The Film “At Studio Misr”... A New Wave to the Film Strip

Like people and their phases, entities flourish. Their lights shine and fade; they become active and subside, leaving the observer no choice but to contemplate them. In her film “At Studio Misr,” Mona Asaad observes how this studio began as a giant, how it developed, withered, was revived, resisted, and eventually declined. We see the fate of national industries and watch the dreams of a group of filmmakers to restore the glory of Egyptian cinema go up in smoke. The film stirs filmmakers’ emotions as it raises questions about the film industry and its future, such as: Will the use of film stock come to an end? Will modern technology and digitization consume celluloid film until it has no place and becomes history? Will this artistic medium disappear and make way for digital technologies, or might digital technology itself take its place?

Mona Asaad begins her film by capturing cinema as pure pleasure, presenting young children playing as they sing a song: “O girls of Alexandria... Studio Misr statues... a picture or the real thing?!”

Asaad captures the dream in this song, which belongs to children’s folklore. It points to the image and the original, to the oscillation between reality and its reflection, and between fact and imagination... Is cinema not the same?

In her film, she follows the experience of director and producer Karim Gamal El-Din in purchasing Studio Misr after it was put up for sale among the companies subjected to privatization. The camera follows the handover committee’s minutes from the holding company and the attempts of eleven of his friends to dissuade him from buying this entity, whose facilities had deteriorated, whose studios had been ruined, and of which only a distant echo of glory remained.

Mona Asaad interviews members of the Elixir company team as they move to Studio Misr and documents how they receive the new location. How did the editors overcome the technical difficulties of switching to digital equipment when some of them used to consider it an “Atari”?

The film is filled with audio clips and soundtracks drawn from the cinematic heritage of Egyptian films, in addition to scenes from some of the most famous films. Asaad used them well and effectively in her documentary narrative.

Transformations:

In one of the film’s interviews, the late critic Samir Farid sums up the matter by saying: “What happened to Studio Misr is what happened to Egypt... what happened to Egypt in 1952.” He sheds light on the nationalization process the studio underwent and the state’s acquisition of it and Mohamed Fawzi Studio as well. Asaad draws attention to the fact that Studio Misr covered 17 feddans in 1935, while the buildings occupied only 8 feddans, which were handed over to Elixir. The remaining area was allocated for growing cucumbers and tomatoes.

Mona Asaad follows how the beginnings were promising and how, under its new management, the studio took on the production of documentaries for Tahani Rached, with “These Girls” becoming the first documentary produced by the studio to go to the Cannes Film Festival. This coincided with the studio’s move into fiction production, resulting in the release of “We Met Before,” directed by Hisham El Shafie, written by Nadine Shams, and starring Asser Yassin.

Although the circumstances at the time seemed highly encouraging, the inclusion of the film “Love in Karnak” was consistent with the documentation of the establishment of Studio Misr in its new form. Asaad moves between scenes of constructing the stage on which the Reda Troupe would dance in Luxor and the constant activity at Studio Misr. She presents films that were being shot at the studio, such as “Gazelle’s Blood,” directed by Mohamed Yassin with set design by Adel Maghrabi. She also presents the set of “Ibrahim El-Abyad,” designed by Ansy Abu Seif in 2008 as the largest set built at the studio. Meanwhile, “Chaos,” with a set designed by Hamed Hamdan, had the largest interior set constructed at Studio Misr.

The Laboratory

In 1999, Karim Gamal El-Din decided to establish a processing laboratory at the studio. One of the laboratory technicians discusses the situation before modernization, noting that by 1973 the equipment had been worn out, if not by commercial films then by Arab television series that were produced in film form. The chemist describes the building that was renovated, the spaces prepared for printing and processing, and the screening room that was built, in addition to the renewal of the ventilation and air-conditioning system and the provision of a healthy environment for workers. The laboratory returned to work after having stopped, once known derisively as the “dirt laboratory.” But this revival did not last long. The state entered into competition with the studio through competitive prices at the Media Production City laboratory, and Studio Misr’s laboratory faced the loss of producer clients who had their films printed at the studio. The number of films produced began to decline in 2009, as Egyptian cinema was affected by the global crisis and the economic crisis prevented investment in the film industry. Filming and projection technology also changed extremely rapidly, and the process ultimately culminated in the 2011 revolution.

Asaad ends her film with the departure of the studio’s artistic director, who gathers his files in preparation for leaving and emigrating from the country. Circumstances changed, cinema changed, and no horizon remained after the losses suffered by the studio, which could have continued had the industry enjoyed healthier conditions. But Asaad does not leave us in this bleak state. Instead, she opens a small door to hope, affirming that the industry must continue because films will remain, as will dreams.

* Shown at the Carthage Cinematographic Days 2019 and at Zawya Cinema in March 2020.

Mona Asaad is an Egyptian director. She studied medicine and entered the film industry when she worked with the medical support team on “Farewell Bonaparte,” directed by Youssef Chahine. She later worked as an assistant director with Yousry Nasrallah and Radwan El-Kashef, and also worked as an executive producer on several documentaries. Mantiqti met her after a screening of her film “At Studio Misr” as part of the March program at Zawya Cinema.

* You were part of the medical team for the film “Farewell Bonaparte.” What was that experience like?

The film was one of the first co-productions between Misr International Films and France. One of the French side’s conditions was that medical support be available. I was a doctor, spoke French, and knew the team. At the time, I was working at the Serum and Vaccine Authority and preparing my master’s thesis. My duties on the film involved first aid and treating extras’ injuries, which gave me the opportunity to see the film’s behind-the-scenes work and get closer to the world of cinema.

* Did your career change after this film?

No. It happened 12 years later. At the time, I was a doctor at the Serum and Vaccine Authority, which was on its way to privatization, and I realized then that my ambitions in medicine were questionable.

* Doesn’t this resemble what happened with “Studio Misr”?

Indeed, but in reverse... I found myself leaving the public sector to work for a private-sector company, Elixir, which, ironically, was moving toward purchasing a public-sector institution. If that is not dramatic or inspiring, it is at least “lighthearted.”

* In the film, we saw footage of your first visit to “Studio Misr,” your discovery of the disastrous conditions, and your negotiations with the engineer responsible for the studio. These are all precise and striking details. Did you have an early intention to make a film about this event? When did you decide to make it?

The decision to make the film came when the company’s artistic director decided to leave and I sensed that there was a dramatic story in front of me. I wanted to record what had happened so that no one would say we had “ruined” the studio. The motivation was my feeling that there was an experience that had to be documented, and if I did not tell it, no one else would. (I am the one who knows the filmed material, I am the one who knows the people, and I am the one who cares about telling this.) What you refer to in the film was not our first visit to the studio. The handover process took a long time because of the many details related to the agreement, and I had decided to document the studio’s condition, which is what happened. The film took from 2014 to 2018 to complete, but not continuously.

* You worked with several directors: Youssef Chahine, Yousry Nasrallah, Radwan El-Kashef, and Tahani Rached. What is the most prominent artistic characteristic of each of them?

El-Kashef is “playful,” although he does not seem that way. He has a good relationship with actors and lets them suggest what they have, unlike Yousry Nasrallah, who is extremely precise and holds many rehearsals with actors. I worked with Tahani Rached, who insisted on working with a small crew. My role was to make her tasks easier.

* Why did you choose documentary film as your first directing experience? Does fiction attract you?

Fiction has many problems. It requires a script, actors, and a large budget. Documentary, in the end, in the kind of films we make, has a limited budget. The beautiful thing about documentary is that a good documentary makes real people into dramatic characters.

* The film addresses the absence of a cinematheque in Egypt. Is there still a need for one?

The negatives of films belong to the producer, and for some reason, if a film is damaged, does that mean we can no longer watch it? A cinematheque is never based on negatives, but on copies of the film. If the state wants to establish one, it must make new copies of the negatives. It is one of the projects they are always enthusiastic about but never implement. The importance of a cinematheque is that it preserves films if they disappear. It is necessary because films are the emotional and civilizational archive of any country. Through them, you can discover a great deal about society. Someone may be looking for work, while another insists on teaching his daughter Arabic, as in the film “The Flirtation of Girls.” You can see not only the acting style but also people in the streets and their clothing. Even if the treatment is superficial or classical, cinema can thus benefit sociologists, anthropologists, and any viewer.

* The film is full of figures, production years, and the number of films produced each year. How did you resist excessive documentation while telling your story?

That was the challenge in the film. I like to discover something new whenever I watch a film, whether it is information, an emotional state, or a group of people with a way of life I do not know. I have to explore. I came across the book “Talaat Harb and Egyptian Cinema,” in which the figures stop at 1056, and I decided to use the figures available to us while we were at the studio. I tried not to confuse the viewer.

* Does the film “At Studio Misr” announce the death of film stock? Does the artistic medium die?

Yes, of course. It has died in small film industries, but it has not yet died in major film industries. In America, for example, major directors still insist on using it. But there is a reality that cannot be ignored: Kodak no longer produces film stock as it did in the past, and the number of laboratories around the world has declined. The death of a medium has happened before. The magnetic tape we used to hear on cassette is no longer produced. But the advantage of negative film is that its capacity to hold image information is still far greater than digital’s. Even when using 4k, its color gradations reach into the thousands, unlike digital. The lifespan of film stock is also known and estimated at fifty years, and a copy must be made to preserve the film. By contrast, we still do not know the expected lifespan of digital’s ability to retain image information.
* How did Chahine’s decision and desire to work at “Studio Misr” affect filming and editing at the studio?

Chahine loved cinema. He invested in it and did not skimp on the film’s technical quality, unlike other producers who spent less on films. They therefore reduced the quality of the artistic product in order to secure their profits, while audiences could not distinguish between a high-quality film and one of lower quality.

* What project are you working on now?

We will discover what comes next. Initial investment in cinema has become cheaper. Any of us can make a film, and editing programs are now available in homes. But distribution and the market remain the greatest challenge. We have lost the third-class cinemas that used to show 3 films with popcorn and muhallabia. The film industry has changed. After a film was released in first-class cinemas, it would move through other cinemas, and the film’s audience has changed.

Filmography

Mona Asaad is a screenwriter, director, and art producer.

Assistant director:

The City 2000

Fish Garden 2008

After the Battle 2012

Studio Misr 2018

Executive producer:

Neighbors 2009

A Long Breath 2012