Articles

The Local Otherness: Theatre Houses in the United Arab Emirates

The Local Otherness: Theatre Houses in the
United Arab Emirates 
By Ziad Adwan
Arab Stages, Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016)
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Abstract

This article examines the function of theatre houses in the United Arab Emirates. The article attempts to give answers to several theatrical controversies in UAE; such as why theatre, as an institution, has not developed in the same way other sectors has developed in the emirates? And what does theatre mean to the sheiks and the ruling classes? It is argued that theatre, as an activity and a building, is one of the rare venues that function to preserve the local identity.

Writings on theatre in UAE normally adopt historical and chorological approaches. The article adopts a geographical approach in order to relate theatre houses to the cities they are built in, and to relate theatre movements in the UAE to its bordering countries in the Arab Peninsula and to the ideologies in the Arabic speaking countries.

It is concluded that theatre in UAE is firmly associated with tradition, folklore and heritage. This association seeks to harmonise theatre with local culture and to correspond to Arabic ideologies that aim to authenticate theatre in the Arab culture.

Introduction[1]

In 2014, Al-Sharjah was named the Islamic Cultural Capital. Among the many edifices Al-Sharjah built for the event, Al-Majaz Island Project was constructed; a 7238 square meter open-air Roman-style amphitheatre that seats up to 4500, with several terraced seating areas. The project cost 120 million Emirati Dirham (32.7 million US Dollars). The complex was built in Khaled’s Lake, forming a small island inside the lake; with one bridge that connectes the city to the island. Up to now, the interior and the exterior have been completed but the surrounding of the amphitheatre is still under construction, with plans to build shops and parks.

The official launch took place on 26 March 2014 in the presence of Sheikh Sultan Al Qasimi; the ruler of the Sharjah emirate, a member of the Supreme Council of the United Arab Emirates, Chairman of the Executive Committee for the Sharjah Capital of Islamic Culture 2014 – and a playwright. The opening production was Cluster of Light, a play that narrates the emergence of Islam. The production utilized more than 300 actors and more than 700 dancers and musicians from across the globe.  The website of Sharjah Islamic Culture Capital and press coverage call Clusters of Light a theatrical artwork. Clusters of Light was based on poems written by Abdul Rahman Ashmawi, and was performed by major Arab singers. The event did not include actors, in the sense of role playing; therefore the terminology Oratorio was used in other

A few days after the opening, the administration of the Al-Majaz Island Project found out that the amphitheatre was missing green rooms. The mistake was quickly repaired and, in less than six months, the amphitheatre was on restructured with green rooms.  Leaving the amphitheatre without green rooms is not the only controversy raised by the Al-Majaz Island Project. Instead of building an edifice with Islamic features to celebrate Al-Sharjah as the Islamic culture capital, a Roman style amphitheatre was chosen. This was particularly troubling in view of the fact that most of the theatre houses in the UAE contain Islamic and Arabic features, but here, when a particularly Islamic event was presented, a Roman-style amphitheatre was created for it. Even more problematic was the selection of theatre to open an Islamic culture year in a ountry that did not witness any theatre activity before the second half of the twentieth century, and where theatre remains a distinctly minor and in the eyes of many, suspect form.

Al-Majaz Island Project. Source: Private collection of the author.

The presence of Sultan Al-Qasimi might be one of the answers to the above questions. The ruler of Al-Sharjah is a playwright and his name is associated with theatre in Al-Sharjah. Most of the theatre activities, festivals and theatre policies take place under his patronage. His enthusiasm encourages the theatrical scene in Al-Sharjah to the extent that it has become the self-proclaimed cultural centre of the UAE and, perhaps, the most recognised theatre city, not only in the emirates, but also in the whole Arabian Peninsula.[2]

Saying that Al-Qasimi ‘loves’ theatre does not mean that the other Emirati sheiks ‘hate’ theatre. Several theatres have been built in Abu Dhabi and Dubai andin  the rest of the Emirates. Up til now, theatre activities seem reluctant to “conquer the world” in the the words of Alamira Reem Bani Hashim, Clara Irazábal and Greta Byrum in their article The Scheherazade Syndrome (2010).[3]  Several activities have developed in the Emirates; news agencies, banks, cinema festivals and other services and artistic activities have fan important position, but theatre has not flourished therened locally and internationally in the same way.

In this paper, I shall discuss the presence of theatre in the UAE and argue that in cities that celebrate world record tallest buildings, biggest edifices and most expensive constructions, theatre buildings serve as institutions that preserve local identity. The outcome of city planning in the Emirates is a mosaic of different fabrics, where buildings and districts do not reflect the local identity. Among this chaos of architectural designs, the only institutions that reflect the local identity are mosques, some governmental buildings and theatres. The attempt of this paper is to explore questions such as; why do sheikhs, the only decision makers in the UAE, decide to build theatre at the first place? What does theatre mean to the ruling class? Is it to prove modernity or to protect identity? Why has not theatre progressed like all other sectors in the UAE?

Scholars and historians disagree on the date of the first play to be staged in the UAE. Some state that the first play was (طول عمرك وأشبع طماشة Tool Omrak wa Ashbe’e Tamasha), which was presented at the Omani Club in Al-Sharjah in 1958. Abdul Ilah Abdul Qader claims that theatre was introduced in the UAE when the Iraqi theatre maker Watheq Al-Samira’i presented For my Son (من أجل ولدي Men Ajel Waladi) in 1963. Barbara Michalak-Pikulska states in Theatre in the United Arab Emirates that ‘the play by the Egyptian Maḥmūd Ġunaym Al-Murū’a al-muqni‘a (“Sufficient Chivalry”) staged in 1955 is considered the beginning of the theatre movement in the UAE. The first text to be written by an Emirate writer, by Sulṭān Ibn Muḥammad al-Qāsimī is the play entitled Nihāyat Ṣahyūn (“The End of Zion”, 1958)’.[4]

Several writings on theatre in the UAE adopt chronological introductions of the emergence of theatre in late 1950s and its development up to date. Not having obtained definitve answers to the above questions, I will consider instead the geographical factors that have influenced theatre in the UAE. These influences are significant on two levels; the first deals with the location of purpose-built theatre houses in the new born cities. The second deals with the location of the UAE in the Arab Peninsula, and the ideologies that influence not only theatre in the emirates but also the meaning of theatre to the sheikhs who are the main decision makers in the state.

The Misplaced Position of Theatre in the UAE

In the second half of the twentieth century, oil was discovered in the Arabian Peninsula and the UAE oil reserves became recognized as the seventh largest in the world. 1971 witnessed the unification of the emirates and Sheikh Zayed became the first president of the state. Education, infrastructure and modernity were the main goals Sheikh Zayed aimed for, to establish a country that would become a worldwide destination. Shortly afterwards, Dubai became an international trade and commerce center and the UAE became one of the most rapidly urbanising regions in the world. In contrast, theatre has not developed with the same swiftness and theatre institutions are the least attractive among cultural and artistic activities. Although many theatres were built and many festivals have been organised, theatre activities go largely unnoticed by many locals, international tourists, theatre-goers and academic researchers.

International scholars, even those with an interest in Arab theatre, do not seem to notice the existence of theatre in the UAE and the Gulf in general. Arabic literature, journalism and academic writings tend to degrade theatre and cultural movements in the Gulf, considering the Gulf States spoiled countries with shallow cultural significance. Local writings, published in the Emirates, on the other hand, normally praise the theatre movement in the UAE and celebrate Al-Sharjah for becoming a theatrical center in the Arab Peninsula.

One step to encourage theatre popularity in the UAE has been running theatre festivals. The number of theatre festivals in the Emirates, which almost cover all seasons of the year, would leave even an avid theatre goer flabbergasted. Yet, in comparison to other art festivals in the UAE, such as Dubai film festivals, art biennales in Sharjah and Dubai, and music concerts, theatre festivals are still unnoticeable on the international theatre map. They are also considered the least important in comparison to other theatre festivals in the Arabic-speaking countries. In Theatre Festivals in the Arab World (2007) Marvin Carlson lists the major theatre festivals in the Arab region, and in the end of his study he mentions the Gulf only in the passing. Carlson divides the Arab speaking countries into three theatrical regions; the Middle East and Egypt which he considers the theatrical center of the Arab world, North Africa which is still under the French influence, and the Gulf states which are ‘strongly committed to traditional religion both in their culture and their governments and generally deeply suspicious of external, especially Western influence, which of course includes European-style theatre’.[5] Although he prioritises Al-Sharjah as being the prominent city of theatre in the Gulf, Carlson ranks the Gulf festivals as the least important in the Arab theatre world.

The Iraqi writer Abdul Ilah Abdul Qader, who works as a theatre director and has been serving as a cultural administrator in several cultural institutions in the UAE, has written several books on Emirati theatre. Thse large and luxurious and books seek to elevate respect for theatre experience in the Emirates. The History of Theatre Movement in the United Arab Emirates 1960- 1986 (2007) covers more than 300 pages and The National Theatre in Al-Sharjah in Two Decades 1975-1995 covers 240 pages. Giving the same information and repeating the same complements, the two books adopt a chronological narration of the emergence of theatre in the UAE in late 1950s and give a wide-ranging archive of Emirati playwrights, directors, actors, companies and festivals.

The brief international mentions and the luxurious local books do not give answers to important controversial topics in the Emirati theatre scene; has theatre contributed in the modernisation processes aimed by Sheikh Zayed and the ruling families? Why does he run of any play not exceed three days? Why is theatre free, when all other activities in the Emirates are costly? Why has theatre not developed like all spectacular activities in the UAE? Why does theatre not join the fancy Guinness Record edifices in the UAE? Why, among all the non-native edifices, have theatre buildings, in particular, emphasised local characteristics in their architecture, plans and activities?

Using chronological and historical methodologies might portray a picture of the emergence of theatre and the development of theatre institutions in UAE. But seeking to analyse the complicated controversies around Emirati theatre requires geographical approaches, in terms of examining the chosen physical location of theatres in the Emirati cityscapes, and the location of the UAE in the Arabic Peninsula and the “Arab World.” This examination would help one to understand the position of theatre in the UAE and its cultural role in the new cities, specifically in the major cities of Abu Dhabi, Dubai and Al-Sharjah. In the following, I will provide a description of theatre houses in the UAE and argue that theatre has not functioned in the modernisation process, but, on the contrary, it has contributed to preserving local identity, to the extent that some theatre venues contribute to “a throwback to an ‘Orient’ that is no longer possible elsewhere.”[6] Yet, the Orientalist representation of the self is not intended to attract international theatre goers, but rather it seeks to harmonise with theatre movements and ideologies conceived in the Arabic-speaking countries.

The Emiratis, being a minority in their own country, are challenged by a dilemma: how to control public spaces, in terms of balancing between the modernisation process and the local identity? In a hot country such as the UAE, outdoor activities are limited to a few options. Shopping malls are the main gathering places but are controlled by structures of commoditization and consumption. Cinemas are mainly located in malls and firmly bounded to blockbuster distribution and commercialism. Sports have a long tradition of being the main socialising spaces before the discovery of oil. Notably, plays between late 1950s and early 1970s were presented in football clubs.

Several Emiratis combine traditional clothing with western education and openness to other languages, specifically the English language. This equilibrium becomes unbalanced in the context of theatre, where the oriental representation of the self becomes the norm. Branches of universities, such as the Sorbonne and NYU, branches of museums such as the Louvre, branches of movie theatres, including 3d, 4d and 6d, and a branch of New York Film Academy have all opened and successfully functioned in the UAE. To a certain extent, every institution in the UAE has its twin in Europe and North America, but theatre institutions did not adopt an international twin model. Organizers of cinema festivals and art biennales are bilingual and their publications are in Arabic and English, targeting international artists. In contrast, English is barely heard at the Emirati theatre institutions, and the media library at the Al-Sharjah National Theatre, for instance, does not have any filmed international play or a play printed in another language other than Arabic.

The topic of identity in the “Arab world” in relation to theatre is the main issue raised by Don Rubin in The World Encyclopedia of Contemporary Theatre: The Arab world. Rubin opens his coverage of theatre in the Arab world with the question of the relationship between Arabs and Islam. He refers to a friendly discussion with Richard Schechner on whether there is something called the “Arab world; and whether it is justified to edit a theatre volume for the ‘Arab world’.” The conclusion, according to Rubin, is that “the Arab World” is an entity that deserves a volume, and these countries present similar approaches towards national identity, Islam and theatre.

According to Don Rubin in his coverage of theatre in the UAE, “only some 20 per cent of the country’s population are currently from the UAE, with less than half the total population actually of Arabic descent […] the population has remained overwhelmingly Muslim (96 per cent).” Arabic is the formal language, but it is not the mostly used one. English is the most spoken in business and working places and Urdu is the most heard on the streets. This mosaic of languages could be associated with the missing identity of the city planning and the cityscapes, but it generates another dilemma for theatre; i.e. in which language should a play be presented? Hence, the question of the role of theatre as a public space that preserves local identity becomes problematic, since a play misses a high percentage of its potential audience when it is performed in any language. Although most of the theatres are huge with big stages and auditoriums, the building signs and the surroundings of theatre houses construct a traditional and conservative image of theatre. Theatre, in this context, becomes a closed space for certain groups, who are mainly Arabic speakers.

Abu Dhabi, the capital, has two theatres; the Abu Dhabi National Theatre, and the Abu Dhabi Theatre. The Abu Dhabi National Theatre, which was established in 1981, is a proscenium theatre that seats 2246. It also contains a lecture and a conference hall (for the VIPs) that seats 150 and, a multi-purpose hall and two exhibition halls that host painting and sculpture exhibitions. It also contains Islamic arches and other “oriental” ornaments. The venue rarely presents plays, and when a play is shown it does not last for more than a couple of days. The Abu Dhabi National Theatre is located in the centre of Abu Dhabi, and is surrounded by a complex of media institutions such as SKY News and the New York Film Academy.

The Abu Dhabi Theatre, which was opened in 2007, is a highly equipped proscenium theatre that seats 530. Visiting the theatre during the working hours, one will find only a receptionist and the director of the theatre. The theatre rarely presents plays, and most of the activities are run by embassies in Abu Dhabi, showing traditional and classical music concerts and some lectures. The white theatre looks like a mosque in terms of using a dome for roofing. It also features “oriental” ornaments. It is located in thre Emirates Heritage Club, which is a big complex that exhibits small and traditional aspects of the Emirates, i.e. houses made of mud, huts and old sidewalks.

Abu Dhabi Theatre. Source: Private collection of the author.

Although there are more theatre houses in Dubai, actual theatre activities remain scarce. The Scientific Association and Community Theatre (ندوة الثقافة والعلوم) was initiated in 1987, when several intellectuals met with Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum to propose the idea and to get his “permission.” The idea was approved and a decree was issued in the same year to found the institution. The administration requested that the architects should ensure that the building(s) would preserve the local heritage. The theatre is located in Al-Mamzar district at the edge of the city of Dubai. The exterior of the building has the shape of a palace with Arabic and Islamic details that resemble the architectural style of Andalusia.[7] According to its website, the design of this cultural complex combines “desert architecture” with the latest geometric theories to conclude “a livable architectural trinity that fuses Islamic civilisation, desert civilisation and the latest of the scientific revolution.”[8] The complex also features arabesque and Arabic engravings of verses from the Quran, Al-Hadith and classical Arabic poetry.

The complex contains a theatre, called Al-Nadwa. The theatre occupies the biggest space in the complex and it seats 1000. It hosts plays, music concerts, folklore shows, conferences and school and university graduation ceremonies. Next to the theatre are a multi-purpose hall and a VIP hall to receive sheikhs and members of high society with a special entrance for them. The venue hosts the Dubai Festival for Youth Theatre; the only theatre festival in Dubai.

The Dubai Folklore Society is located in Al-Mamzar too, but it is a small venue in comparison to other theatre buildings. The building has two signboards; the text of the first signboard reads: (مسرح جمعية دبي للفنون; literally, Dubai Association for Arts Theatre). The second signboard reads: (جمعية دبي للفنون الشعبية; literally, Dubai Folklore Society). The word theatre appears on one of the signboards but it reflects the tendency to associate theatre with tradition and folklore.

The Madinat Theatre is a venue situated in the luxurious five-star Madinat Jumeirah Resort, which is the largest resort in the Emirates. It spreads across over 100 acres. The floors are made of marble and the interior contains grand columns. According to its website, Madinat Jumeirah was “designed to resemble a traditional Arabian town.”[9] The theatre hosts entertainments including musicals, stand-up comedies, ballets and film screenings.

The Dubai Community Theatre and Arts Center is located inside the Mall of the Emirates. The center consists of a proscenium stage that seats 543, three rehearsal rooms for dance and ballet shows and the Kilachand Studio Theatre, which is an intimate theatre that seats 151. It has flexible seats and is used for small shows, seminars and experimental theatre and community productions. The Dubai Community Theatre and Arts Centre is the only theatre in the Emirates to present plays in English and Urdu.

Al-Fujairah organises the Al-Fujairah International Monodrama Festival; the only theatre festival in the UAE that is not limited to Arabic language. The festival does not take place at Al-Fujairah National Theatre, which was built in 1979 and seats 1500, but takes place at a smaller theatre, i.e. the Dibba Al Fujairah Theatre. The Dibba Al Fujairah Theatre has two proscenium theatres, the first seats 350 and the second seats 150. The white big theatre, founded in 1991, has two building signs written in Arabic and English; The upper one reads (جمعية دبا للثقافة والفنون والمسرح; literally, Dibba Society for Cultures, Arts and Theatre), the lower one reads (مسرح دبا الفجيرة ; literally Dibba Theatre in English). Unlike the other theatres in the Emirates, the exterior of this theatre, does not reflect Islamic or Arabic details but adopts a geometrical style with a glass facade.

The challenge of identity is less critical in Ras Al-Khaimah, Um Al-Quwain and Ajman, as these emirates have not become international centers like Dubai and Abu Dhabi. The Emirates of Ras Al-Khaimah, Um Al-Quwain, and Ajman have fewer and smaller theatres. A national theatre is located, though, in each of these Emirates. The three national theatres are simple in their designs and activities but they still have VIP halls. They feature pictures of the Emirati sheiks, an element that is less apparent in the other theatres in Abu Dhabi, Dubai and Al-Sharjah. These stages are poorly equipped and the theatres are all small ones. The facades are poor in their decorations and they feature less Islamic and Arabic details. At  preent, the surroundings of these theatres are still under construction, with dust and sand covering both bypassers and the parking spaces.

Ras Al-Khaimah National Theatre. Source: Private collection of the author.

To a certain degree, and apart from Al-Sharjah, the theatre scene in the above described venues is barely sensed. Theatres are normally empty, since the maximum run of a play is three nights. The Mamzar Theatre in Dubai is normally closed, but some theatre-makers gather for an hour in the theatre from time to time for socialising. Theatre houses tend to demonstrate local identity in their activities as well as in their design. Theatre institutions embrace Arabic language in activities as well as in administration offices. Most of the theatres do not have box offices and theatre activities are free.[10] Although they adopt the European proscenium stage design, theatre houses, in general, emphasise one model of exterior design; they feature Arabic mosaics and ornaments and some of them use domes for roofing. Most of them are located in heritage villages and traditional districts. Some building signs associate theatre with folklore and heritage indicating that theatre and tradition are one.

In The Semiotics of the Islamic Mosque, Roger Joseph argues that mosques in non-Arab Muslim countries, such as Turkey and Iran, tend to be massive and extravagant. It is a compensational attitude toward a religion that these countries believe in, even they do not share the language of the Qur’an. Joseph states that “the Qur’an has its centricity in Islam because it is literally the word of God; the mosque can never have this status since it is not created by God but rather by men. There can be no Persian or Turkish or Indonesian Qur’an, yet mosques created in these cultures all reflect parochial dispositions.’[11] Arguably, theatre buildings in the Emirates experience the same contradiction. The tendency to build massive edifices, with big auditoriums, shows a similar attitude to an art that is alien to the culture. The attempt is to compensate for the absence of a theatre tradition in the country by constructing a dazzling local image of the theatre house.

In Orientalism (1978) Edward Said argues that the Occident constructed several representations of the Orient that assisted in the process of “Othering” “the East” from “the West.” According to Said, the Occidental identity sets itself in contrast with the Orient. Following the same pattern, theatres in the UAE have constructed a representation that sets itself in contrast with the modern life in the Emirati. In contrast with eccentric modern buildings and skyscrapers, theatre houses are humble, and the architectural designs feature Islamic and Arabic decorations. In contrast with expensive activities, theatre events and festivals are generally made free. In contrast with the mixed languages found elsewhere, Arabic is the only spoken language used inside the theatres. Generally all theatres are located within newly-built folklore and heritage districts. Theatre, thus, is firmly associated with stereotypical characteristics to represent an image that any Orientalist “with unshakable abstract maxims about the ‘civilisation’ he had studied” will be pleased to see.[12]

The exotic self and the Orientalist representation of theatres in the UAE are not aimed to attract international tourists, world records and Western acknowledgment. In the following section, I will discuss the theatres in Al-Sharjah and link their practices to Arabic ideologies that aim to find Arabic elements in theatre, attempting to harmonise theatre with the local culture in the Arabic-speaking countries. The Arabisation of theatre houses in the UAE corresponds to a persistent Arabic discourse one might call the “Authentication of Theatre.”

Arabising Theatres in Al-Sharjah

Apart from the Al-Majaz Island Project, which is located inside a lake,[13] all the theatres in Al-Sharjah cling to Islamic and Arabic designs, adopting the other emirates’ approach to theatre. Al-Sharjah, which is known as the cultural centre in the UAE, is the most conservative and the strictest among the other Emirates. Westerners who reside in the UAE avoid living in Al-Sharjah to eschew conservative regulations, regarding an intolerance of bars, intimate couples, loose clothing, alcohol and shisha and so on. Thus, the question of identity is less problematic in Al-Sharjah, as most of the Al-Sharjah dwellers are Arabs and Muslims, and conservatism is unquestioned.

Correspondingly, taboos on social and political lives are applied to theatre, to the extent that men and women are not allowed to touch on stage, and not even shake hands. Certainly, other topics are untouchable such as the sheiks, immigrants, expats and Islam. These subjects are more tolerated in other media, such as cinema, fine arts, pop music, TV shows and soap operas. Among the artistic forms, which are all imported to the region in the past few decades, more severe restrictions are extended to theatre alone.

The National Theatre Company, which began in 1975 and was inaugurated in 1978, is located in the heart of Al-Sharjah district, or what is called The Heritage District. The district combines several cultural institutes such as, the theatre society, Al-Sharjah institute of theatre arts, the poetry house, Al-Sharjah institute of arts, Al Sharjah museum and some traditional sites with rural and Bedouin elements. The district hosts most of the theatre festivals in Al-Sharjah, as well as Al-Sharjah Biennale and March Meeting. The National Theatre building contains the offices of the company and does not have a purpose-built theatre. The company shows their productions on various stages in Al-Sharjah and the rest of the Emirates. Close to the national theatre company is the Theatrical Association, which is meeting place for Emirati theatre makers.

Al-Sharjah Institute of Theatre Arts is also located in the heart of Al-Sharjah district. The institute is still not allowed to function as an academy, but it runs workshops and hosts plays and theatre festivals. The big white building features traditional and local architectural elements and has two proscenium theatres; the first seats 286 and the second seats 209.

Al-Qasba District has become one of the most attractive districts in Al-Sharjah since it was opened in 2005. In addition to Al-Qasba Theatre, Al Qasba District includes Maraya Art Centre, halls to host entrepreneurial business activities and conferences, shops, walking paths, cafes and boats that sail within the complex. Al-Qasba Theatre is a proscenium theatre that seats 250 and is well-equipped but does not have dressing rooms. It won the LEAF Award in 2012 in the refurbishment category.

The most celebrated theatre venue in Al-Sharjah is the Culture Palace, which is a large and well-equipped theatre that seats 670. It has also a lecture hall that seats 134 and two VIP halls. The white theatre has a dome above and features Arabic and Islamic details. It was officially opened in March 1987 in the presence of Sultan Al-Qasimi, the ruler of Al-Sharjah, and it has hosted several theatre festivals. In 1998, before Al-Qasimi’s play (عودة هولاكو; literally, Hulagu’s Return) was presented, the stage and the theatre were renovated. The stage was expanded, and the theatre was provided with more decorations that inspired by Arabic and Islamic architecture and was rechristened The Culture Palace on 27 March 2000.[14] In addition to plays and theatre festivals, the venue hosts conferences and other cultural activities.

The Culture Palace is located at Dawar Al-Kitab (The Book Square). In the Arabic language, the word ‘The Book’ refers mainly to the holy Qur’an. The pillar in the middle of Dawar Al-Kitab is a big monument of an open Qur’an. It is about seven meters long and each opened page is 4.2×2.4 meters. Around the square stand other cultural and significant buildings; Al-Sharjah Library, The Department of Culture and Information, and the office of the ruler of Al Sharjah Sheikh Sultan Al-Qasimi.

Many articles on Emirati theatres have claimed that the Ministry of Culture is in charge of building theatres and facilitating theatre activities, groups and festivals. Marvin Carlson, for example, notes that ‘the ministries of Education and of Youth […] had theatre divisions within them, and these three ministries have continued to be the main support for theatre activities in the Emirates’.[15] Also, Barbara Michalak-Pikulska indicates in Theatre in the United Arab Emirates that ‘the ministry of culture lavished financial support on the numerous theatre groups that were coming into being’.[16]

Through interviews I conducted in UAE, I was informed that theatre institutions are in fact not related to the Ministry of Culture. Each theatre gets its subsidy and policy from the government of the emirate it is founded in.[17] When theatre in Al-Sharjah is mentioned, it is generally associated with the ruler of Al-Sharjah, Sultan Al-Qasimi and the ruling family. Sheikha Bodour daughter of Sultan bin Al Qasimi is the Chairperson of the Sharjah Investment and Development Authority (Shurooq) the company that initiated Al-Qasba District and Al-Qasba Theatre. Sheikh Sultan Bin Ahmed Al Qasimi, not to be confused with the ruler of Al-Sharjah Sheikh Sultan bin Muhammad Al-Qasimi, is the chairman of Sharjah Media Centre, the company that founded Al-Majaz Island Project.

Historically, cultural venues have always been the respnsibility of wealthy families, rather than the responsibility of the government or the community in the Emirates. Before oil was discovered in the region, wealthy families took the responsibility of planning, establishing and covering the expenses of cultural and educational venues. This commitment was not only a duty, but it was also considered an honor (Kamel Yosuf Hussain, 2010: 26).

Theatre houses followed the same treatment and became the responsibility of the ruling classes. Most of the theatres in the UAE have VIP halls to host sheikhs and top officials. On many occasions, small elegant tables are positioned in the auditoriums in front of the first row, that is always reserved for the sheiks and the VIPs.

Sultan Al-Qasimi is normally mentioned as the ruler and the playwright who “loves theatre” and whose personal passion for theatre has assisted in encouraging this art in Al-Sharjah. Al-Qasimi’s personal admiration of the art of the theatre appeared when he was a student at school. Al-Qasimi wrote and acted in The End of Zion in 1958 at The People’s Club for Sport and Culture.[18] The play provoked the British mandate, as it criticised Zionism in occupied Palestine and called for Arab unification to resist British colonization. The play and the venue were closed. The impact of this experience emphasised the role of theatre as a political forum that can promote political and national discourses.

Al-Qasimi’s engagement in theatre did not cease. He wrote plays and articles on theatre and ordered the establishment of many theatre institutions in Al-Sharja. Al-Qasimi was chosen to give the World Theatre Day speech on 27 March 2007. In his speech he refers to this anecdote, “I remember it was a political play that angered the authorities at the time. Everything was confiscated, and the theatre was closed before my very eyes. But the spirit of the theatre could not be crushed by the heavy boots of the armed soldiers […] I became absolutely convinced of what the theatre can do in the lives of nations, particularly in the face of those who cannot tolerate opposition or differences of opinion.”[19]

This standpoint in is close accord with  several Arabic theatre manifestos and ideologies that coined the two terms “Authenticating Theatre” and “The Theatre of Politizisation.” Yusuf Idris’s Towards an Egyptian Theatre (1974), Abdel Al-Karim Burshid’s The Foundation and the Modernisation of the Modern Currents in the Arab Theatre (2014) and Sa’dallah Wanous’s Manifestos for a New Arab Theatre (1970) have influenced theatre in many Arabic-speaking countries, and consequently influenced the Emirati theatre.

The main, and perhaps the only theatrical source of influence on the Emirati theatre, has come from other Arabic-speaking countries. Not having a theatre education, most of the Emeriti theatre-makers received their training in Kuwait and Egypt. In addition, many Arab theatre makers have visited the UAE and given workshops, performed plays and inspired the initiation of theatre institutions there. The UAE and Al-Sharjah specifically  have become an Arabic theatre centre and a platform where many Arab theatre makers meet and interact. In addition, the publications and the translations of international plays and academic books have enriched the Arabic theatre library, continuing the project that Kuwait used to carry out in the 1970s, -80s, and -90s. Theatre in the UAE, therefore, has not orientalized itself to attract the view of an “Other,” but rather has sought to harmonize with theatre movements and politics in the Arabic speaking countries. The harmonizing processes to authenticate theatre has been extended to the exterior design of theatre houses and the theatre activities within them.[20]

Sa’dallah Wanous argues in (بيانات لمسرح عربي جديد; literally, Manifestos for a New Arab Theatre) that theatre in the Arabic-speaking countries should achieve what he called (politicization التسييس). He divides this process into two parts; the first is ideological,  that concerns the interrelations between the values of the presented plays and the values of the changing societies. The second is the artistic level, which seeks to find the forms by which theatre can communicate with the new and targeted audience(s). Wanous states that he considers the manifestos as “assumptions in search of authentic theatre, which comprehends its role in its environment, and attempts to understand this role.”.[21] However, Wanous’s criticism of associating theatre with folklore does not seem to have been heeded in the Emirati cities with their mixed nationalities. Theatre in the Emirates emphasises the association with tradition, while simultaneously linking the Emirati theatre experience to Arabic theatre currents, theories and practices.

Proposing a geographical understanding of theatre in the UAE, I should refer to the point that the Arab peninsula is also an important influence. This geographical factor lessens the potential for the Emirati theatre to expand internationally. UAE borders with Qatar, Oman and Saudi Arabia. These countries are also to some extent “generally deeply suspicious of external, especially Western influence, which of course includes European-style theatre” as Marvin Carlson states.[22] Therefore, Emirati theatre festivals, for instance, cannot invite international companies, as the UAE will not be on the tour map of the international companies.

The harmony between Emirati theatres and Arab theatre makers does not leave the Arabization of Emirati theatre unquestioned. In a country where everything is new and where most of the institutions collaborate with international partners, theatre has chosen to associate itself with the Arabic culture. In The Scheherazade Syndrome (2010) Alamira Reem Bani Hashim, Clara Irazábal and Greta Byrum remark on the architecture in the emirates and its self- representation to the international world:

Throughout the last decade, Dubai has been shaping itself into the image of a ‘‘global city’’ via iconic architecture—seemingly on the theory that, if it looks like a global city, it will become one. This quest led to near complete economic collapse in late 2009, as the emirate’s debt challenged its leadership’s ability to sell the image of material extravagance and architectural ambition to a world suddenly wary of real estate speculation.[23]

This note is quite applicable to theatre but conversely. While all the institutions in the UAE are linked to international partners, theatre is linked to the Arabic culture; the culture that has always wondered about the uncertain position of theatre in its environment. Wanous states in his manifestos that the Arab culture has always debated theatre, always seen it in crisis and has always struggled to locate theatre in its environment since it appeared in the Arabic speaking countries in the middle of the nineteenth century.[24]

Consequently, the Emeriti theatre finds itself, to some extent, in the same dilemma of abstract definitions of theatre and its relation to the local environment and identity. This has led to a limited theatre experience in a country where its rulers can afford to do what they want, but kept many theatrical projects incomplete, as in the case of the Al-Majaz Island Project.  It has served as a venue to host famous pop stars and popular musicians like Yanni and Julio Iglesias, and yet the theatre venues are left empty, and the theatre institute there is still not functioning as an academy.

Conclusion

Except for mosques and some governmental institutions, theatre houses are the only buildings that reflect the local Arabic and Islamic identity in the UAE. In addition, theatre activities oppose the dominant commercial life style in the Emirati cities. Most theatres are made free and most of the plays are in Arabic.

Theatres in the UAE signify a complex model of representation. They are proscenium stages inside oriental-decorated buildings, located in heritage districts, in cities that have become cosmopolitan centres, in a region that is strictly conservative. To some extent, theatre activities as well as theatre buildings remain foreign to the ongoing life style in the UAE.

The contradictory nature of the theatre scene in Al-Sharjah, being the strictest city and the cultural centre at once, can best be resolved by the discourse of theatre and identity and the literature that attempts to authenticate theatre in the Arabic culture.

The UAE is one of the most rapidly changing countries in the world, culturally, demographically and economically. The argument of linking Emirati theatre to the local identity might lose validity in the coming years or decades. Dubai is currently constructing an opera house that is due to open in 2016. The Opera House, which will seat 2000, dispenses with the traditional design and adopts a modern architectural model. Cultural and social changes might enable theatre institutions to escape from the heritage districts that now enclose them, and might obtain a fluid future like the water surrounding Al-Majaz Island Project amphitheatre, the newest theatre house in the UAE so far.

Ziad Adwan is a theatre practitioner. He Received his PhD in Theatre Studies from the Royal Holloway, University of London. His thesis was on “Mistakes and Making Mistake in Cultural Representations”. He taught performance theory, system of rehearsals, and mask techniques at the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts in Damascus (2009-2013). Ziad has acted in several plays and films and directed theatre. He was the artistic director of Invisible Stories, a series of street theatre events that took place in different places in Damascus. Ziad is a partner at Tanween Theatre and Dance Company. His currently affiliated with the Global Theatre Histories research project at LMU Munich.

Notes and References

[1] Research for this article was conducted under the auspices of the research project ‘Global Theatre Histories’ funded by the German Research Society (DFG) at LMU Munich. PI: Christopher Balme.

[2] Many Emirati officials refer to the point that Abu Dhabi is the official capital of the UAE, while Dubai is considered the economic capital. Al-Sharjah is considered the cultural capital.

[3] Irazábal Clara, Greta Byrum and Alamira Reem Bani Hashim. “The Scheherazade Syndrome.” Architectural Theory Review 15.2 (2010): 210-231.

[4] Michalak-Pikulska, Barbara. “Theatre in the United Arab Emirates.” ROCZNIK ORIENTALISTYCZNY, T. LXV, Z, 2 (2012): 13-20.

[5] Carlson, Marvin. “Theatre Festivals in the Arab World.” Contemporary Theatre Review 13.4 (2003): 42-47.

[6] Kanna, Ahmed. Dubai, the City as Corporation  (USA: Regents of the University of Minnesota, 2011): 3.

[7] http://nadwa.org/arabic/index.php/slideshows <19 January 2016>

[8] http://nadwa.org/arabic/index.php/slideshows <19 January 2016>

[9] http://www.emirates247.com/news/emirates/revealed-how-dubai-s-dh2-5bn-new-madinat-jumeirah-will-look-2014-02-09-1.537597 <19 January 2016>

[10] On some occasions, plays are made payable for kids in another step to teach them aspects of theatre traditions.

[11] Joseph, Roger. “The Semiotics of the Islamic Mosque.” Arab Studies Quarterly 3.3 (Summer 1981):  285-295.

[12] Said, Edward. Orientalism. London: Penguin Books, 1978: 52.

[13] Al-Majaz Island Project is described in the introduction of this paper.

[14] http://www.sdci.gov.ae/qaser.html <19 January 2016>

[15] Carlson, Marvin. “Theatre Festivals in the Arab World.” Contemporary Theatre Review 13.4 (2003): 42-47.

[16] Michalak-Pikulska, Barbara. “Theatre in the United Arab Emirates.” ROCZNIK ORIENTALISTYCZNY, T. LXV, Z, 2 (2012): 13-20.

[17] I made these interviews when I visited UAE between 5-15 Nov 2015. I interviewed several theatre officials and theatre makers, and then continued these interviews electronically.

[18] Al-Qasimi tells this anecdote in his book ‘Narrating the Self: سرد الذات’ and dates it in 1963. Other references note that it took place at a school run by the British mandate in Al-Sharjah in 1958. The play is called in some references and diaries Wokala’a Sahyun (وكلاء صهيون; literally, Zion’s Agents).

[19] http://www.world-theatre-day.org/en/picts/WTD_Qasimi_2007.pdf <19 January 2016>

[20] Having tickets for free is not only a step to encourage locals to visit theatre, but it is also a reflection of another Arabic prejudice; i.e. generosity. Generosity is recognised as one of the most characteristics, shown in Arabic literature and old poetry. On some occasion theatres offer free food and soft drinks after staging certain plays or during festivals. notably, most of the theatres do not have cafes, but, having said so, this does not mean that they will not install cafes inside or around the theatre building.

[21] Wanous, Sa’dallah. (Manifestos for a New Arabic Theatre.) بيانات لمسرح عربي جديد. Damascus: Al-Ahali, 1996, 17.

[22] Carlson, Marvin. “Theatre Festivals in the Arab World.” Contemporary Theatre Review 13.4 (2003): 42-47.

[23] Irazábal Clara, Greta Byrum and Alamira Reem Bani Hashim. “The Scheherazade Syndrome.” Architectural Theory Review 15.2 (2010): 210-231.

[24] Wanous, Sa’dallah. (Manifestos for a New Arabic Theatre.) بيانات لمسرح عربي جديد. Damascus: Al-Ahali, 1996, p. 51.


Logo_Publications

Arab Stages
Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016)
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Founders: Marvin Carlson and Frank Hentschker

Editor-in-Chief: Marvin Carlson

Editorial and Advisory Board: Fawzia Afzal-Khan, Dina Amin, Khalid Amine, Hazem Azmy, Dalia Basiouny, Katherine Donovan, Masud Hamdan, Sameh Hanna, Rolf C. Hemke, Katherine Hennessey, Areeg Ibrahim, Jamil Khoury, Dominika Laster, Margaret Litvin, Rebekah Maggor, Safi Mahfouz, Robert Myers, Michael Malek Naijar, Hala Nassar, George Potter, Juan Recondo, Nada Saab, Asaad Al-Saleh, Torange Yeghiazarian, Edward Ziter.

Managing Editor: Meir A. Farjoun

Assistant Managing Editor: Nina Angela Mercer

Table of Content
Essays

  • Khalid Amine & Marvin Carlson – Tayeb Saddiki and the Re-invention of Tradition in Contemporary Moroccan Theatre: An Obituary
  • Ziad Adwan – The Local Otherness: Theatre Houses in the United Arab Emirates
  • Michael Malek Najjar – Yussef El Guindi’s Arab Spring – Revolutions, Upheavals, and Critical Critiques
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced
  • Jamil Khoury – Parsing Disgraced: An Assault, A Critique, and A Truce
  • Chloë Edmonson – Body Politics in Adham Hafez Company’s 2065 BC
  • Joachim Ben Yakoub & Fida Hammami – A Counterpoint Reading of the Moussem Cities@Tunis Festival

Reviews

  • Marvin Carlson & Philippa Wehle – The Last Supper by Ahmed El Attar
  • Margaret Litvin – Arab Angst on Swedish Stages
  • Heather Denyer – Heather Raffo’s Noura in Progress
  • Sarah Moawad – Two Egyptian Playwrights in Boston: Hany Abdel Naser’s They Say Dancing is a Sin and Yasmeen Emam’s The Mirror
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Michael Najjar’s direction of Scorched by Wajdi Mouawad
  • Michael Malek Najjar – AB: Beit Byout by Tahweel Ensemble Theatre in Beiruth
  • Safi Mahmoud Mahfouz –Review of Four Arab Hamlet Plays by Marvin Carlson & Margaret Litvin (eds.)

Short Plays

  • Hamed Almaliki – The Cart
  • Ali Abdulnebbi Al Zaidi – Rubbish
Also posted in Essays, Volume 4 | Leave a comment

Parsing Disgraced : An Assault, A Critique, and A Truce

Ayad Akhtar’s “Disgraced”, directed by Michael Najjar.
Parsing Disgraced: An Assault, A Critique, and A Truce 
By Jamil Khoury 
Arab Stages, Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016) 
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publication

The staff at Silk Road Rising crafted a set of questions for me about Ayad Akhtar’s play Disgraced. I found them immensely cathartic to answer. Many of the ideas and opinions expressed below will be elaborated and integrated in a forthcoming larger piece that I’ve been developing with South Asian American scholars Fawzia Afzal-Khan and Neilesh Bose.

It’s worth noting that I have now seen Disgraced twice: the first time in February 2012 during its World Premiere run at Chicago’s American Theater Company and the second time in October 2015 at Chicago’s Goodman Theatre. I’ve also read the play in its published version. Over the course of the two viewings, my initial condemnation of the play has given place to a more complicated and nuanced view of it, a process which is explored in the course of the following interview.

Jamil Khoury, November 2015.

Question: You first encountered Ayad Akhtar’s play Disgraced in its World Premiere production at Chicago’s American Theater Company in 2012. It was an experience you’ve described as being “deeply disturbing.” What exactly transpired?

We attended a Saturday matinee. If I remember correctly, it was a full house. After the performance, my husband Malik, who was the only visibly brown person in an otherwise all-white audience, received suspicious, fearful, and contemptuous looks from various white patrons. The antagonistic and not so subtle nature of their stares caused us to quickly exit the theatre and jettison plans to greet colleagues in the cast.

Needless to say, I was livid. The play had created a climate of racist hostility towards a South Asian male audience member. The intrusive and disdainful stares of the ostensibly “liberal” white racists in attendance that afternoon hadn’t materialized before at ATC, at least not for us. Was this arraigning gaze propelled by what unfolded on stage? It’s hard to conclude otherwise. Were people projecting onto Malik the same racialized fears affirmed by the play’s protagonist, Amir Kapoor (the “apostate” Muslim with the Hindu name)? I’m inclined to think so.

Malik and I love theatre. We see a lot of plays. What happened at Disgraced represents a uniquely horrible violation of an otherwise sacred space for us.

Question: In many respects, neither you nor Malik fit the profile of the “typical” theatre maker and yet you’ve co-founded Silk Road Rising, you champion playwrights of Asian and Middle Eastern backgrounds, and you advocate for Muslim representation within American theatre. Isn’t it then fair to surmise that Disgraced is “your kind of play?”

Disgraced certainly fulfills our mission requirement that the playwright and protagonist be of a Silk Road background. But in terms of our politics, the play is highly problematic. For the record, we have always maintained that we’re not interested in Muslim characters who are angels or demons, but rather those that are complex, conflicted, and three dimensional. On that front, Akhtar delivers. But does Disgraced challenge Islamophobic perceptions of Muslims? No, not in any discernibly effective way. Does Disgraced affirm societal fears about Muslims? Yes, particularly if you already inhabit those fears. Mind you, I’ll be meddling with those statements shortly.

In my ideal world, the play delivers a searing critique of the liberal racism and “righteous” Islamophobia it all too often indulges. Which isn’t to deny the many merits of the existing play. Disgraced is, by all accounts, an intriguing, provocative, well-written play with some fascinating characters and sharp, compelling dialogue. It is the creation of a talented playwright with an incisive mind. If handled responsibly (i.e. without an ax to grind against Muslims), it has the potential to incite important dialogue.

But in a cultural climate imbued with anti-Muslim racism and fear, it satisfies the status quo more than it helps us evolve. And that matters. A lot. You can make the case that Akhtar bears no responsibility for challenging racism, and I will respectfully disagree. With representation comes responsibility. Or, as I wrote in my essay Mass Media Muslims, “Criticize, call out, air dirty laundry, demand change, by all means, but success needn’t come at the price of ‘authenticating’ arguments peddled by those who inflict harm on Muslims.”

Question: Critics of Disgraced have been accused of not appreciating the nuance, complexity and sophistication of the play. These accusations have been somewhat effective at intimidating and silencing critics, particularly those who are not “traditional theatre goers” and specifically those of Muslim, South Asian, and Arab backgrounds. How do you respond to the “nuance defense?”

There’s been a lot of derision and smug condescension directed against those who’ve expressed concerns about this play, and, from what I’ve been told, some reckless attempts to “preempt” potential backlash. If you’ve taken offense or felt yourself maligned by Disgraced, there’s a high probability you’ve been accused of “lacking sophistication.” Clearly you fail to understand all the nuance in the play. You’re too literal/simplistic/reductive. You can’t see nuance. How unsophisticated you are. Okay. Let’s see. The protagonist spits in the face of a Jew (twice!), professes pride in 9/11, and beats up his white wife. NUANCE! That savage primate is a Muslim!

We theatre makers should be secure enough to receive criticism without needing to insult people’s intelligence or instruct them on how they should feel. Respect trumps paternalism every day of the week. If there’s going to be genuine dialogue about this play then that dialogue has to include Muslim Americans and their allies, including Muslim critics of this play. Not carefully “vetted” or “managed” Muslims, but individuals who critically engage Muslim representation in arts and media. Making authorial arguments (“But the playwright’s a Muslim!”) and assigning Akhtar the role of spokesman (a role I’m sure he doesn’t covet) fails Muslim and non-Muslim audiences alike, and reveals an ignorance of the community’s broad diversity.

Question: Disgraced is not the first play written by a Muslim American playwright featuring a Muslim American protagonist. Yet it is the first to achieve such critical and commercial success, including the 2013 Pulitzer Prize for Drama and a 2015 Tony Award nomination for Best New Play. Why this play?

I think it important to note that the 2015-16 theatre season represents a first in American theatre history. Unprecedented, really. A play written by a Muslim American playwright of Pakistani heritage will receive more productions nationwide than any other play. And it’s been quite the illustrious journey. From American Theater Company, to Lincoln Center, to London’s West End, to Broadway, to scheduled productions at over 30 US theatre companies, to an HBO film deal, to foreign language translations, Disgraced has become nothing short of an international phenomenon. And as noted, my recent revisiting of Disgraced in its production at Chicago’s Goodman Theatre (Fall 2015) caused me to rethink some of my earlier views, a handful of key questions still nag at me:

Why is a play that affirms people’s worst fears and biases about Muslims the toast of the American theatre season? With all the hurt and fear being experienced by so many Muslim Americans today, why are America’s theatre leaders piling on more? Shouldn’t they know better? Why is America celebrating a play that triggers racist paranoia and incites racial profiling within the hallowed halls of our theatres? Why have many of our nation’s leading theatre companies embraced a play that activates Islamophobic anxieties without contextualizing and deconstructing those anxieties? Why is it that so many theatre critics and scholars continue to lionize a play that indulges many of the worst Orientalist stereotypes and clichés? Why is it that artistic directors and producers who have demonstrated almost zero interest in Muslim American stories are so suddenly drawn to this story? In a climate of profound anti-Muslim racism and hatred, in which talented, courageous, and provocative Muslim playwrights are routinely ignored by mainstream theatres, I cannot help but wonder about the intentionality behind this embrace.

Question: In fall of 2015, you and Malik saw Disgraced for the second time in a production at Chicago’s Goodman Theatre. Your experience of the Goodman’s production was significantly different than your experience of the World Premiere back in 2012. Please explain.

In many ways my thinking about Disgraced can be divided into two distinct time periods: Before Goodman and After Goodman. Before Goodman I was firmly in the “not a fan” camp. Now I’m conflicted and torn. Maybe that’s the point. Today, in the After Goodman phase, while many of my political objections remain intact, I’ve seen new possibilities arise. Indeed, the second time around was nothing like the first. We actually found lots to like in the play. Perhaps it was the shock and distress (trauma really) of the first viewing that cleared the way for us to engage a story shaded more in grays than in black and white.

This time it felt like an invitation, a springboard to further inquiry, not an abrupt dead end. The unbridled anger and untamed outbursts of that first production had given way to something more complex, more complicated and, dare I say, more nuanced. It had grown into a play riddled with human challenges and desires, self-doubt and discovery, internalized discord and externalized fears. The play was both confident and tormented. And the anti-colonial, anti-imperialist pleas of the protagonist’s nephew, Abe, popped for me in very meaningful and powerful ways. All in all, it was an excellent production of a waiting-to-not-be-problematic play: a dynamic, engaging, beautifully acted, brilliantly directed, intellectual sparring session, rife with ideas—good, bad, and debatable. The earlier assault gave way to an engrossing journey, at times jarring, at times illuminating.

And while we’ll never forget the ugliness of the racial profiling that occurred that Saturday afternoon in 2012, nor excuse the play’s culpability in spurring that offense, we’ve arrived at a truce. We’re ready to negotiate with Disgraced from a position of moral power. Disgraced demands vigilance, scrutiny, interrogation and rigorous questioning. It should never be let off the hook. Not with all the attention and accolades it’s received and the dozens of productions still in the pipeline. Hate crimes and discrimination against Muslim Americans continue to rise, the causality for which can be traced largely to representation. Let us never dismiss the seriousness and urgency of this crisis. Disgraced is having real impact and that impact needs to be checked and balanced. In its current state it’s still far from inhabiting a counter-narrative.

That said, Disgraced does open up discourse on important problems, and that’s what we need to seize upon. The contextual and subtextual layers of the play offer real opportunities, useful opportunities. Disgraced can be easily staged as a racist, hateful indictment of Muslims, and no doubt many such stagings lie ahead. I hope they’re resoundingly condemned. But sincere creative teams will mine it for the meditation and window it has the potential to be. Perhaps they’ll find irony and paradox in some of its more egregious elements, and find ways to challenge, undermine, or decenter those moments. Frankly, this play can only be wielded in the hands of truly smart, politically responsible directors. Otherwise, God help us. I’m eager for Muslims to begin directing it.

Disgraced also requires savvy producers who can facilitate public conversations and solicit community input long before and well after the curtain rises. If you’ve committed to this play, then commit to those communities that may be adversely affected by it. Listen, do not lecture. Develop partnerships and strategies. You’re making a statement by producing Disgraced. Now build upon that statement for the betterment of us all.

Question: You attended the Goodman performance as a guest of director Kimberly Senior. Senior also directed that first production at American Theatre Company as well as the Lincoln Center and Broadway productions. After the performance, you had a chance to discuss the play with Senior. Anything to share?

Can I just say that Akhtar has a true friend and champion in Kimberly Senior! I was very moved listening to her describe her attachment to his play. It rang like a love letter of sorts and helped me appreciate the multiplicities of subjectivities people bring to the play. It was clear that this play has consumed her, artistically and intellectually, in the best possible ways. No, I don’t agree with all of her opinions about Disgraced, but I can respect how she’s arrived at those opinions. We wouldn’t have seen the Goodman production had Kimberly not invited us. In fact, we were studiously avoiding it. She performed what I would call a diplomatic intervention and we’re grateful that she did. In a follow-up email exchange with Senior, I asked her what she thinks the play accomplishes. She wrote back:

“It feels like such a contemporary play! We get to examine the climate of a post 9/11 landscape and have an active dialogue in a domestic setting where the discourse is equally matched with humor and passion. What Disgraced accomplishes most notably is that it forces us not to see cultures, genders, races as monolithic entities but rather as diverse, ever shifting populations. Our preconceived notions are challenged and we leave the theater with more questions than answers and an eagerness to dig deeper. One doesn’t have to agree with everything in Disgraced, but the opportunity to discuss, rehash, and reinvestigate makes it a play for the ages.”

Question: It’s been argued that the infamous wife beating scene towards the end of the play is necessary in order to demonstrate the pent up rage and humiliation of the play’s protagonist. How do you respond to this argument?

Based on what we see of the relationship between Amir and his wife Emily, I just don’t buy it. Admittedly, in sexist, patriarchal societies like the US, all men are violent against women in any number of ways. But in the case of this play’s ending, it appears to be feeding more into a racist narrative about Muslim men than making a statement about the accumulated rage of one’s perceived powerlessness or, more generally, men’s contempt for women. There are lots of ways men grapple with betrayal, hurt, anger, rage, and humiliation besides beating up their wives. That scene would be a lot more powerful if Amir were to respond to the deception and injustice in his world without resorting to violence. Ideally, accumulated heartbreak and injury spurs people into action, not fisticuffs. A brown Muslim man beating up a white woman feels like an exhausted trope.

We need plays that explore domestic violence within Muslim communities—we need plays written by survivors—but Disgraced isn’t that play and I wish to God that scene were cut. It’d be a much stronger work. But if he has to hit her, I want her to hit him back. Or break something over his head or kick him in the balls or all three. Then again, she does have the courage to leave him, which is commendable and too seldom the case. If I were tasked with drawing up a wish list, we’d also lose the “Muslims are anti-Semitic” and “Muslims are tribal” conceits. Or at least explore those charges differently. Very differently.

But hey, it’s Akhtar’s play to write, not mine. He’ll decide. The great thing about playwriting is it’s never done until it’s done, and I suspect this play’s still in-progress. I hope it is. Oh, what the hell: Ayad Akhtar, if you’re reading this, please revisit the Rivka story from Amir’s childhood (I’ve never bought it), the “9/11 did me proud” blood libel, and of course, the notorious “now I’m going to beat the shit out of the woman I love” outrage. I’m not asking you to slash and burn, I’m asking you to revisit. Wield your power constructively. Your play’s way too good and way too high profile for such dangerous and incriminating content. Forgive me for overstepping boundaries, but the stakes are far too high not to.

Question: You have been privy to conversations about Akhtar’s motives for writing Disgraced. What are some of the theories and speculations you’ve heard?

For starters, Akhtar wrote a play and a lot of us took notice. That’s testimony to the gravity of his writing. Why else would I be writing this response? Yes, I have been privy to theories and speculations about his motives. Granted, I do not know his motives, and likely never will. The one that gets repeated most often is that Akhtar threw his community under the bus in hopes of gaining mainstream approval and acclaim. Perhaps so he could write more honest plays moving forward? The dignity and pride of Muslim Americans would be the price he’d pay to garner fame and establish a platform for himself. Then he’d undo some of his damage down the line (or not). That’s one theory.

More sardonically, I’ve heard him called “the anti-Muslim Muslim of the American theatre,” snatching access and opportunity at any cost. And I recall one person referring to him as the “Ayaan Hirsi Ali of playwriting” (and not as a compliment, mind you). Some have said that he’s angry at his community and is lashing out. Accusations such as “sell-out,” “traitor,” “Uncle Tom,” and “self-hating Muslim” have also been bantered about, as well as claims that he exploits his Muslimness and uses it to credentialize caricatures and gross generalizations, thereby ingratiating himself to powerful Islamophobes. These arguments proceed from the assumption that for a Muslim artist to be accepted by America’s cultural arbiters and critics, he must first establish anti-Muslim bonafides.

Let’s give the man some benefit of the doubt! Ascribing these motives to Akhtar is cynical and conspiratorial, not to mention mighty ungenerous towards the many artists involved in developing his play. I know several artists who’ve been attached to Disgraced and they are people of absolute integrity. I do not believe that Akhtar set out to align himself, strategically or opportunistically, with anti-Muslim animus. I may disagree strongly with some of his choices, but I’m sure they weren’t made out of malice. But by the same token, I can’t dismiss people’s theories and speculations as unrelated to their experiences with the play. They too are people of integrity and many have been hurt by Akhtar’s words. Malik’s experience did not occur in some anecdotal vacuum. His story belongs to the world of Disgraced. And it ought to inform how we approach the play.

Question: You have compared Disgraced to William Friedkin’s 1980 film Cruising, insomuch as both provide lessons about the politics of representation and the burden of being the “only” story. Why this particular comparison?

My sense is that Cruising can provide historical hindsight for those of us who’ve been critical of Disgraced. The film’s protagonist, played by Al Pacino, is a New York City police officer assigned to investigate a series of murders targeting gay men who frequented leather s/m bars. Its release was protested by gay activists who deemed its portrayal of a gay serial killer, and its depictions of leather sexuality, as an indictment of the gay community. The fear in organized activist circles was that mainstream audiences would assume the film to be representative of all gay men and that it would reinforce long held assumptions about homosexual criminality and pathology. Understandable and justifiable for the time.

After the film’s release there were reports of brutal gay bashings in which perpetrators cited Cruising as their main motivation. So it wasn’t until, I believe, 2013 that I actually watched Cruising, having been convinced decades earlier that the film was virulently anti-gay. Then I watched it again recently, with Disgraced very much in mind. I can’t say I love the film (it certainly has problems) but I do like it, and find aspects of it to be quite fascinating (Al Pacino’s tangled character, for one, and of course those scenes in the leather bars!). I can appreciate the story for what it is and not feel defensive or threatened that it’s somehow assumed to be my story.

Needless to say, 1980 was a markedly different time for LGBT Americans. Cruising was released in an era when honest, complex, three dimensional portrayals of gay men were virtually nil—not unlike Muslim representation today. Pop culture representation of queer lives was overwhelmingly negative and incriminating. We were to be feared, despised and, at best, ridiculed. The dramatic increase in LGBT representation since 1980 is what allowed me to engage Cruising as simply a story as opposed to the story. Now, 35 years later it is widely assumed in this country (parts of this country?) that queers comprise robustly diverse communities—communities that may even include a few serial killers. This is why I believe Cruising has important parallels to Disgraced.

In an America satiated with Muslim stories and Muslim protagonists, with Muslim heroes and not just villains, Disgraced becomes a well-crafted, telling reflection on self-loathing and internalized racism, the psychological projections of an Islamophobic culture, and Amir Kapoor becomes an intriguing, albeit pitiable, thread in a much larger tapestry. Unfortunately, that’s not the America we’re living in. The difference between Disgraced being the Muslim story engaged by mainstream theatre goers, as opposed to Muslim story among many, is a difference mainstream theatres should be striving to identify and correct.

For the record, I believe that Cruising and Disgraced share a good many more commonalities, particularly in their respective socio-cultural contexts, but I’ll leave those analyses to others. An exhaustive comparison of the two needs to be made.

Question: If you had the ear of all the artistic directors, producers, and literary managers across the country who’ve championed Disgraced, what would you tell them?

Produce more Muslim American playwrights! Produce Yussef El Guindi’s Our Enemies: Lively Scenes of Love and Combat. Seriously. It’s a brilliant, provocative, rousing play that would make a fascinating companion to Disgraced. It won the Osborn New Play Award yet never received its due. We’re living in a golden age of Arab, Muslim, and South Asian American cultural production in this country and you wouldn’t know it looking at the programming of America’s regional theatres and mainstream arts institutions. We at Silk Road Rising are happy to provide leads and make introductions. I want all the theatres that are producing Disgraced to follow up by producing more Muslim, Middle Eastern, and South Asian American plays. There are some truly fantastic, underappreciated, underproduced, and largely unknown playwrights out there who deserve your attention and care! Let this not be a one-off but rather the beginning of a new artistic era.

In the coming decades, Islam is on track to become the second largest religion in the United States. The number of Muslims living in this country has doubled in the past ten years. These are communities with stories to tell that the rest of us need to be hearing. An inclusive theatre is a reflective theatre. We can all be doing better. Looking forward to your upcoming season announcements! Please don’t let us down.

Jamil Khoury is the Founding Artistic Director of Silk Road Rising. Promoting playwrights of Silk Road backgrounds (Asian and Middle Eastern) is a passion that dovetails well with Khoury’s experiences living in the Middle East and his eleven years as a cross-cultural trainer and international relocations consultant. A theatre producer, essayist, playwright, and film maker, Khoury’s work focuses on Middle Eastern themes and questions of Diaspora. He is particularly interested in the intersections of culture, national identity, and citizenship. Khoury holds a M.A. degree in Religious Studies from The University of Chicago Divinity School and a B.S. degree in International Relations from Georgetown University ‘s School of Foreign Service. He is a Kellogg Executive Scholar (Kellogg School of Management, Northwestern University) and has been awarded a Certificate of Professional Achievement in Nonprofit Management. Khoury is the 2015 recipient of the Community Leader Award from the Association for Asian American Studies, the 2013 recipient of the Actor’s Equity Association’s Kathryn V. Lamkey Award for promoting diversity and inclusion in theatre, and the 2010 recipient of the 3Arts Artist Award for Playwriting.


Logo_Publications

Arab Stages
Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016)
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Founders: Marvin Carlson and Frank Hentschker

Editor-in-Chief: Marvin Carlson

Editorial and Advisory Board: Fawzia Afzal-Khan, Dina Amin, Khalid Amine, Hazem Azmy, Dalia Basiouny, Katherine Donovan, Masud Hamdan, Sameh Hanna, Rolf C. Hemke, Katherine Hennessey, Areeg Ibrahim, Jamil Khoury, Dominika Laster, Margaret Litvin, Rebekah Maggor, Safi Mahfouz, Robert Myers, Michael Malek Naijar, Hala Nassar, George Potter, Juan Recondo, Nada Saab, Asaad Al-Saleh, Torange Yeghiazarian, Edward Ziter.

Managing Editor: Meir A. Farjoun

Assistant Managing Editor: Nina Angela Mercer

Table of Content
Essays

  • Khalid Amine & Marvin Carlson – Tayeb Saddiki and the Re-invention of Tradition in Contemporary Moroccan Theatre: An Obituary
  • Ziad Adwan – The Local Otherness: Theatre Houses in the United Arab Emirates
  • Michael Malek Najjar – Yussef El Guindi’s Arab Spring – Revolutions, Upheavals, and Critical Critiques
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced
  • Jamil Khoury – Parsing Disgraced: An Assault, A Critique, and A Truce
  • Chloë Edmonson – Body Politics in Adham Hafez Company’s 2065 BC
  • Joachim Ben Yakoub & Fida Hammami – A Counterpoint Reading of the Moussem Cities@Tunis Festival

Reviews

  • Marvin Carlson & Philippa Wehle – The Last Supper by Ahmed El Attar
  • Margaret Litvin – Arab Angst on Swedish Stages
  • Heather Denyer – Heather Raffo’s Noura in Progress
  • Sarah Moawad – Two Egyptian Playwrights in Boston: Hany Abdel Naser’s They Say Dancing is a Sin and Yasmeen Emam’s The Mirror
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Michael Najjar’s direction of Scorched by Wajdi Mouawad
  • Michael Malek Najjar – AB: Beit Byout by Tahweel Ensemble Theatre in Beiruth
  • Safi Mahmoud Mahfouz –Review of Four Arab Hamlet Plays by Marvin Carlson & Margaret Litvin (eds.)

Short Plays

  • Hamed Almaliki – The Cart
  • Ali Abdulnebbi Al Zaidi – Rubbish
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Body Politics in Adham Hafez Company’s 2065 BC

Body Politics in Adham Hafez Company’s 2065 BC
By Chloë Edmonson
Arab Stages, Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016) 
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publication

New York Live Arts hosts the Live Ideas Festival each Spring under a different theme. The festival website is http://newyorklivearts.org/liveideas/.  The 2016 theme for the Festival was MENA/Future – Cultural Transformations in the Middle East North Africa Region.  In the program notes, MENA/Future’s co-curator Adham Hafez observed that “contemporary Arab performance is obliged to reside within the limited and limiting spectrum of ‘political art.’”  His dance theatre piece 2065 BC was one of MENA/Future’s many performances that explored the potentials and limitations of ‘political art’ in the Middle East and North Africa.

Aside from co-curating the festival, Hafez is the Artistic Director of Adham Hafez Company and the Program Director of the Egyptian dance development and research platform, HaRaKa.  His work persistently explores the various iterations of political art within tumultuous times and places, such as contemporary Cairo.  Conceived, composed, and choreographed by Hafez himself, 2065 BC reimagines the Berlin Conference of 1884, restaging it in a war-torn, dystopian future in which resources are scarce and a new world order needs to be established.

The original 1884 conference assembled the world’s major European colonial powers of the time, including Portugal, France, England, and Germany.  At the conference, European diplomats sought to strategize the seizure and redistribution of African resources, with particular interest in the extremely fertile Congo River Basin.  Fast forward 180 years to 2065 BC, and the fictional and seemingly matriarchal dominion of Arsika holds the power to reallocate the Earth’s resources, which have been seriously depleted after a third World War.

As audience members enter the theatre, they are given an Arsikan “passport” (which doubles as the performance program).  Immediately visible is Samir Kordy’s simple set for the first act, consisting of a conference table covered in stacks of paper and a single dais with a microphone.  Visual Score and Lighting Designer Nurah Farahat’s disorienting collages of women’s faces flicker onto the walls behind the set.  Meanwhile, Sound Composer Ahmed Ghazoly’s layered and garbled recordings of feminine voices announces the conference’s commencement.  Though things appear slightly foreign in this imagined future, 2065 BC brings up the same questions of occupation, access, and power that undergirded the infamous original conference nearly two centuries ago.

Adham Hafez Company members Charlene Ibrahim, Alaa Abdellateef, and Mona Gamil.

Stylistically, 2065 BC deconstructs the Berlin Conference into a series of gestural sequences.  Performers Mona Gamil, Alaa Abdellateef, Salma Abdel Salam, and Charlene Ibrahim sit astutely at their conference table, shuffling papers until each takes her turn at the dais.  When Gamil rises to speak, she counts slowly to 130, confronting the audience with the aggressive monotony of her voice and facial expression.  This monotony returns at different intervals throughout 2065 BC, and is at once a frustrating and thought-provoking theatrical choice.  Indeed, the tedious vocal formality and measured physicality of the fictional diplomats – who carry themselves almost as if they are cyborg flight attendants – serves as a distancing device.  Throughout the conference reenactment, the inability of the audience to halt the monotony calls up Hafez’s core questions around the ethics of occupation.  Further alienating the audience are the female diplomats’ costumes (designed elegantly by Nermine Said), which sew together elements of contemporary high fashion, Victorian headwear, and colonial khaki.  Although they may challenge the audience, the familiar-yet-strange elements of the acting and design are among the production’s most critical strengths.

Indeed, 2065 BC interrogates the notion of political occupation, specifically within the unpredictable political climate of Egypt, North Africa, and the Middle East.  Yet it also interrogates the significant ways that women are exploited within these precarious conditions of war and civil unrest.  To assert these critical interventions, the conference sequences in Arsika are interspersed with other thematic segments.  These sequences include more of Farahat’s stimulating audiovisual projections, an absurdist “Cabaret for the Colonies” scene, and finally a grotesque fashion show displaying the DIY couture of various colonial princesses. Through lyrics, dance, and images, 2065 BC exposes the many ways that wars of power and conquest are fought not only in Africa and Arskika, but upon the bodies of women.

Alaa Abdellateef, Charlene Ibrahim, and Mona Gamil perform in the “Cabaret for the Colonies”.

In introducing the “Cabaret for the Colonies,” for example, an announcer lists an absurdly long litany of stripper names that eroticize Middle Eastern and North African culture and conflict, such as “Scarlet O’Sahara” and “Guantanamo Babe.”  The cabaret’s MC, aka “Baby Drone,” (played by Salam) guides us through a vaudevillian array of vocal performances by Gamil, Abdellateef, and Ibrahim.  These songs juxtapose humor, racism, critical theory, and misogyny, eliciting laughter laced with discomfort.

In another sequence, Ibrahim performs an undulating and frenetic belly dance with a pair of large plastic breasts slung across her behind.  Her enthralling movements bring to mind Josephine Baker’s banana dance or Saartjie Baartman on display as theVenus Hottentot.  Indeed, later in the performance, images of Baartman are projected as a backdrop to the colonial fashion show.  The duration of 2065 BC, in fact, is littered with citations to other places, times, and objects.  Each citation is entangled within a global politics of occupation and colonization.  The hyper-citationality of 2065 BC may stem from Hafez’s time studying under Bruno Latour, the famous French theorist who argued for the critical agency of objects within social networks (known as actor-network theory).  Like a Latourian network, Hafez’s concept of political occupation is not married to any genre, place, or time.  This epistemological vertigo thereby evokes a kind of ecological ethics, in which everything is connected.  Indeed, 2065 BC’s greatest power is that it implicates audiences within the complex global networks of occupation, exploitation, and unrest.  Hafez enthusiastically risks alienating his audience with boredom, frustration, and discomfort in order to shed light on our shared responsibility in it all.

Chloë Rae Edmonson is a PhD Candidate in Theatre at the City University of New York Graduate Center.  Her dissertation investigates the politics of consumption within the intoxicated audiences of immersive theatre and popular entertainments in New York City since the mid-nineteenth-century.  She teaches theatre at the City College of New York and holds an M.A. in Performance Studies from New York University and a B.A. in Theatre and English from Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas. 


Logo_Publications

Arab Stages
Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016)
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Founders: Marvin Carlson and Frank Hentschker

Editor-in-Chief: Marvin Carlson

Editorial and Advisory Board: Fawzia Afzal-Khan, Dina Amin, Khalid Amine, Hazem Azmy, Dalia Basiouny, Katherine Donovan, Masud Hamdan, Sameh Hanna, Rolf C. Hemke, Katherine Hennessey, Areeg Ibrahim, Jamil Khoury, Dominika Laster, Margaret Litvin, Rebekah Maggor, Safi Mahfouz, Robert Myers, Michael Malek Naijar, Hala Nassar, George Potter, Juan Recondo, Nada Saab, Asaad Al-Saleh, Torange Yeghiazarian, Edward Ziter.

Managing Editor: Meir A. Farjoun

Assistant Managing Editor: Nina Angela Mercer

Table of Content
Essays

  • Khalid Amine & Marvin Carlson – Tayeb Saddiki and the Re-invention of Tradition in Contemporary Moroccan Theatre: An Obituary
  • Ziad Adwan – The Local Otherness: Theatre Houses in the United Arab Emirates
  • Michael Malek Najjar – Yussef El Guindi’s Arab Spring – Revolutions, Upheavals, and Critical Critiques
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced
  • Jamil Khoury – Parsing Disgraced: An Assault, A Critique, and A Truce
  • Chloë Edmonson – Body Politics in Adham Hafez Company’s 2065 BC
  • Joachim Ben Yakoub & Fida Hammami – A Counterpoint Reading of the Moussem Cities@Tunis Festival

Reviews

  • Marvin Carlson & Philippa Wehle – The Last Supper by Ahmed El Attar
  • Margaret Litvin – Arab Angst on Swedish Stages
  • Heather Denyer – Heather Raffo’s Noura in Progress
  • Sarah Moawad – Two Egyptian Playwrights in Boston: Hany Abdel Naser’s They Say Dancing is a Sin and Yasmeen Emam’s The Mirror
  • Torange Yeghiazarian – On Michael Najjar’s direction of Scorched by Wajdi Mouawad
  • Michael Malek Najjar – AB: Beit Byout by Tahweel Ensemble Theatre in Beiruth
  • Safi Mahmoud Mahfouz –Review of Four Arab Hamlet Plays by Marvin Carlson & Margaret Litvin (eds.)

Short Plays

  • Hamed Almaliki – The Cart
  • Ali Abdulnebbi Al Zaidi – Rubbish
Also posted in Essays, Volume 4 | Leave a comment

On Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced

On Ayad Akhtar’s Disgraced 
By Torange Yeghiazarian 
Arab Stages, Volume 2, Number 2 (Spring 2016)
©2016 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publication

“I can’t help but feel conflicted when I hear Muslim audience members outraged at the way they feel they are being represented on stage, and hearing other audience members (mostly white) continuously quoting the universality of the play. I just can’t help thinking the privilege that lies in being able to see the play as universal, especially when you are not the one being represented on stage…… And I wonder who is this play really serving when the voices of those who feel they have been robbed of a great opportunity to redeem their diverse and rich cultures to wide audiences are being overwhelmed by applause and standing ovations and rave reviews.“  – See more at: http://howlround.com/universality-in-disgraced-by-ayad-akhtar-does-the-intent-justify-the-impact#sthash.lqdWiEUe.dpuf

I am a playwright, a director and producer. I grew up in a predominantly Muslim country, and have for the past 35 years lived in the US, a country that has been bombing predominantly Muslim countries for the last 20 years. Of course our relatively liberal administration reminds us that we’re not at war with Muslims. Which begs the question, who are we at war with? But that’s another story. Naturally, when a play like Disgraced comes along that garners the kind of national attention unprecedented for any other play with a Muslim man as its lead character, we ask why? Many brilliant colleagues have written informative articles about the play which I recommend reading. Chief among them is Arlene Martínez-Vázquez’ comprehensive and thoughtful analysis published in HowlRound, quoted above. While I acknowledge the challenges of producing Disgraced in the US in these times, I actually see the play as a step forward. Here, I attempt to explain why.

Also posted in Essays, Volume 4 | Leave a comment

Theatre as an Optimistic Political Act: Lebanese Theatre Artist Sahar Assaf

Theatre as an Optimistic Political Act:
Lebanese Theatre Artist Sahar Assaf
By Michael Malek Najjar
Arab StagesVolume 2, Number 1 (Fall 2015)
©2015 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Lebanese actress, director, and theatre professor Sahar Assaf has been creating important theatre and performance works for the past decade. Her productions have served a vital function in the cultural life of Lebanon, namely that of memorialization. Lebanese society has generally refused to memorialize its brutal civil war, which lasted from 1975 to 1990. The main imperative was to move forward rather than look back at a conflict that left more than 150,000 dead and millions displaced. Theatre artists like Assaf have challenged this notion by creating introspective works that focus on the violence of the past while considering how that violence has shaped Lebanon’s present. With the onslaught of the Syrian civil war and as millions of Syrian refugees have crossed into Lebanon, a new and more urgent desire to address that war’s horrific aftermath has arisen. Assaf’s work fills a void in Lebanese life and arts by scrutinizing the past and examining the present with the hope for a better future.

Born to a Druze family in Warhanieh, a small village in the Shouf Mountains of Lebanon, Assaf grew up during the Lebanese Civil War. As a child Assaf spent most of her time witnessing village life and the “happenings” that would occur there — fish and clothing sellers as well as Druze weddings and funerals. Since the desire to study acting and directing for the stage is not always well received in Druze culture, Assaf ultimately worked toward her Bachelor of Arts in Journalism with a specialty in Television and Radio, and later a Master of Arts in Sociology from the American University of Beirut (AUB). Her first foray into directing came with various drama clubs where she directed plays by Tawfiq al-Hakim, Sophocles, Michael Frayn, and Neil Simon. She was a Fulbright recipient while studying at Central Washington University for her Master of Arts in Theatre Studies. Assaf also has a Professional Executive Masters in Psychosocial Animation in War-torn Societies and is currently working toward licensure in drama therapy. She is a member of the prestigious Lincoln Center Theater Directors Lab and, currently, she works as an assistant professor of theatre at AUB.

Many Lebanese know Assaf primarily as an actress, which she maintains is still her first passion. Early in her career she acted in several plays directed by respected theatre director Lina Abyad, the most acclaimed of which was titled Come Back to Bed Love. Assaf has also acted in a play under the direction of Issam Bou Khaled, and she has performed at Lebanese American University (LAU), Haigazian University, and the Lebanese University. She has also had minor roles in the television dramas Qalam Homra and Hdoud Shaqiqa. For Assaf, acting is far more than entertainment. She says, “I think it is through acting that we get the closest possible to our humanity, to understanding a different person. When one is totally present in the shoes of another human being, a character for that matter, just present without any judgments, one becomes whole.”[1]

“The Rape”, directed by Sahar Assaf. Photo: Alexy Frangieh.

Growing up in a patriarchal culture like that found in the villages of Lebanon, Assaf faced great resistance from others to the notion of women studying theatre or voicing their political views. “In many Lebanese communities women don’t have a voice equal to that of men,” Assaf told me. “While I was growing up, it affected me deeply every time I heard ‘No, because you are a girl’ or ‘No, women have no business discussing politics’…Today, the oppression of both women and men, especially resulting from patriarchy, is a recurring theme in my theatre and my teaching.”[2] Indeed, Assaf’s theatre is inherently political on multiple levels, addressing issues of patriarchy, governmental instability, and political chaos. If public apathy toward the theatre is not enough of a barrier, Lebanon still requires artists to submit scripts to a governmental censor for approval. Also, there is no governmental funding for productions and even corporate sponsorship is not possible without personal connections to the companies themselves. She says,

Practicing theatre in a country that’s constantly in turmoil is an optimistic political act in and of itself, regardless of its genre…It’s a constant call for life, for a prosperous humanity. When we put a story on stage, any story, we are inviting the audiences to reflect on their existence and humanity and understand it beyond the social meanings they constructed or those that were constructed for them. Theatre is a political act and like any political act it has a confrontational role. When the artist chooses to create despite the sterile situation around her, it’s the artist’s way of not giving up, of not taking the status quo for granted, and her way to fight back using the most peaceful method possible.[3]

This desire for fighting back with peaceful means became a hallmark of her work which included starting a theatre company and collaborating with theatre makers that could make that desire a reality.

Assaf co-founded the Beirut-based Tahweel Ensemble Theatre with AUB professor and playwright Robert Myers, and Lebanese actors Raffi Feghali and Sany Abdul Baki. The group is dedicated to producing a repertory of productions in Lebanon, the Arab world, and beyond. Tahweel also organizes workshops for the purposes of creating new productions and developing theatrical skills. Tahweel, which is Arabic for “transformation,” describes its mission as “an ongoing process of positive personal and artistic transformation in all the ensemble’s projects…committed to using theatre as a tool for edifying and enlightening audiences in the Middle East and elsewhere in the world.”[4] With AUB, she directed an English translation of The Dictator by Lebanese playwright Issam Mahfouz, two English-language premieres of Sa’dallah Wannous’s plays The Rape and Rituals and Signs of Transformations, as well as a site-specific promenade performance piece in English and Arabic titled Watch Your Step: Beirut Heritage Walking Tour.

Assaf’s production of Wannous’s play The Rape was produced at AUB with support from LAU. Premiering at the LAU Irwin Theatre in March 2015, the play included a cast of both student and professional actors. Adapted by Myers and LAU professor Nada Saab, the play is a 1989 drama based on Antonio Buero Vallegro’s 1964 play The Double Life of Doctor Valmy. The Rape chronicles the tale of both Palestinian and Israeli families living through the first Intifada. One of the hallmarks of the drama is that it is an Arab play that sought to humanize, rather than stereotype characters, including those of the Israelis. The Daily Star reviewer India Stoughton wrote, “Excellent performances from many of the actors make this an electrifying production…under Assaf’s direction the performance slowly builds in tension toward its catastrophic climax.”[5] For Assaf, the play was not only about the seeming hopelessness of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but also about the hope that can arise out of tragedy. She utilized the image of the Israeli separation barrier as a visual touchstone for the production because, in her view, “the wall built by Israel to isolate the Palestinians did actually imprison the Israelis as well. Despite huge differences, the prison exists on both sides.”[6] By working with her costume designer Bashar Assaf, her lighting designer Fuad Halawani, and set designer Ghida Hashisho, Assaf created a prison-like mise-en-scène that reminded audiences of torture rooms and secret prisons. Working with her actors utilizing techniques including psychological gesture, text analysis, political debates, and Theatre of the Oppressed exercises, Assaf attempted to evoke meaning in performance through communion with her audiences. Assaf writes, “My main challenge, as a director is to immerse the audiences in the world of the play and make them lose their sense of direction. To be able to do that I, first, have to lose my sense of direction.”[7] This loss of direction is one that pulls audiences from their preconceived notions, their prejudices, and their stereotypical ideas regarding political situations. In his review of the play in Outlook AUB, Edward Ghazaley wrote, “One of its strongest and surprising elements is that the play only advocates humanity.”[8] Assaf’s method is to create theatre that is decidedly political, but also one that includes a humanistic approach that overrides any political analysis or history.

Rituals of Signs and Transformations, directed by Sahar Assaf. Photo: Alexy Frangieh

Assaf’s production of Wannous’s play Rituals of Signs and Transformations (translated to the English by Myers and Saab) was produced by AUB and performed at the Babel Theatre in Beirut in December 2013. The play was also given a staged reading at Silk Road Rising in Chicago in March 2014. Myers and Saab, along with Silk Road Rising, received a MacArthur Foundation Grant to translate the play in 2012. Rituals, considered by many to be one of Wannous’s masterpieces, utilized an Ottoman myth in order to critique the society of his day. Myers describes the play as being about “how individual transformation can transform society and about how theatre is a singular medium for creating civil society.”[9] The play critiques a society that refuses to confront issues such as gay rights, child abuse, rape, religious hypocrisy, and abuse of political power. As with The Rape, Assaf took a personal, storytelling approach to the production. “For Rituals,” Assaf wrote, “my starting point was a nebulous conception of what the characters must be like that later developed into a particular social and philosophical notion that I got from the text.”[10] She later examined the public vs. private spheres of the characters and, from that exploration, came the notion that the “transformations” in the play take place when characters face a physical or social death connected with their refusal of their public selves. Likewise, when the characters gradually understand their internal selves, they face more devastation and loss of control. Assaf wrote in her directorial journal:

Change is scary. We conceal the aspects of our personality that the society rejects. This game of concealing parts of us happens over a process. We keep hiding things as we grow, days will come when we will need to grow walls to be able to hide everything we can’t show, we live before the walls, we think we forgot about what we hid behind, we think the façade is us, we become accustomed to it, change becomes impossible, change becomes death. Then in a moment, we are reminded of what is behind the wall, we want it, we bring in the hammer and we start dismantling, the noise of deconstructing deafens us, we can’t hear the world roaring behind us. We bring the wall down, we look at “us,” at the many of “us,” we smile, we turn back to show the world what we got, but the world is standing there in silence, we are dead.[11]

For the actors involved, the process required a great deal of empathy for both sides embroiled in this ongoing conflict. Myers told me,

From the beginning of the production process, Sahar focused on insuring that all of the characters—Israelis and Palestinians alike—were first and foremost recognizably complex humans and not manifestations of a simplistic Manichaean universe. In Europe or the US that sort of approach might have seemed obvious. In Beirut, what it meant was that performers, members of the production and audience would have their preconceptions subverted in all sorts of fascinating ways.[12]

One method Assaf employed in creating this empathy was a rehearsal exercise in which all of the actors, in character, engaged in a political debate about Israel and Palestine arguing about whose cause is more just. This encouraged the actors to put aside their personal political perspectives and to view the conflict from the position of “the other.” In another exercise, the actors (still in character) raised flags and stood for the national anthems of each group. By directing the play in this manner, Assaf found the complexity of motivations for all of the characters, and “the need to understand a broad spectrum of world-views on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian divide.”[13] Despite its political nature, the production also was an attempt to create a world of equanimity that does not currently exist in her own society. Rather than ending the play with a pessimistic line that says, “Peace has evaporated, we live now in disarray, and no one knows what the future will bring,”[14] Assaf decided to end the play with a female voice singing the Muslim Adhan prayer. “I thought giving life to its characters, on its own, is winning one tiny battle towards a society where women and men can be what they really are without judgment and persecution.”[15] Jamil Khoury, Artistic Director of Silk Road Rising says of Assaf, “Not only can she bridge Arab and American theatrical landscapes, but she can honor a text and preserve a playwright’s vision, while enabling the same text to grow and rediscover itself; the published manuscript and the living, evolving story coexisting collaboratively.”[16]

            Assaf’s 2014 work titled Watch Your Step: Beirut Heritage Walking Tour was described as a “site-specific promenade performance on our memories of the civil war.”[17] The performance, conceived and directed by Assaf and written by Myers, was produced by AUB with assistance from the International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ), and marked the 39th anniversary of the start of the Lebanese Civil War. Inspired by the Argentinian play Information for Foreigners by Griselda Gambaro, Watch Your Step was created as a desire to engage Lebanese society in a process of “recuperating memories and revealing the truth about the country’s history of violence.”[18] For the performance audience members met at AUB’s Medical Gate and rode in a bus to the Khandaq al-Ghamiq neighborhood. The neighborhood, straddling Downtown Beirut and Damascus Road, was at one time the major hub for intellectuals and publishers. During the Lebanese civil war, the neighborhood was on the green line dividing East and West Beirut, and consequently suffered tremendous damage. Its architecture is a throwback to the Ottoman era and, by the mid-20th century it was once the home to upper-class Beirut families. Over time Khandaq al-Ghamiq became an area that mixed Armenians, Maronites, Greek Orthodox, Sunni and Shia residents and it is now known for its Shia character and its many foreign migrants. With the gentrification of Beirut underway, developers are eager to develop the neighborhood for startups and medium-to-small businesses, but these plans have been thwarted due to local rental laws and difficulties in removing current tenants from their homes.[19] The tour, which occurred during one weekend in May, 2014, was led in English and Arabic by Feghali and Abdul Baki. Along the way, there were several “interventions and interruptions” that were devised by the students from Assaf’s “Workshop in Theatre Production” class. Along the way the faux-tour guides pointed out the layers of graffiti on the walls, the trash bags that contained personal histories, and a lonely bride who walked up to the altar of a decimated church. Spectators were also encouraged to enter old buildings in which they viewed several performances: in one room the audience met young snipers in combat fatigues smoking and playing cards; in another room a woman wailed about her son who was disappeared during the war; and in yet another room a man and woman performed a violent dance while a cellist played in the corner. “I wanted to make a play about our memory of the civil war,” Assaf told The Daily Star. “To just say simply that we must remember. We have to look back, we have to step back in history in order for there to be a peaceful present and a peaceful future.”[20] In Assaf’s opinion, the rebuilding of downtown Beirut erased memories of the civil war, and the Khandaq al-Ghamiq area was a last physical monument to the war because it bore the scars of that conflict. Assaf found that her younger students, who were born after the civil war ended, were not taught about the war in school. “They rehabilitated all of the buildings,” she says, “but they’ve done no rehabilitation for the human beings—all the people who disappeared, all the people who lost their houses, lost their future, lost everything.”[21] In Assaf’s vision, the guides served as accomplices, human manifestation of the Lebanese amnesia regarding the war. Likewise, audiences also became accomplices by their reluctance to intervene in the various performances they witnessed, and their silent acceptance of the lies that were told. Stoughton dwrites:

A thought-provoking performance, “Watch Your Step” is amusing, enlightening and deeply sad. Allowing audiences a rare opportunity to explore the interiors of some war-ravaged Beirut buildings, it simultaneously provides an insight into the human cost of the conflict and the passive mentality that allows atrocities to happen. Far more than a simple trip down memory lane, “Watch Your Step” was a chilling wake-up call.[22]

Assaf directed a film version of the production titled Al-Khandaq which premiered at the AUB Bathish Auditorium and the Tangier ICPS 11th International Conference. Assaf’s desire for a memorial to the war is one that stands directly in opposition to many in Lebanese government and society who oppose such monuments. In her book Memorials and Martyrs in Modern Lebanon, Lucia Volk writes:

As texts and images about the civil war proliferated in various media, most scholars agreed upon two categories of amnesiacs: urban planners and political elites. Eighty-five percent of war-torn downtown Beirut, including Martyrs Square, was simply razed in order to be “redeveloped”… this postwar urban erasure proved that the Lebanese simply wanted to forget. Lebanese politicians went on record that no civil war memorial would be built.[23]

By resisting this cultural amnesia, Assaf created an ephemeral performance memorial that must, due to political and social intransigence, serve as one of the few reminders that a horrific civil war took place. Assaf says,

I truly believe that without confronting the past, without remembering the war with all its ugliness, we can never forget it. To move on we must look back. That’s what monuments are for. That’s what a war museum is for. We have none, nothing to make us remember; that’s why the war is still going on in different forms.[24]

For Assaf, it is this sense that the war is ongoing that fuels the desire to create her art. In her opinion, it is only through remembering that bloody conflict that there is any hope that it will not be repeated in the future.

Assaf has also created works that focus on her idea of the necessary rehabilitation for human beings traumatized by the war. In 2013 she collaborated with Catharsis, the Lebanese Center for Drama Therapy, to create a documentary theatre piece titled From the Bottom of My Brain. Catharsis is the first drama therapy center in the Arab region, founded in 2007 under the direction of Lebanese drama therapist and executive director Zeina Daccache. Recently Daccache has created two pieces that received great international acclaim: a 2009/2010 performance titled 12 Angry Lebanese, which was created with inmates from Lebanon’s Roumieh prison, and Scheherazade in Baabda, another performance created with female inmates of Baabda Prison. Both of these performances were filmed and distributed on DVD. Assaf’s collaboration with Daccache on From the Bottom of My Brain, was performed by residents of the Al Fanar Psychiatric Hospital in South Lebanon, and the play later premiered at Beirut’s Masrah Al-Madina. The documentary theatre piece was derived from details shared during group sessions by patients at the hospital. Daccache described the theatre as “self-revelatory performance” that emanates from the patients’ stories. According to Daccache, because both prisoners and psychiatric patients are stigmatized by Lebanese society, patients are often treated as if their mental illnesses are crimes; and worse, some patients are considered possessed by demons. The Catharsis company works to change these misperceptions, and to provide healing to those suffering with mental disorders. Daccache says, “If you want to change something in the country, it has to be the population involved who has to say it. Here, theatre is the medium for the residents to be heard.”[25] Works like 12 Angry Lebanese, Scheherazade in Baabda, and From the Bottom of My Brain are deeply empathetic pieces that seek to provide rehabilitation for the soul of a country that has seemingly forgotten its past. Although Assaf also believes drama therapy can offer a safe space for those with trauma to confront their past, it is her opinion that it is not a replacement for judicial processes and other governmental mechanisms that should address war crimes and abuses of human rights.

Assaf also directed a short independent documentary film titled So It Will Only Be a Memory…Women Fighters, which she produced and directed in 2011. For the documentary Assaf interviewed four female Lebanese fighters from different religious/political militias who recount their war experiences. The documentary footage is interspersed with musical interludes of Jacque Brel’s anti-war song “Au Suivant.” The film premiered at T-Marbouta Café & Pub and also toured to the Muranow Cinema in Warsaw, the MidEast Cut International Festival for Alternative Film and Video in Copenhagen, and the Nahwa al-Mwatinya (Towards Citizenship NGO), and Confronting Memories film series at the UMAM Documentation and Research NGO. Assaf eventually plans to create a documentary theatre piece from the hours of footage she shot for the film.

In the documentary two women from the Phalange Party, a fighter from the Syrian Social Nationalist Party, and a fighter from the Lebanese Communist Party, discuss their experiences during the war. The women tell of the resistance they faced, as female fighters, from both their families and the other male fighters with whom they served. They make it clear that women provided many services during the war from applying first aid for the wounded to cooking meals for soldiers, but the four women interviewed in the film decided that they would rather fight on the front lines. They describe comrades they lost, memories of dead and destroyed bodies, and their own physical and mental injuries. What is most striking is how they all vow to never fight another internal war against their fellow Lebanese. It seems that, given time, these women have come to a terrible reckoning about the war:

Why does this mother who has given birth and has raised a child have to receive her son in a plastic bag? The guys were put in plastic bags above each other. What is this great cause that permitted us to kill each other in this way? What is this cause? We were lost. We could not understand anything anymore.[26]

Looking to the future the women state that there can be peace in Lebanon, but only if major international powers stop intervening in the internal affairs of the country and if the former warlords (who now rule the country) stop playing political games with their rivals. “We are obliged to live with each other,” one former fighter says, “we are obliged to accept the other and vice versa, or else we will spend our life trying to eliminate each other.”[27] Despite the painful recollections seen and heard in the film, there is a hopeful message that if there are to be wars in Lebanon’s future, they will be initiated by powers outside the country but not by its citizens.

At the time of this publication Assaf is directing The Dictator by Lebanese playwright Issam Mahfouz (also translated by Myers and Saab), produced by Tahweel Theatre Ensemble and AUB Theater Initiative, which will be performed at the Between the Seas Festival in New York City in September 2015. The play, written in 1969, is an absurdist tragicomedy that dramatizes the twisted relationship between a power-mad general in a fictional Arab nation and his sycophantic servant as they plot a coup. In her desire to clarify Mahfouz’s vision, Assaf set the play in a nondescript governmental/presidential office. The touring production will also star actors Feghali and Abdul Baki. The play was written in Lebanese amiyya (colloquial dialect), as opposed to the more standard fusha (classical Arabic) found in most Arab drama. In preparation, Assaf, Abdul Baki and Feghali have spent time comparing and contrasting the original Arabic play with the English translation and are incorporating this kind of analysis as a technique for innovation in performance. Assaf says, “I personally think that today the play speaks to the political situation in Lebanon as much as it speaks to other neighboring dictatorships. The country is still ruled by the same lords who ran the civil war or at best their children. People have no affiliation to the Civil State but to those leaders, out of fear, poverty and/or ignorance.”[28] That same fear, poverty, and ignorance remains. Even as I write this article, Lebanon is having another internal crisis as trash piles up on city streets while the government remains deadlocked as to where to dump the tons of refuse.

In a time when Lebanon is working to heal its wounds from the civil war, dealing with ongoing conflicts with Israel and Hezbollah, and with the influx of millions of Syrian refugees, theatre and performance become sites of memorialization and healing. Works by companies like Catharsis, Tahweel Ensemble Theatre, and educational institutions like AUB and LAU all work to replace the absent physical monuments and truth and reconciliation commissions. Artists like Assaf, who are working in difficult conditions that range from censorship to lack of funding, create performances that provide remembrance, transformation, and healing. Assaf says,

In Lebanon, the majority lives in economically drought conditions and is so busy making a living that they forget to stop and think about what led to those bad conditions. Or they are so brainwashed and manipulated by their religious and political leaders that they fear any change they do will only lead to their destruction. I believe theatre offers an opportunity for us to reflect on our situation…The change might not be noticeable right away but the slightest transformation or realization that audience members make in the theatre as they watch a play is one step towards their liberation whether from a dictator, an oppressive system or a dogma.[29]

Her long-time collaborator Robert Myers says Assaf is “the kind of theatre artist who would be doing vital, engaging and aesthetically complex works no matter what resources were available to her. She will use whatever is at hand to make the art she needs to make, and she has as much vision, intelligence, focus and energy as anyone I know in the theatre.”[30] Her work ethic and sense of commitment has impressed those outside of Lebanon as well. Jamil Khoury says,

Perhaps more than anything, it is Assaf’s profound love for Lebanon, and her commitment to building Levantine societies that are democratic and free that drives her artistic ambitions. Her boundless courage and immense creativity leap center stage each time she plunges herself into the life of a play, dramatizing the world as she sees it alongside the world that she wishes for.[31]

At a time when Lebanon is embroiled in some of the greatest challenges in its history, theatre and performance artists have come forward at great personal and political expense to speak out against the injustice and apathy they witness in their society. Assaf’s passion for her native Lebanon and her desire to create theatre as a site of memorialization make her one of the most important theatre artists in the Arab world today.


Michael Malek Najjar is an assistant professor of theatre arts at the University of Oregon. He holds a PhD in Theatre and Performance Studies from UCLA, M.F.A. in Directing from York University (Toronto), B.A. in Theatre Arts from the University of New Mexico. He is an associate member of the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society (SDC), and an alumnus of the British/American Drama Academy (BADA), Lincoln Center Director’s Lab, Director’s Lab West, and RAWI Screenwriters’ Lab (Jordan). He directed the world premiere of Jamil Khoury’s Precious Stones and a staged reading of his own play Talib, both at the Silk Road Theatre Project, Chicago.  He is the editor of Four Arab American Plays: Works by Leila Buck, Jamil Khoury, Yussef El Guindi, and Lameece Issaq & Jacob Kader and Arab American Drama, Film and Performance: A Critical Study, 1908 to the Present published by McFarland & Co., Inc. Publishers.


[1] Sahar Assaf, e-mail interview with the author, July 28, 2015.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] “Tahweel Ensemble Theater-Mission and Founders,” .pdf document, sent via e-mail by Sahar Assaf, July 2015, 1.

[5] India Stoughton, “Humanizing the Enemy: Wannous’ The Rape,” The Daily Star, 25 March 2015, accessed July 20, 2015, http://www.dailystar.com.lb/Arts-and-Ent/Culture/2015/Mar-25/292042-humanizing-the-enemy-wannous-the-rape.ashx.

[6] Sahar Assaf, “Speaking the Unspeakable: On Directing Wannous.” Paper presented at the “On Wannous: an International Conference,” Beirut, Lebanon, April 1, 2015.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Edward Ghazaley, “‘The Rape:’ Conflict is Mutually Destructive,” Outlook, 25 March 2015, accessed 20 July, 2015, http://outlookaub.com/2015/03/25/the-rape-conflict-is-mutually-destructive-2/.

[9] Robert Myers, e-mail interview with the author, July 27, 2015.

[10] Assaf, “Speaking,” 3-4.

[11] Assaf, “Speaking,” 5-6.

[12] Robert Myers, e-mail interview with the author, July 27, 2015.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Sa’dallah Wannous, Rituals of Signs and Transformations: a Stage Play by Sa’d Allah Wannus, trans. Robert Myers and Nada Saab, MS Word document, 2013, 126.

[15] Sahar Assaf, e-mail interview with the author, July 29, 2015.

[16] Jamil Khoury, e-mail interview with the author, July 28, 2015.

[17] Sahar Assaf, “CV,” 1.

[18] “Watch Your Step: Beirut Heritage Walking Tour,” American University of Beirut. Press release, N.p.: n.d.

[19] Sahar Assaf, “Actor’s Packet Research,”7-9.

[20] India Stoughton, “Specters of War Thwart Efforts to Forget,” The Daily Star, 5 May 2014, accessed July 22, 2015. http://www.dailystar.com.lb/Culture/Performance/2014/May-05/255335-specters-of-war-thwart-efforts-to-forget.ashx

[21] Ibid.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Lucia Volk, Memorials and Martyrs in Modern Lebanon. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2010, 107-108.

[24] Sahar Assaf, e-mail interview with the author, July 29, 2015.

[25] Chirine Lahoud, “A Theater of Stigma, by the Stigmatized” The Daily Star, 7 June 2013. http://www.dailystar.com.lb/ArticlePrint.aspx?id=222729&mode=print.

[26] Assaf, Sahar. So It Will Only Be a Memory—Part 1, YouTube video, 19:50, from a documentary film posted by saharassaf, posted October 13, 2011, https://youtu.be/Uogq9AcNWXY.

[27] Ibid.

[28] Sahar Assaf, e-mail interview with the author, July 29, 2015.

[29] Ibid.

[30] Robert Myers, e-mail interview with the author, July 27, 2015.

[31] Jamil Khoury, e-mail interview with the author, July 28, 2015.


Logo_Publications

Arab Stages
Volume 2, Number 1 (Fall 2015)
©2015 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Founders: Marvin Carlson and Frank Hentschker

Editor-in-Chief: Marvin Carlson

Editorial and Advisory Board: Fawzia Afzal-Khan, Dina Amin, Khalid Amine, Hazem Azmy, Dalia Basiouny, Katherine Donovan, Masud Hamdan, Sameh Hanna, Rolf C. Hemke, Katherine Hennessey, Areeg Ibrahim, Jamil Khoury, Dominika Laster, Margaret Litvin, Rebekah Maggor, Safi Mahfouz, Robert Myers, Michael Malek Naijar, Hala Nassar, George Potter, Juan Recondo, Nada Saab, Asaad Al-Saleh, Torange Yeghiazarian, Edward Ziter.

Managing Editor: Meir A. Farjoun

Assistant Managing Editor: Nina Angela Mercer

Table of Content
Essays

  • The 2015 Egyptian National Theatre Festival by Dalia Basiouny
  • Damascus Theater Laboratory by Waseem Al Sharqy
  • The Birth of Modern Iraqi Theatre: Church Drama in Mosul in the Late Nineteenth Century by Amir Al-Azraki and James Al-Shamma
  • Theatre as an Optimistic Political Act: Lebanese Theatre Artist Sahar Assaf by Michael Malek Najjar
  • A Feminist Tuberculosis Melodrama: Melek by Painted Bird Theatre by Emre Erdem
  • Much Ado About “Theatre and Censorship Conference” by Dalia Basiouny
  • Mass Media Muslims: A Three Lens Theory of Representation by Jamil Khoury

Announcements

  • Issam Mahfouz’ The Dictator presented in New York by Marvin Carlson
  • An 1868 Egyptian Helen of Troy play published by Marvin Carlson
  • Nahda: Five Visions of an Arab Awakening
  • Malumat: Resources for Research, Writing/Publishing, Teaching, & Performing Arts compiled by Kate C. Wilson

Book Reviews

  • Muslim Rap, Halal Soaps, and Revolutionary Theatre by Karin van Nieuwkerk, ed. – A book review by Marvin Carlson
  • Arab American Drama, Film and Performance: A Critical Study, 1908 to the Present – A book review by George Potter
  • Inside/Outside: Six Plays from Palestine and the Diaspora – A book review by Michael Malek Najjar

Short Plays

  • Out of Control by Wael Qadour
  • The Village of Tishreen by Muhammad al-Maghut

www.arabstages.org
[email protected]

Martin E. Segal Theatre Center
Frank Hentschker, Executive Director
Marvin Carlson, Director of Publications
Rebecca Sheahan, Managing Director

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