By Farah Nabulsi and Darin Sallam are legendary Palestinian storytellers in their own right. The inspiring women are leading the beaten path of giving a voice to the experiences of the Palestinian occupation through an art medium known for transcending political and social boundaries the world over. Farah became the first Oscar-nominated Palestinian woman director when her award-winning film, “The Present,” landed in the Best Short Film category. Darin’s own work, the raw and controversial “Farha,” put Jordan on the Hollywood map as the country’s submission to the Academy Awards. In their first time meeting for this interview, our founder Amani sat down with the powerhouses of a generation for the first open conversation of its kind about the women’s previously unspoken experiences navigating the film industry, how their art transformed into therapy to manage their own grief, and why the world will never be the same after October 7. Listen to the full interview in our latest podcast episode on Muslim Girl Code.
“The Present” and “Farah” are both available to stream on Netflix.
AMANI: I think it is very important for people to resonate with your voices during everything that’s happening, so I want to start off there. Obviously, both of you are incredibly well known for your craft and for the art that you do through your visual storytelling. It would be great for us to start off with the main artistic goal behind your storytelling. What is your hope that people take away from the work that you’re doing?
FARAH NABULSI: What I can say is that I am a filmmaker who wants to make films that have depth and meaning and matter to me personally, both as a filmmaker and a creative artist, as well as a human being. I genuinely believe the best kind of films are when the filmmaker has really connected with the material. I remember reading an art critic saying, “You cannot make art without a sense of identity, but it is identity we seek in making art.” That really resonated with me. Although I am a British in the sense that I was born, raised, and educated in the UK, my blood and heritage is Palestinian — and I really connect with that identity.
It was during my travels to militarily occupied and colonized Palestine where I witnessed with my own eyes the injustice and the discrimination taking place there, and how systematic, brutal, and institutionalized it is. And, so, I think, on a sort of bigger scale, I’m connected to the stories I tell by way of my heritage.
And, that’s why I write them, right? Wanting and feeling privileged in many ways to be able to lend a voice through my artistic expression to those who have been silenced or who are on the receiving end of that oppression that I’ve witnessed is rewarding for me in that sense.
On a really personal, private level, I feel compelled to lend my artistic expression to these kinds of stories to essentially cope — like a release from my pain. I need this outlet, I need this channel and this process to cope with that injustice, what I’ve witnessed, what I’ve become acutely aware of. And so, that’s another reason why I feel like I need to tell these stories. There really is nothing more cathartic or spiritual than to create.
You were in the audience at the recent screening that I attended of “The Present.” In the iconic final scene, you can audibly hear the entire audience holding its breath in that moment of tension that you just so masterfully depicted within that one moment that anyone can connect to, so is it kind of your approach to storytelling to center those human emotions that just so happen to fall under an occupation? Or how do you negotiate that?
FH: Absolutely. When I say making films that matter to me personally, that place on Earth does matter to me, and those stories do matter to me. But what really interests and intrigues me and I like to explore are the human dynamics and relationships. When you dive into the characters and the stories, by default, they are going to connect with people and they’re going to humanize. But, I like to explore the human condition; I’m much more interested in examining the real life circumstances that drive people to take certain actions and make certain choices. I want to explore that, but, yes, in that particular place at this moment in time [storytelling had to be like this] because of my identity and because it matters to me.
Darin, I want to ask you the same question because when you and I connected, it was on the heels of the tremendous success of your film “Farha”. I remember when I first reached out to you, I was like, “Darin, it’s getting very difficult for me to bring myself to watch your film because so many of its details are identical to my family’s experience in Deir Yassin,” and you had told me that [the Deir Yassin massacre] inspired a lot of the violence, unfortunately, that had to be portrayed.
DARIN SALLAM: My main goal as an artist is to create humane, emotional films that can travel to the world, that can be universal, that people from all over the world can feel and relate to. I just want to create moments that touch people’s hearts because I believe making a film is a long journey and life is too short, and I have a fear of time. I always feel that it’s great to make movies that are entertaining. It’s good, but maybe not for me; I want to make films that can leave an impact or create a change in this world. And themes that really trigger me are injustice, women issues, coming of age — mainly humane stories of characters that I felt were silenced and were not heard. I feel that I have a duty as an artist to help them. But, my dream is to have films that really live with people and that live forever.
FH: I love that you were saying that [your films] have an impact. The idea is that, when I’m asked, “What do you want audiences to take away?” in many ways, you want to take them on this emotional journey. And as Darin said, if there are certain moments that stay with them, that they think about, that they come back to — whether in a conversation, just after the film itself, a week later, a month later, or even years later, who knows — then something has really been achieved on that front.
DS: One hundred percent. Some people would contact me after a few months and tell me, “This moment is still with me from the film.” To me, this is amazing. This is exactly why we make films: for these moments and these emotions to stay with people. When I make films, emotions are number one. I can’t make a film unless I really feel haunted by this idea, this character, this feeling, this urge to tell the story and share it with the world. I need to have this urge because it’s a long journey. It’s very exhausting and draining, so you need to really believe in and want to tell this story.
FH: Absolutely. If you don’t have the passion for it, you’ll throw in the towel. Or, you’ll get to the finish line with a half-assed project because you just had to finish it, or whatever other reasons. But, if you’re going to really get to the finish line in full force, you need to feel the passion for the project.
DS: Passion is the golden word. I always say that in this industry, there are some people in it for fame, and these people will not continue the journey because fame will take a lot of time. It’s a long, long journey and some can’t handle it. But, people who are in this industry for the passion will be able to keep going, and will have the patience because the intention behind the work and the intention inside of the filmmaker is really, really important. The audience is smart enough to feel it and know it.
When you say that you need to have the passion in order to really make it to the finish line and get through the work, what are some of the things that are the biggest impediments in getting to that finish line? Why is it that you need to have that conviction in order to survive and what makes it so exceptionally challenging as Palestinian women in this art?
DS: Why do you need to finish the work as a woman? It’s like giving birth. You can’t stop in the middle; you need to see this baby that you are longing to see, to hug, and to show to the world. It’s part of who you are, and you need to protect it until the very last minute. This is why, when you were also saying, Farah, that [the emotional journey is important], I feel the same way. As a Palestinian woman, I think there is [a stereotypical script to flip]. Some people didn’t believe that the director of Farha is a woman because it has courage, and it’s daring. I was shocked.
FH: Making it in independent cinema, regardless of whether you are Palestinian or not, is extremely difficult and hard. I don’t think my challenge is anything related to me being Palestinian to be honest. Let’s put aside independent filmmaking because that’s the challenge of fundraising and literally training your stamina and your endurance like almost an athlete — it’s an endurance test. In independent cinema, you are wearing various hats and it’s exhausting.
My story is that, again, I am British-Palestinian, but even as a Palestinian, that’s never been an issue for me; it’s more that the stories I’m telling are Palestinian stories set in Palestine. You have a big majority of the film industry that isn’t necessarily particularly excited or interested in supporting films on that subject, whether it be from the development stage to the production stage, or to the distribution stage. And I know that [reality] going into every film I make — and that’s okay. That’s self-inflicted because I am choosing to tell those particular stories set in that place on that subject. So I go in with my eyes wide open. On the woman’s side of things, it’s certainly having to grapple with a very male-dominated industry across the board all over the world. That doesn’t mean I don’t have women on my set, potentially heads of departments, but it’s a more male-dominated industry globally. I worked in a very male-dominated industry before when I was in investment banking, so I am very used to that kind of atmosphere. I think I have learned how to maneuver myself and deal with it maybe because I have had that prior experience. So, I would say the real part where you need to have the passion to survive is more just because you are making independent cinema.
Darin, has that been your experience?
DS: I’m Jordanian from Palestinian roots, so I didn’t face any struggle because of my Palestinian identity, but because of the content of my film, specifically because, yes, there are many films about Palestine, but specifically with “Farha” it talks about Nakba. With financing the film, one of the reasons why it was really difficult is that people, individuals and organizations were terrified to associate their names with a Nakba film. They were so scared. But, also, another reason [was] that, according to them, Palestine is not trendy — Syria is. That was when I was writing the first draft: I wrote it in 2016 and the film was shot in 2019. To them, it was like, “Make it a Syrian girl now. Syria is more fashionable.” This is why you have to be very loyal to your story and not change with everything and everybody that’s saying something or suggesting something. [Also,] not believing in my creative vision was one of the things that really was a struggle. But I think the climax in the struggle of “Farha”’s journey was just before the release of the film on Netflix. It was the same time when the film was nominated to represent Jordan in the Oscars race, and when the Israeli government launched this attack and this campaign against the film to harm it and to lower the rating On IMDb.
FH: Yeah. I had an IMDb weird scenario with “The Present.” It was like all these wonderful ratings from people, and then at once, a whole bunch of 1-star ratings just appeared overnight — loads of them. It was like, “Well, obviously this is a unified attack.”
Farah, you had mentioned that most of the challenges that you face you don’t feel are necessarily connected to your Palestinian identity, but I kind of want to go back to that a little bit because I’m very much looking at this from the lens of what’s happening in Hollywood. We’ve seen with major agents, talents, people that are legendary within the TV and the film business are preemptively cast away by the industry for something as the bare minimum like calling for ceasefire or saying that there could be a genocide going on here. Do you feel that you have experienced that kind of alienation from Hollywood? Or do you feel like it hasn’t affected you because you’ve plowed through it regardless?
FN: I think with October 7th and the following first few weeks, there was a knee jerk reaction in some ways that wasn’t necessary. It was led by pure outrage, emotion, anger and even elements of revenge. Unfortunately, a number of people obviously were on the receiving end of that. And that is absolutely wrong. And in some ways, ever since, they’ve been vindicated for anything they might have said in that time. So it’s a shame that they had to pay that price, which was unfair in the first place. After October 7th, I think there was an even bigger recoiling moment, where it was like, pull away, and that was a little bit scary to be honest, especially when you spent four years of your life working [on a film project] towards this moment. Then, one month after that moment, the world is imploding in many ways.
Since then, I just haven’t had the focus or energy for that. I mean, it’s paralyzed us, we’re completely immersed in grief, and I just can’t focus, to be honest, on other projects. I’m forced to focus on “The Teacher,” because it’s my current existing project that is in the process of its release, so I can’t abandon that. But, it feels ridiculous releasing it while this cruel massacre and deliberately inflicted humanitarian crisis is playing out on our screens. At the same time, I’ve never been more proud to be a Palestinian, and I feel so proud to have made this film. It’s a deeply human story that is basically set in this violent, brutal, unjust reality that has been endured by Palestinians for decades, that has arrived at a very crucial juncture in the discourse on Palestine. And I feel actually really grateful that I can start to share this film at this moment in time. For me, this is my cinema of resistance at this moment.
When answering the question that I had about artistic goals, both of you touched upon the humanity of the Palestinian people. And it feels like this burden that’s placed on Palestinian storytellers to have to humanize our people. But that obviously has strewn itself to be a very important part of the work that both of you do. I want to bring it back to the question of the role of TV and film within the Palestinian struggle. What do you think that role looks like? What is the purpose of this form of art within our struggle?
DS: I think film and cinema is a very important medium and it can be used as a tool to educate people and to create awareness around the world. As filmmakers, carrying these voices and stories of the Palestinians to the screen is crucial to maintain our existence because it’s a powerful form of resistance. For example, with “Farha,” it created awareness in a way I didn’t expect, [so much so] that people would be leaving the theater, googling Nakba, learning about Nakba. And I didn’t expect that, to be honest. It’s how we preserve our history and our culture. It’s just our duty to open the world’s eyes through our art and through what we can do and what we’re good at.
FN: For me, I think that cinema has a role to play in all struggles. A really good example is the role of cinema resistance with regards to apartheid South Africa and the role that cinema resistance had in bringing down apartheid South Africa to the point that I believe there are modules at universities to study that. For me, cinema really is one of the most powerful and beautiful means of meaningful human communication and art forms the world has ever known, that really does have the power to overcome misconceptions and misperceptions and challenge stereotypes and really raise the global social conscience.
DS: You can be objective, but it doesn’t change anything. And I believe that it makes you, somehow, a coward as an artist. If you want people, the audience, to feel with you and to be touched by your film, you need to be brave enough to have a point of view that you’re not afraid to share. I think one of the audience once told me that you can read a book, you can look at a painting, but with film, you feel something, and when you feel something, this feeling stays with you forever. They can read and they can maybe check facts, but when you feel something, it’s different.
With this journey that we’re all on right now, the way that October 7th has impacted the work that we’re all doing, what’s your hope of the direction that Palestinian film and cinema heads on from here? If there was a message that you would want to express to your colleagues in Hollywood, what would you hope that takeaway is?
FN: My hope is that all this pain and tragedy amounts to something where we can actually see an end to this oppression and injustice and ultimately reach a place of liberation. And then from there we can, as artists potentially be making films that have got to do with happier, more hopeful themes and stories and heal in some ways. There’s a lot of trauma to be healed. That’s what I hope for. But we are in very dark times.
I don’t know what’s really coming. My hope for people of the industry is to be courageous and be visionary to really support these stories. I believe that true visionaries who come on board and support stories, like “The Teacher” as an example, will actually not be disappointed and they will be pleasantly surprised that we’re in a world where actually people do want to engage and experience. There is an interest and an intrigue and a desire to experience such stories from these parts of the world, if you like. And so, [the takeaway is] not to shy away from that, to be visionary and to take that chance. I think they’d be very pleasantly surprised.
DS: If I want to tell one thing to the artists, I would say, “Be on the right side of history.” And I will say something that I wrote on my Instagram: “An artist without values has no value.” It’s killing me to see artists being afraid, and this is why I mentioned being courageous, because as an artist, you need to have humanity. It’s not fighting for Palestine only; it’s fighting for humanity, for justice, and for basic human rights. The Palestinian cause is not political; it’s a humane cause. And this is why I ask them to be on the right side of history.
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