by Kristan Culbert

Despite production largely being restricted by oppressive governments and unstable filming conditions, a new movement appears to be gaining momentum in the Middle East. “There are plenty of up-and-coming filmmakers [in Palestine], but it feels as if they are noteworthy because they are Palestinian, [which] is controversial,” explains Amanda Georges, a junior double majoring in critical studies and print journalism. Films like Persepolis and Paradise Now—both recently screened at USC—are Iran and Palestine’s answer to Hollywoodian stereotypes of the region. In the midst of violence, Lebanon and Iran have a blossoming art scene: the underground art movement appears to be keeping Middle Eastern films alive.

Alex Shams, a junior majoring in international relations and co-president of Students for Justice in Palestine, compared the flourishing art culture to the art scene in Prague during Soviet rule. “Oppression breeds creativity. The art scene in Prague is still wonderful, but it was still more vibrant under the Soviets,” noted Shams.

Courtesy of Kristan Culbert

The idea seems counterintuitive. Typically, artists are constantly challenging the constraints of whatever system they’ve been subject to, pushing the boundaries of their freedoms to expression and unregulated speech. Enthusiastically embracing pro-federalist ideals under the watchful eyes of especially oppressive leaders like Kim Jong-Il is pretty atypical art fare. Historically speaking, it has been especially trendy for rulers to use art to accomplish certain goals. Pharaohs asserted their assumed immortality by insisting on building gigantic tombs instead of requesting that their ashes be spread along the Nile. Many a Roman senator requested that their sculptors gave their marble were gratuitous with the facial hair and wrinkles to make themselves appear particularly wizened while their wives looked as wrinkle-free as possible. In every painting that he is in, Napoleon is about six feet tall. If a ruler screwed up during their reign, their art—their stronghold on immortality—was essentially erased from history. Amenhotep IV, who ruled Egypt between 1350 and 1330 BCE, made the mistake of trying to sell monotheism to the Egyptians and earned himself the honorary title of “The Enemy”. Unfortunately, Nefertiti was not able to talk any sense into him, and his predecessors decided to recycle his incredible monuments as building materials for their own temples.

The rise of contemporary art in the Middle East is best compared to the celebrated Shakespearean sonnet. At first glance, sonnets appear to be pretty cliché, and usually invoke images of scenes pulled from sappy romance novels. But, with further examination, the sonnet clearly distinguishes itself as an art form. The restrictions on its meter and a simple rhyme scheme give sonnets a musical quality that has been immortalized many times over. In the same way, each successful body of artwork being produced in the Middle East is merely part of a poem tightly bound to the laws (or lack of) of society. Instead of completely choking off the flow of new ideas, censorship gives way to ingenuity. The rules of oppressive regimes are as strict as iambic pentameter, and the results are just as poetic. Inevitably, art is a bridge over troubled water.

Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) is hosting the university’s first Middle Eastern film festival. The festival, which started on April 1, will continue screening award-winning films in Leavey Auditorium at 6 p.m. every Wednesday until April 29. Admission is free and open to all. USC’s Levan Institute hosted a March 24 screening of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, which was followed by a book signing and discussion with Firoozeh Dumas about her best-selling memoir Laughing With an Accent.