Films in Arabic and About the Arabs: What Can I Tell You?
In art and life the lines and memories and impressions blur. Was it a Disney animated show, decades before Aladdin, or some classic epic of Ben Hur or some war movie of Lawrence of Arabia, Omar Sharif or some exotic princess enchantress such as Shahrazad spinning her webs of fascinating narration into the Ali Baba desert night that elicited the feelings and romanticism of the desert? Was it a swashbuckling Lawrence Olivier black and white movie, even a silent picture, with scimitar swords and flaming arrows and tall minarets, or some other Arab film reel that entered our collective conscious from times gone past?
Flying carpets and magic lamps. Cruel kings and veiled women. Cartoon caricatures, with heroes and strong men, sinister bosses and knifing thieves and and bandits.
The desert, the cities, the pre-Arab Egyptian river reeds of Moses and his Hebrew sister, the World War Two Rat Patrol G.I. Joes slinging their machine guns in Northern Africa, perhaps Tunisia or Libya, fighting the Germanic northerners, or perhaps the across the near sea Italians a few generations ago.
Indiana Jones went into the ancient mapped out crypts and snake-infested buried treasure lairs in the dust and toil of Egypt, Stephen Spielberg crafting his tails of adventure and heroism. Us good guys fight the Nazis there, too.
Fiction and fantasy, film and story book.
Documentaries and news reports, Beirut in neighborhood battles, Baghdad under shock and awe fury, the bombing of Khadafy in Tripoli, the endless back and forth of the Holy Land.
Peter O'Toole waiting in endless minutes in the bright, hot, stultifying sands of Saudi Arabia, waiting, waiting, in classic Hollywood film time, for his Arab guest.
The desert. Its own realm. Its own world, surrounded by ancient rivers, and mountains, ports and seas, temples, mosques, and shadowy streets.
Arabs and the desert. Mecca and Medina, going north to Al-Aksa, Damascus, and the Land of the Two Rivers. Jinn and genie, sultan and mufti.
What films and shows have you seen? Were they recent war films about U.S. soldiers, snipers and bomb diffusers? Was it about intrepid American or Western spies and agents, targeting and accosting the normally bearded terrorists wreaking havoc on themselves and the world.
Chuck Norris, a Delta super fighter over the top American cliche, or Arnold, the Governator, battling the Muslim jihadi extremists with rockets and automatic weapons.
Perhaps the iterations of James Bond, especially Daniel Craig, took on the ever-present threat of nefarious Arab enemies.
Enemies. Friends. Partners, competitors. Us, them.
We share the world and its players, the oil and the pearls, the former slaves and empires, the music and the lore, the legends, holy books and figures, the words and the prayers, anthems and banners and religious leaders and politicians and freedom fighters and all of them...
Arabs, and the rest of us.
Yes, the camels, the ululating women, the towels and scarves, the herbs and spices, all the stereotypes and common imaginings, the smells, or odors, that some of us associate. The bazaars, the rugs, the fragrances. Yes, the aromas of the Middle East.
The images and connotations. The gatherings, summits, sermons, dancing, orchestral and small group performances. The Arabs.
Where have you seen them before? Where will you see them again?
From Morocco to Iraq, Oman to Syria, the lands, marshes, mountains, and coasts of the Arabs will ensnare or entrap you, liberate or enliven you.
Enjoy. Istamta'.
Forsa saida, ikhwan wa ikhwati. (Happy or fortuitous moment, brothers and sisters.)
What do you know? What have you experienced, with the Arabs of North Africa, the Levant, the Saudi Peninsula or into the upward reaches of the Tigris and Euphrates? What have you seen and known?
