
but rather its ascendancy, it appeared to promote the idea that
leaders primarily interested in (religious) ideology and belief,
like the Zubayris and Khawarij, are doomed to lose.(17) Tellingly,
three-quarters of the show covered the siege of and battle for
Mecca even though al-Hajjaj is considerably more famous for
his later exploits in Iraq, where he told the people of Kufa
that he envisioned them as ripe for mass decapitation unless
they submitted completely to Omayyad rule. A Ramadan soap opera
whose protagonist spends considerable time violently punishing
Iraqis would have been an unappetizing message for the holy
month, particularly after the 2003 US-led invasion. As it was,
al-Hajjaj was shown summarily executing two “Iraqis”
who dared to question his orders, but the show is more about
his struggle with Ibn Zubayr instead of with the more fearsome
Khawarij, whom he only begins to face after pacifying Iraq,
in the final episodes.(18)
The case
of the Khawarij movement is also instructive. The parallels
with Al Qaida today, such as the group’s railing against
un-Islamic rulers, probably explain why musalsals have
yet to focus on this incredibly mobilized and fierce movement.
In al-Hajjaj, their portrayal is cleansed of inconvenient historical
facts. For instance, the Khawarij were famous for having women
fighters among their ranks.(19) In the series, one Khawarij
leader is accompanied by his wife in battle, but she stands
out as the sole female character in the entire movement.
Although
historical fare might react to current events, shows often “play
it safe” and avoid treating certain topics and events
(religion, sectarianism, and women, for example) in ways deemed
too controversial in today’s tense political climate.
The 2005 Syrian-Kuwaiti co-production of al-Zahir Baibars,
for example, omits the Mameluke champion’s more worrisome
exploits, like his repressing Shi’a and Isma’ilis
and, after his key role in defeating the Mongols, his massacring
of Damascene Christians for their disloyalty. Those involved
in the show cite either the need or the desire to avoid “negative”
topics under current conditions.
Comedy
Channel
Historical epics occupy some prime-time viewing during Ramadan,
when considerable effort and expense are put into programming
and luring audiences. However, non-Ramadan viewing schedules
are equally instructive, since historical series are re-run
these days only rarely. The various contemporary drama musalsals,
mainly Egyptian, are the kings here, but again, Syrian-produced
“messages” and genres are holding their own, often
promising more overtly political treatments. And comedy is no
slouch when it comes to competing for viewers. Arabic-language
stations re-run shows like Yasir al-‘Azma’s Maraya,
as well as sketches from Buq’at Daw’ (Spotlight),
a satirical sketch show similar in form.
One might
also see Syrian mid-1990s satellite-era comedies like the above-mentioned
Five Star Family and Diary of a Director General.
Some of the comedy is well done and timely enough to be aired
again a decade later. Five-Star Family was a purposefully
over-the-top portrayal of a stingy widow in a “modern”
but run-down middle class neighborhood in Damascus, raising
three lazy, flaky kids and endlessly hatching schemes to gain
influence over friends and neighbors. It was a welcome antidote
to period Damascene serials of the satellite era that often
featured an idealized, tradition-steeped and vacuous local society,
usually class-less, where people help each other instead of
scheming against them as in Five-Star Family. When
the mother decides to begin smuggling goods between Beirut and
Damascus by wearing 20 layers of clothes and carrying the rest
in huge bags, she calls it “import-export.” Also
during the mid-1990s in Syria, the broad, sometimes slapstick
Diary of a Director General resonated with its protagonist,
a high-level bureaucrat, donning various disguises to root out
wrongdoing in the public institution he runs, a funny take on
petty corruption.
While the
politically sharp Maraya gradually softened in its
bite, Spotlight arrived in 2000 and expressed the new
(satellite) generation’s growing clout in the industry,
as young actors and directors and a rotating group of sketch
writers fueled the show. Some Spotlight sketches were
particularly nuanced and witty and some were flat, but the winners
were on the mark. In some Spotlight sketches, the mukhabarat
characters that are lambasted speak the coastal dialect of the
ruling Alawis, a politically sensitive act in Syria, but one
that shows how different the regime can be from Saddam Hussein’s
Iraq, where the equivalent, alluding to Tikritis, would have
been unthinkable and perhaps fatal. Spotlight has offered
acerbic treatment of corruption by the sons of officials and
weightier matters like the fate of the Arab nation. In one sketch,
after the US-led war against Iraq, a father spends his days
cloistered indoors with the blinds drawn, maniacally taping
the Iraq news non-stop. His wife and daughter are exasperated
by his antics. He says he’s upset and taping things “for
future generations.” A neighbor who observes the situation
offers to put the father in touch with “the neighborhood
guys,” who are soon leaving to fight in Iraq. The father
turns white and asks, “Y-y-you mean, where the b-b-bombing
is?” and quickly drops his obsession.
The more
sophisticated a comedy, the likelier it will catch on with sophisticated
Arab audiences, as evident in the contrast between the more
cartoonish one-year Terrorism Tales (notorious for
showing Ariel Sharon as a vampire) and the multi-year success
of Spotlight and the sequels it has inspired.
Caught
in the Middle
On the American late-night comedy show Saturday Night Live,
a semi-running sketch has featured a “Middle Eastern”
news broadcast with a heavily-veiled female anchor (suggesting
Iranian rather than Arab) who, along with her male colleague,
parrot Arab state propaganda or Usama Bin Laden-ish rhetoric.
Obviously, Arab news standards are usually quite better than
what SNL has presented, while the world of the musalsal
exhibits fairly lively debates and issues, albeit with certain
taboos and risks that often cause problems and guide production
choices. One theme that emerges from these shows is that the
Arab and/or Muslim peoples must band together to prevent the
West, and specifically the US, from exercising influence and
“carving up the region,” as many fear. Some shows
are focused on the modern West and Zionism and have no reason
to portray them as particularly sympathetic, but it’s
roughly the same story: Europeans, Turks or Zionists (and Byzantines,
Crusaders, Romans, etc.) represent the outsider/occupier. Many
Islamic history tales might have lavish promotional spots but
when it comes to content, vary widely in how they address the
past, or anything at all. Only a handful of the historical series
avoid clichés and instead examine human and power relationships
or tell an entertaining story.
The contemporary
social drama genre accounts for the largest number of shows
and in these the West is rarely a major player. They might remark
on the West and current events, but usually focus on struggles
over love, money, and power (ideally all three) in a private
firm, government office, neighborhood or village, where the
machinations of today’s Arab states are far more important
for characters than direct intervention by the West. A similar
message—that domestic concerns take priority—comes
from most comedy musalsals and sketch shows examining
local societies suffering from weighty problems and requiring
reform on various levels. Spotlight, on some occasions,
has reportedly angered top Syrian officials when it “pushes
things too far.”
The Gulf’s
impact on overall content is hard to quantify although it certainly
appears in what is bought by stations and funded by companies
and emirs. The Saudis and the like certainly promote generally
conservative shows, both politically and socially, but some
writers and directors break through against taboos. (20) The
experiences of The Road to Kabul, AlHawr AlAyn,
and Tash ma Tash demonstrate how producers must also
take into account the moods of both the world’s superpower
and Islamist groups when marketing their wares. In an age of
“globalization,” or in this case regionalization
with international tie-ins, Arab shows have also offended partisans
of Zionism, the French Mandate and the Ottoman Empire. In the
more urgently political climate of post-2000 Arab satellite
television production, writers have reacted by saying that people
in the region are caught between a struggle between “the
monstrous and the backward,” as expressed by a character
in Our Lovely Days. This tension between the West and
Islam can manifest itself directly for those in the industry,
as demonstrated by the fate of The Road to Kabul, caught
between the anger of American diplomats and Muslim fundamentalists.
We still await a musalsal set squarely on Hamas, for
example, or the resistance and violence in Iraq, but there’s
always next year.
Marlin Dick is a freelance journalist residing
in Lebanon. He writes on politics and culture and has translated
Arabic literature and Syrian, Lebanese, and Palestinian films.
NOTES
1. The show’s
writer, Jamal Abu Hamdan, made the accusation on Future Television
during Ramadan 2004. The show was aired in a prime time slot
on Saudi-owned private station MBC. The director, Muhammad ‘Aziziyya,
confirmed the incident to me in an interview in August 2005.
2. According
to Basil Khatib, a Palestinian resident of Syria who was slated
to direct the project before it stalled.
3. For a
treatment of various aspects of Syria’s satellite-era
boom, see Najib Nsayr and Mazin Bilal, al-drama al-talaviziuniyya
al-suriyya: qira’a fi adawat al-mushafaha (Syrian
Television Drama: A Reading of the Tools of Oral Communication)
(Damascus: Dar al-Hisad, 1998) and al-drama al-talaviziuniyya
al-suriyya: hilm niyahat al-qarn (Syrian Television Drama:
The End of the Fin-de-Siecle Dream) (Damascus: 1999).
4. In addition,
Syrian State Television has continued to produce shows and purchase
some private sector offerings. Around 190 Syrian firms were
on the books in 2004, a figure that covers for many slow performers,
since around 20-30 shows are made a year and several companies
make more than one.
5. The fortunes
of Pan-Arabist cultural production and Pan-Arabic culture are
becoming worthier of study in television production, where individual
countries’ industries, thanks to links to the wider Arab
world, can reap more benefits (audiences, producers, directors,
writers or actors) while facing more constraints. Few series
are truly Pan-Arab when it comes to actors and settings; the
historical epics are dominated by Syrians, speaking in classical
Arabic. In two recent contemporary shows with characters from
different Arab countries, actors spoke a stilted, uniform classical
Arabic, while in another, each character spoke the colloquial
dialect of his or her country.
6. Media
and the internet have mentioned political controversies over
anti-Jewish or anti-Zionist shows and Turkey’s outrage
over a Syrian show mentioning the Armenian Genocide, and have
noted non-political hits like the Egyptian show al-Hajj
Mitwally.
In the absence of reliable statistics, the media usually anoints
the successes, while professional critics, industry insiders,
and average viewers weigh in on what’s good or bad; Ramadan
musalsals are discussed for several months in the media
after the fasting ends.
7. The al-Aqsa
Intifada, Washington’s “war on terror” policies,
the Israeli siege of Yasir Arafat, and the US-led occupation
of Iraq, taking place each year in succession from 2000-2003,
were the key events in this downward spiral.
8. While
2000 can be taken as a marker of the regional-international
climate affecting television production, earlier controversies
due to shows about the Ottomans and French prompted Syrian authorities
to discourage the production of shows dealing with these eras.
With this avenue closed off, going back further in history or
dealing with the last few decades remained. Or perhaps making
something set between 1516-1946 that doesn’t focus on
occupation, like Sihr al-Sharq (Oriental Charm) (2000),
the Anwar Qawadiri-directed adaptation of the true story of
an Englishwoman who married an Arab tribesman in Syria in the
early 19th Century.
9. Besides
the sheer controversy involved in discussing the Prophet Muhammad,
making shows about the earliest golden (political) age of Islam
involve production drawbacks such as avoiding visual portrayals
of Muhammad and the first four “rightly-guided”
caliphs.
10. The
show’s title refers to the maidens in paradise who are
supposed to greet arriving martyrs. Anzur’s company produced
the show, reportedly with Saudi funding.
11. According
to directors and industry executives in the run-up to Ramadan
2005. See Marlin Dick, “Ramadan 2005: Rivalry and Controversy,”
Middle East Broadcasters Journal, Issue 3, September-October
2005.
12. However,
in the Syrian private production of ‘Umar Khayyam
(Suriya al-Duwaliyya, 2002) the controversial Assassin
leader Hasan al-Sabah is a principal character, played charismatically
by Fayiz Qazaq and sending fida’iyyun to their
deaths in an echo of Usama bin Laden, even if unintentional.
13. Mamduh
‘Adwan, al-Zeer Salim: al-batal bayn al-sira wal-tarikh
wal-bina’ al-drami (al-Zeer Salim: The Hero and the
Struggle, History, and Dramatic Construction) (Damascus: Qudmus
lil-Nashr wal-Tawzi’, 2002).
14. ‘Adwan,
al-Zeer Salim, pp. 9-10 on tribal complaints; pp. 9-10
and 56-61 on accusations of distorting the image of heroes;
p. 63 ff. on the “Jewish” character and avoiding
the Christian tribe issue; and p. 87 on criticism of excessive
crying.
15. 15.
Salah al-Din was a staunch Sunni who stamped out “disorder”
by Shi’a while ensuring that Egypt became and remained
Sunni after a few centuries of rule by the Ismaili Fatimids.
Although he took Jerusalem when it surrendered to his siege,
Salah al-Din’s state comprised only Egypt and Syria. After
his death, the Ayyubids experienced a fierce power struggle
and Salah al-Din’s sons were vanquished by his uncle and
his progeny; the entire dynasty lasted only for four true sultans
before being subsumed by the Mamelukes.
16. The
principal Khawarij leader spends much of his time repeating
“la hukm illa hukm allah,” (No rule except God’s),
which while accurate, fails to tell much viewers much about
who the Khawarij were, and why they did what they did.
17. In the
interview mentioned above, Muhammad ‘Aziziyya, who also
directed The Road to Kabul, acknowledged the controversial
character of the Khawarij and said he believed the show was
acceptable because they were not the principals in the series.
The Khawarij practiced “takfir,” or declaring
enemy Muslims to be apostates and deserving of death, a policy
of certain Sunni Islamist groups today.
18. Al-Hajjaj
does not find happiness, however, getting his comeuppance by
dying from a painful disease.
19. Nayif
Ma’ruf, al-khawarij fil-‘asr al-‘umawi:
nasha’atuhum, tarikhihum, ‘aqa’idihum, adabuhum
(The Khawarij in the Umayyad Era: Their Appearance, History,
Doctrine and Literature) (Beirut: Dar al-Tali’a, 1977),
pp. 166-67.
20. Pan-Arab
censorship “red lines” are not always in line with
state television guidelines; Egyptian actress Layla ‘Alwi
declared that she and Arab audiences who saw her recent show
Bint Min Shubra (Girl From Shubra) on private satellite
stations found nothing wrong with its discussion of current
Coptic-Muslim relations, even though Egyptian censors have blocked
it from being aired by state TV.
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