By The voice behind Hind Rajab’s story can never be neutral.
Muslim Girl convened an intimate gathering at SAA Brooklyn during the director’s first visit to New York following her Academy Award nomination. Invited guests viewed the film and entered into conversation with Kaouther over cultural drinks and desserts provided by Moka&Co..
In 33 Questions, Kaouther Ben Hania goes on record about cinema as power, memory as resistance, and the refusal to flatten real pain.
What image from your latest film stays with you?
The sea.
At what point did you know you had to make this film?
When I got the blessing of Hind’s mother.
What does it cost you, emotionally, to make the films you make?
It gives me faith in the power of cinema.
Do you begin a project with anger, grief, or clarity — or does that arrive later?
I began this project with anger, grief, and a deep sense of helplessness.
What excites you more: what cinema can do or what it refuses to do?
Both.
Who is your ideal film watcher?
My ideal film watcher doesn’t look at their phone during a screening.
How do you decide when a story has to be told?
The story decides for me.
What is the line between witnessing and intrusion?
I need to write an essay about this.
When working with real trauma, what do you protect first: the subject, the truth, or yourself?
The subject.
What role does silence play in your storytelling?
Silence is where the audience begins to work.
Who controls the narrative?
It depends — which narrative?
Do you believe cinema can be neutral?
No. Never.
What happens when Western audiences encounter pain from other parts of the world?
Western audiences are not a monolithic block. What happens when they encounter pain from other parts of the world changes from one person to another.
How do you resist the pressure to make suffering consumable?
I resist by preserving complexity. Real pain is never clean. It contains contradiction, silence, awkwardness, even moments of absurdity. When you flatten it into a single emotional note, it becomes easier to consume. I refuse that flattening.
Have you ever felt pressure to compromise?
Always.
What responsibility does a filmmaker have to the story?
To make the best film possible.
Do you stay in contact with the people whose lives you document?
Yes. They become family.
Is there a moment you chose not to include because it was too much?
Yes.
How has being a Tunisian woman shaped your authority behind the camera?
Being a Tunisian woman was never a choice. Building my authority behind the camera was — and it has been daily work.
Do you feel pressure to represent more than yourself?
Yes.
When your work enters elite cultural spaces, what do you want it to accomplish?
To disturb the notion of “elite” itself. Who defines it? Who is allowed to speak there?
What do you have to say to members of Hollywood who say art shouldn’t be political?
That sentence is already deeply political.
How do you protect your inner life from the weight of the stories you carry?
I don’t.
What does justice look like in cinema?
It depends which cinema.
Do you believe films can intervene in history, or only document it?
By documenting it, they already intervene.
How do you want this film to be remembered?
As a wound.
What questions do you wish audiences asked more often?
What can I do?
What grounds you when the work becomes heavy?
Cooking.
Where do you feel safe?
When I cook.
What does rest look like for you?
Rest is when my mind stops rehearsing arguments and starts wandering.
Do you believe everything happens for a reason?
No.
When the camera is finally off, who is Kaouther?