Review: ‘A Beautiful Life’ on Netflix tells a time-worn story
Updated 22 June 2023
Gautaman Bhaskaran
CHENNAI: Some viewers may crib about Mehdi Avaz's “A Beautiful Life” on Netflix, complaining that it is based on a rags-to-riches plot that has been repeated ad nauseam. However, the intimate nature of the film, as well as its sparkling lead do lend some winning points.
An unlikely candidate for stardom, Elliott is a fisherman with a mellifluous voice who is discovered by music manager Suzanne (played by Christine Albeck Børge) and her daughter Lily (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas), a talented music composer. Played with charming ease by Danish singer Christopher Nissen, Elliott leads an awful life as a fisherman, bickering and quarrelling with his mates, but when his voice is discovered he is hesitant. Soon, Elliott realises the precariousness of his present existence and understands what his voice could fetch him.
It is fascinating to see how Elliott tackles the recognition of the pitfalls of fame, talent and love. It’s a tad overdone and not very original, with a number of predictable arcs in the storytelling, but “A Beautiful Life” does have its moments of ecstasy.
And as for the music, the melodies do little justice to Christopher's voice, which is quite powerful. A bit of disappointing effort, “A Beautiful Life” could have been much better had it had something different to say, rather than run a plot line close to Lady Gaga-starring “A Star is Born.”
‘I began to question everything,’ says Cannes award-winner Mohamed Kordofani
The Sudanese filmmaker gave up a comfortable career in Bahrain to make movies that could shed light on his homeland’s deep divides. He’s now a Cannes award-winner
Updated 23 June 2023
William Mullally
DUBAI: Great art often raises more questions than answers. In the case of “Goodbye Julia,” the Saudi-backed film that won the first-ever Freedom Award at the Cannes Film Festival last month, those questions were born in a single historic moment.
It was February 7, 2011, and Sudanese filmmaker Mohamed Kordofani was sitting with his family in Khartoum as they read out the results to the South Sudanese independence referendum. His country was quite literally split in two and, as his shock turned to shame, a long search for truth began — one that would upend his entire life and turn him into one of the region’s most promising storytellers.
“Something sparked inside of me. Why would 99 percent of a whole nation vote to separate? I couldn’t fathom it, and I began to question everything — about my society, my upbringing, and even myself,” Kordofani tells Arab News.
Kordofani addresses the crowd after receiving the Freedom Award for 'Goodbye Julia' at the Cannes Film Festival on May 26. (AFP)
“I was brought up in a typical Eastern Sudanese household, and the traditions and norms I inherited from previous generations made me think that racism was just a normal part of life. I hadn’t realized the true damage that everyday hate could cause. I had been so confident in my ignorance. I told myself, ‘No more.’ And I’m a better person now because of it,” he continues.
Truth be told, Kordofani had never wanted to be a filmmaker. In fact, at the time of the secession, he was working in Bahrain as an aircraft engineer, settled in a seemingly comfortable life in which he could safely start a family. He was never a cinephile and had no great interest in the artform. But as he wrestled with the deep flaws within himself and his home country, his ideas began to take narrative shape.
“It’s funny to me that I found myself at Cannes when I didn’t come from a cinema background like so many of my peers. I have impostor syndrome about this — wondering why I’m here when so many others are not. Growing up, I watched movies like everyone else, sure, but that was it,” says Kordofani. “I wrote stories for myself in university, but no one would ever read what I wrote. I didn’t know anything about cinema, but I chose filmmaking because I realized it was a tool I could use to tell my stories to biggest audience possible.”
Kordofani on set filming 'Goodbye Julia.' (Supplied)
For years, Kordofani led a double life. He would use his annual leave and dip into his savings to make short films, screening them for the local community to great acclaim before traveling back to his workaday life in Manama. By 2020, he realized he had to make a choice: continue with the life that had been prescribed him, or follow what had become his passion. He chose the latter.
“When you’re married and have kids, switching careers can be very scary, but, honestly, I was miserable,” he says. “I said, ‘You only live once’ and, at age 37, I left engineering behind to start a production company at a time when there was no film industry in Sudan. I burned all my bridges, cancelled my engineering license, and put myself on a new path.”
By that time, his efforts to make “Goodbye Julia” were well underway. The idea had come to him at home in Bahrain one night, as he and his wife argued over whether they should get a live-in maid to help around the house. The idea repulsed Kordofani.
“I thought the whole setup was unfair. These people work for a long time, often have no off-days, and it all sounded to me like slavery. It took me back to growing up in Sudan, and the help that we had around the house that wasn’t much different — always made up of people from the south of the country. It made me think back to the separation in 2011, and the plot started forming in my mind,” he explains.
L to R) Actor Ger Duany, producer Amjad Abu Alala, producer Mohammed Alomda, director Mohamed Kordofani, director of photography Pierre de Villiers, editor Heba Othman, actresses Eman Youssef and Siran Riak. (AFP)
The film follows two women from the north and south of Sudan respectively — Mona, a retired singer racked with guilt for causing a man’s death, and another named Julia, the man’s widow. Mona offers Julia — who doesn’t know about Mona’s involvement in her late husband’s death — a job as her maid in order to atone for her misdeeds, against the wishes of her husband Akram, who is open in his resentment of southerners.
In early drafts, Kordofani was unsatisfied with how one-dimensional all the characters felt. “I was writing with my engineering mentality,” he says. “All of them were binary — zero or one, black or white. It wasn’t until draft three or four that I actually felt I understood that the film wasn’t just about separation. I had to not only delineate their differences, but reconcile them, and reconciliation is about understanding.
“I had to learn to stop judging them, and empathize. That was not hard to do, because they are me,” he continues. “Each of them, from the conservative husband Akram to the socially progressive wife Mona, were a reflection of my own points of view at one time in my life or another, back when I felt I was a victim of my society. And they turned from black-and-white to gray, and that turned them into a good catalyst for dialogue.”
As his script progressed, Kordofani began pitching the film internationally, but found that the predominantly white decisionmakers couldn’t fathom the racial divide of his home nation.
“In one pitch session in Portugal, the first question was, ‘I don’t understand. You are black. And the southerners are black as well. So you’re talking about black-on-black racism? How does that work?’ I responded, ‘Yeah, if this were a comedy, we’d call it “50 Shades of Black,”’ Kordofani says wryly.
The film has found instant success coming off its Cannes debut — it is the first Sudanese film ever to screen at the storied festival — scoring big deals for theatrical releases in countries across the world. Ultimately, though, Kordofani made the film with Sudanese audiences in mind.
After all, part of the reason that he imbued the film with so much complexity — why he asks hard questions without reaching for easy answers — is that he wants to inspire discussion in Sudan, hoping to bridge the divides that continue to plague the country as it verges on a civil war that Kordofani believes is caused by the same underlying social illness as the 2011 secession was.
“We’re a divided people. Political division, ethnic division, and tribal division have always been the root cause of all our problems,” he says.
Kordofani, meanwhile, has begun to accept that he truly is a filmmaker, and a stamp of approval from Cannes could mean he’ll be able to tell stories for the rest of his life. He’s come to terms with the fact that he doesn’t have the answers, whether in politics or his art, and that his journey to find them will continue for years to come. Indeed, accepting his own imperfections may be the big answer he was always looking for.
“When I finished the final scene, I cried so much. We were we were on a bus from Kosti to Khartoum, a five-hour ride, and I think I cried the whole ride,” he says. “It hit me that my intention was to make a film that may change people. And I found out that I was the one who was changed the most by making this film. I feel I finally understood myself.”
REVIEW: ‘Black Mirror’ is back — dark and as frighteningly plausible as ever
Updated 22 June 2023
Adam Grundey
DUBAI: The current boom in anthology series — no self-respecting streaming platform, it seems, can be without one — is due in great part to “Black Mirror,” the prescient sci-fi/horror/black-comedy show from writer and director Charlie Brooker.
It has just returned for its sixth season — five episodes that mine the existential fears of modern life (lack of privacy, the reverence for algorithms over creativity, what’s ‘real’ in a world of increasingly human-like machines and AI… that kind of thing) and the ancient terrors that have been part of humanity since its origins: Can we ever really know the true nature of even those closest to us? How far will anyone go in pursuit of accumulating more possessions or wealth? It’s not cozy viewing. But it is compelling.
The latest series begins with the nightmarish “Joan is Awful,” in which bored, mostly miserable HR manager Joan (Annie Murphy) sits down to watch a show of the same name on a streaming platform, Streamberry (which looks very much like Netflix), only to discover that it’s a dramatization of her own life (in fact, a replay of that day’s events, including verbatim conversations) starring Salma Hayek as Joan and ‘tweaked’ to present Joan in the worst possible way. As her life falls apart, she discovers that — thanks to the terms and conditions she agreed to when she subscribed to Streamberry — not only can she do nothing to prevent this invasion of her privacy, she’s not even getting paid for it. And Streamberry, it turns out, has similar plans for hundreds of thousands of its subscribers. It’s familiar ground for “Black Mirror,” but none the less powerful for that.
Second episode “Loch Henry” is a fairly straightforward (though immensely unsettling) horror story that includes some thought-provoking commentary on the commercialization of true crime stories and how little consideration seems to be given to how they may affect those on whom the original events had the most impact.
Episode three, “Beyond The Sea,” stars Aaron Paul and Josh Hartnett as two astronauts in an alternate-reality 1960s. While they are up in their spaceship, they can link their minds to inhabit their replicas back on Earth. Things don’t go smoothly.
Season six features stellar performances from stars and soon-to-be stars, and the plot twists are as sharp as ever. It lacks a stand-out episode to match the best of past “Black Mirror,” but Brooker’s dystopian visions remain some of the highest quality TV around.
‘It’s surreal,’ says Saudi Arabia’s first opera singer Sawsan Albahiti
Updated 22 June 2023
Rawaa Talass
DUBAI: “Pioneering” is an often-overused term, particularly in regional media. But in the case of Sawsan Albahiti, it is entirely accurate.
Born in Riyadh, Albahiti is Saudi Arabia’s first opera singer. It’s a title that she accepts comes with a great deal of responsibility, and one that — at times — she still finds hard to believe.
“It’s going to take me a while to get over this surrealness of being a Saudi opera singer,” the soprano, who is in her 30s, tells Arab News. “Sometimes it overwhelms me, because I have to be the best. Locally, I represent opera to the Saudi audience, and globally, I represent Saudi to the opera world — and the rest of the world, really.”
Albahiti’s extraordinay journey began while she was studying mass communications at the American University of Sharjah in the UAE. She took opera as an elective course. Back then, she had no idea what it would lead to.
“(A career in music) was not on the horizon. . . not at all,” she says. It was the course’s choir conductor who noticed her singing potential and that’s when everything changed. She went on to train with vocal coaches, but still has no formal music qualification.
But it seems that she doesn’t need one. Music has been a major part of her life from the start, she says. In 1990, when she was 2, her family moved to Jeddah, growing up in a music-loving household that echoed with the revered voices of Umm Kulthum, Fayrouz, and Abdel Wahab, as well as the timeless melodies of Mozart and Chopin. Albahiti was, she says, a typical Nineties kid, whose collection of cassette tapes included the Backstreet Boys, Dido and Sarah McLachlan.
Albahiti is the youngest of seven children, and her interest in music was further sparked when her sister started playing the guitar. Albahiti decided she also wanted to play, and began doing so aged 6.
“I remember from the time I was in elementary school, I’d come home, and I wouldn’t even take off my uniform. I’d pick up my guitar and play and sing,” she says. “Music was everywhere. And whether I’m playing it or listening to it, it’s a part of me.”
It quickly became clear that Albahiti possessed an excellent ear for music. “I was able to listen to a song and play it on the guitar,” she says. “I’d automatically analyze what chords this music was made up of and I’d play it straight away. My ability to hear music was quite strong.”
Albahiti is the youngest of seven children. (Supplied)
While her interest in pop music and the guitar grew, Albahiti found herself inspired by legendary opera singers such as Maria Callas, Luciano Pavarotti, and Andrea Bocelli. She was also particularly drawn to Sarah Brightman’s genre-hopping style of singing (the English soprano has sung disco, musical theater, classical crossover and operatic pop in her hugely successful career), and has implemented it in her own repertoire.
As for Bocelli, Albahiti got to meet the man himself ahead of one of his performances in AlUla. “I was over the moon when that happened,” she recalls. “When I told him that he’d inspired me to pursue opera, he got really emotional.”
Albahiti’s own career is still in its early stages. A decade ago, she was working in an unfulfilling marketing job and listening to recordings of her vocal training as an “escape.” But the prospect of becoming a professional singer in Saudi Arabia at that time was practically non-existent.
“If, 10 years ago, someone had told me I’d become an opera singer, I’d have never believed them,” she says with a laugh. And yet, in 2019 she made the shift into full-time music. That was the year she made her official debut in Saudi Arabia, singing her country’s national anthem in an operatic style ahead of the opening of La Scala di Milano’s show in Riyadh.
“It was overwhelming to say the least,” she says. “I later found out that I was the first Saudi woman to sing the anthem publicly.”
Some of her favorite numbers to sing, she says are “Habanera” (an aria from Bizet’s comic opera “Carmen”), the classic Neapolitan song “O Sole Mio,” and “O Mio Babbino Caro” from Puccini’s opera “Gianni Schicchi.” She also entertains the crowd by singing in Arabic and tries to incorporate Arabic instruments into her shows.
While opera’s popularity has waned over the years, its powerful vocals and dramatic themes of love, revenge, power, death, and war mean it still captivates audiences across the world.
“When the singer is trying to express a strong emotion, it really affects the listener intensely. That intensity is what people go back (to opera) for, over and over again,” says Albahiti.
“What (hits) me most about opera is the power of expression through the voice, and the amount of skill required,” she adds. “When people hear opera, they think the singers are screaming. We’re not. The trick is to direct the voice (with) your whole face, not just your mouth. Perfecting that is really difficult.”
Opera singers need to be borderline-fanatical about taking care of their voices, and Albahiti is no exception. She trains — and hydrates, she adds — constantly, doesn’t smoke, and before a show she avoids perfumes and aerosol sprays. As for criticism, as someone who hasn’t followed the traditional career path of an opera singer, she admits that “at weak moments, it bothers me,” but she perseveres, learning along the way.
She’s also eager to foster the kind of creative community that was lacking in the Kingdom when she was growing up, when, she says, “there was barely music in cafes and restaurants.” In 2019, she founded a school, The Soulful Voice, at which she is one of the vocal coaches, and at the Saudi Music Commission she is leading the establishment of the Saudi National Orchestra and Choir.
She is currently planning performances in London, Milan, and Riyadh and is looking forward to helping launch the Saudi Opera House in 2026. It’s all part of her main goal: “To elevate singers’ skills and improve the music scene in Saudi Arabia.”
Meet the Middle Eastern voice actress from Pixar’s ‘Elemental’
Shila Ommi’s role as the mother of an immigrant family resonated deeply. ‘It helped me understand what my parents went through,’ she says
Updated 22 June 2023
William Mullally
DUBAI: Shila Ommi had always dreamed of starring in a Pixar film. For the last three decades, the Disney-owned studio has been the apex of animation, turning out masterpiece after masterpiece of fantastical yet deeply personal stories that resonate the world over. For a voice actor, there is no higher aspiration. Imagine her surprise, then, when she finally got the call, and it turned out she was being asked to tell a story so close to her own.
“I could not believe my great fortune, nor the blessings that were being shined on me from above. I just had tears in my eyes right away,” Ommi tells Arab News.
The film is “Elemental,” now showing in cinemas across the Middle East. It’s an immigrant story set in a universe where the elements of fire, water, earth and air have come to life. Ommi plays Cinder — a fire element who moves to Element City in search of a better life for her daughter, Ember.
“Elemental” is now showing in cinemas across the Middle East. (Supplied)
Forty-five years ago, Ommi was just like young Ember, fleeing unrest in her home country of Iran for Los Angeles along with her mother and father, who sacrificed everything for her future.
“Ember resonated so much with me. She has such weight on her shoulders, and I think that’s how all children of immigrants feel. Your family gave up so much for you to have a better life, and that gives all of us a burden, a guilt, and a deep sadness,” says Ommi.
In the film, Ember is struggling with mental health issues she’s unable to define, until a chance meeting with water element Wade Ripple helps her discover that she’s been living out her parent’s dreams for her, without ever considering what she really wants. In playing Cinder, Ommi was on the other side of that struggle for the first time in her life, playing a surrogate for both the Korean-American director Peter Sohn’s mother and her own.
“It absolutely helped me understand what my parents went through. At the same time, I’m a total mama’s girl, and I always had such a deep love for them that I was in their shoes, empathetically. I was always observing, and seeing what they were going through, and going through so much of it with them,” says Ommi.
The film is also a love story, as Ember and Wade strike up a romance despite their parents having always told them that fire and water can’t mix.
“Ember is this feisty, quick-witted, angry, beautiful, young 20-something woman and she finds this unlikely friendship with Wade, who's this sappy, emotional, empathetic, sweet guy. She comes to see that whatever their differences are, there are so many more similarities between them than they realize,” says Ommi.
As their connection deepens, and as Ember’s mother Cinder starts to realize the pureness of their bond, the story ultimately becomes an ode to how much better the world can be when we open ourselves up to other cultures and celebrate our differences.
“The film’s message is that we become better when we come together,” says Ommi. “There's an alchemy that happens when people of different backgrounds come together, regardless of what that background is, and it is absolutely beautiful.”
The film is heavily inspired by the Middle East as well, with the home country, script and language of the fire people drawn from regional languages and cultures. Even the region’s architecture makes it into the film, with the central building in the film’s primary setting of Element City modeled after the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.
For Ommi, the region was on her mind constantly while making the film, not just because of her own origins, but as the region itself is a melting pot of different cultures.
“I happen to be an immigrant living in the United States, but there’s barely a country on earth that doesn’t have its share of people who have come from abroad to live there. People who are born and raised in a country are blessed, but I always encourage them to open their heart to outsiders, because there is a chance that they are going to make their lives better,” says Ommi.
“People who come from elsewhere will always try to make their host country proud, I think. They always want to be able to do great things and show that they are contributing. I’m that way, my family is that way, and I know a lot of other people are that way,” she continues. “We’re all better united in our humanity.”
‘Paper Empire’ season 3 to be filmed in Saudi Arabia
Updated 21 June 2023
Arab News
DUBAI: Film AlUla announced on Wednesday that the production team of the cryptocurrency drama “Paper Empire” will film the entirety of the show’s 10-episode third season in Saudi Arabia’s AlUla.
The high-profile cast will feature Robert Davi, Denise Richards, Kelsey Grammar, Carole Alt, Helena Mattsson, Wesley Snipes, Anne Archer, Richard Grieco, Robert Knepper, Steve Guttenberg and more.
The action-drama series, based entirely in the region, is produced by Robert Gillings Productions, Tadross Media Group and Inner Circle Films.
The series is produced by Robert Gillings, Michael Tadross Jr, Bernard Salzman and Edward Pershing who have already embarked on pre-production activities in AlUla, with filming set to commence later this year.
Charlene Deleon-Jones, the executive director of Film AlUla, said in statement: “We are delighted the ‘Paper Empire’ team will be basing their new season in AlUla, we’ve worked with the creative team to provide locations which underscore the glamour, opulence and world-class production value of the series.”
Tadross Jr added: “After visiting AlUla earlier this year, we immediately knew we had to film here. The incredible landscapes and incomparable scenery are a perfect backdrop for the narrative’s progression, as the stakes become higher and more suspenseful, and the characters journey outside the US for the first time.”
“We are very much looking forward to working with an experienced team at Film AlUla and are sure the cast are going to be just as blown away by the setting as we were,” he added.
