The Citizen (2013)

They say everyone remembers when they heard about JFK’s assassination. Everyone remembers the morning of September 11, 2001. And I will remember today, the day Donald Trump became president. Because I, an Arab in Trump’s America, feel terrified. If you don’t understand why, then Sam Kadi’s 2013 drama The Citizen will help.

Sonita (2015)

We Americans have automated and commodified war. We’ve done this so thoroughly that even out of the meager 12% of Americans who can even find Afghanistan on a map (26% for Iran), our instincts cause us to dismiss Iran and Afghanistan as those places we want to raze because “they hate us.” But what if someone in Iran or Afghanistan wants to make life better for both Americans and Iranians, but repressive cultural traditions, a totalitarian government, and the constant threat of suicide bombers reduces her to a statistic before she even can?

Sonita, a documentary by Rokhsareh Ghaemmaghami (who comes to play an active role) tells the powerful story of Sonita Alizadeh, a budding Iranian rapper whose socially conscious lyrics aim to end the tradition of forced marriages and the struggles of families living in abject poverty. For any of a dozen reasons—none her fault and few under her control—Sonita could have become a statistic, just another battered teenage housewife of a wealthy Afghan man, a living deed sold off by her own family, for the price of a used car, so they could put food on the table or afford a daughter-in-law of their own. Through a long succession of miracles—including the creation and release of this film (courtesy of the feminist non-profit Women Make Movies)—Sonita has a chance to take control of her life and to make a difference for the people of Iran.

To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)

William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. inspired me to start Turban Decay. Growing up Arab in rural America meant (among many, many other things) that seeing any images of “people like me” in a film felt like finding Waldo. I’d just feel so excited at seeing anyone in any film from the same part of the world as my ancestors.

Then I watched To Live and Die in L.A., a movie that opens with Friedkin using the language of film to sing the praises of Ronald Reagan and his tough talk on taxes. Before the film’s actual plot even started, an Arab showed up for a handful of seconds only to summarily detonate himself. It hit me that what I just saw has become not the exception but the rule. I’d feel so excited about representation that I willed myself to ignore the hateful propaganda within. I might feel different if much had changed for racial politics in the 31 years since its release, but, well, Donald Trump.…

God's Not Dead (2014)

Yes, I know I haven’t updated this blog in months. Sorry. I have a day job. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s do this.…


My girlfriend recently talked me into hate-watching God’s Not Dead. I really didn’t want to. Frankly, only one thing about this turkey ever interested me: the irony that this film exists to gainsay atheists… but technically, atheists agree with the title. Of course, the film fully lived down to my expectations of wholesale incompetence. God’s Not Dead probably unseats Buffalo ‘66 as the most spectacularly oblivious display of psychological projection in film history.

Paris, je t'aime (2006)

As of this writing, the recent terrorist attacks in Paris have claimed over 100 lives and left over 300 people injured. Pols and pundits have already come out of the woodwork to use this tragedy as an excuse to spread their own agendas, to spread otherization and hate. But as Martin Luther King famously said, “Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.” More to the point, by hating Muslims, we give ISIS exactly what they want. Like any person with an ounce of humanity, my heart goes out to the victims, their families, and the city of Paris (as well as the victims of the bombings in Beirut). In that spirit, let’s counter that hate with love, as embodied in the anthology film Paris, je t’aime.

Hidalgo (2004)

One of the most important Arab actors in history—and a personal hero of mine—died earlier this month. For decades, Omar Sharif defined Hollywood’s Middle Eastern man. His performances varied from the cunning to the credulous, from the sleazy to the debonair, but he always brought that mysterious, exotic charm that became associated with the better ethnic roles in Old Hollywood. I originally intended to write a eulogy, but The Guardian eulogized circles around anything I could have written. Instead, let’s celebrate Sharif’s life by talking about his work. I thought I’d start with his last high-profile film: Hidalgo, a mediocre movie buoyed by his warm, charismatic presence.

Escape Plan (2013)

As an Arab-American of Muslim upbringing, the last 14 years have made one thing painfully, ineluctably clear: although I identify as a pacifist and I’ve never even met a terrorist, my fellow countrymen have no qualms about sacrificing my liberty for their security.

I don’t even just mean hate crimes. At any time, any day, for any or no reason, I could suddenly get disappeared by authorities. The feds could immure and torture me in some black site in the heart of America, or I could face even worse treatment in Guantanamo Bay, or face even worse treatment in an unknown facility on the far side of the world, all with no evidence that I’d done anything wrong, at a site specifically chosen to deprive me of the use of a lawyer, with an arbitrary “enemy combatant” tag designed to make sure I can’t use the Sixth or Seventh Amendments. They could intentionally set a prohibitive fine; maybe they just wouldn’t tell anyone they had me in custody at all. They could convince my friends and loved ones that I’d done something to deserve this. (More of them would believe it than I want to admit.) I might never speak to my lawyer, family, or friends again. I might literally never see the light of day again. The staff at these prisons know they could torture, brutalize, starve, and possibly murder me with no provocation and no fear of punishment for decades, if ever. Whatever higher authorities would do to my torturers wouldn’t compare to what they’d do to anyone who’d try to stop it.

You might respond with blandishments about how, as a civic-minded film critic with a graduate-level education, I have nothing to worry about. But don’t waste your time or mine by claiming this has never happened to people who don’t deserve it. Only an idiot would believe that the government only punishes “bad people.”

So Escape Plan—a movie taking place inside “the Tomb,” a super-duper-max, ultra-secret, privately-owned, putatively “escape-proof” prison peopled with dissidents and Muslims—hits home for me.

The film centers on highly-paid escapologist Ray Breslin (Sylvester Stallone) and his attempts to escape the Tomb with the help of curiously solicitous fellow inmate Emil Rottmayer (Arnold Schwarzenegger). Breslin also faces the reptilian Warden Hobbes (James Caviezel) and his violent assistant (Vinnie Jones).

The Sea Hawk (1924)

I have no interest in sports. But as a former Seattleite, I know I have to cover this movie at some point this year just because of its title. I meant to get to it right after the Seahawks’ Super Bowl victory, but then I just sort of… continued to not give a shit about professional sports.

Anyway, The Sea Hawk—an Elizabethan period piece adapted from a book by Rafael Sabatini—chronicles the transformation of Sir Oliver Tressilian (Milton Sills)—a courageous but arrogant Cornish seafarer—into Sakr-el-Bahr (صقر البحر, which actually does mean “hawk of the sea”), Barbary pirate and scourge of the Spanish.

The Spy Who Loved Me (1977)

With Richard Kiel’s recent passing, I felt like pouring one out for him in the form of watching his most famous role (outside of Happy Gilmore and inspiring idiotic tooth-wear, anyway). So I checked out his first appearance as Jaws in The Spy Who Loved Me.

Achmed Saves America (2014)

I loathe Jeff Dunham.

I don’t mean to say I have a personal beef with him. Maybe he has a wonderful personality. Maybe he put a lot of hard work into doing all those voices whilst moving his mouth just enough for his less drunk audience members to see the bounce of his Adam’s apple. Maybe he pays his bills on time or buys a round when he goes out with Bill Engvall or Guy Fieri or Joe the Plumber or whoever; I don’t know. I just know that I find his comedy jejune, racist, and insufferably unfunny. He fancies himself an “equal opportunity offender” as he uses bland comedy to effectively monetize racism in the vein of Lisa Lampanelli, but for “equal” opportunity, he spends an inordinate amount of time touting his stereotypical Arab Muslim dummy, Achmed.

So I regret to inform you all that Achmed got a movie, and I regret to remind myself that I’ve now seen it.

Ishtar (1987)

In Hollywood, Elaine May’s Middle-Eastern Cold War farce Ishtar has become synonymous with failure. The film had a notoriously catastrophic production; discord abounded, tempers flared, and friendships shattered. Production went so far over budget that Ishtar became the biggest-budget comedy in history up to that point. May found herself fighting against everyone as well as her own health. Ishtar earned only about 26% of what it cost. Critics called it every name in the book. What started as star Warren Beatty vouchsafing a career opportunity to his friend May ended in a dramatic falling-out between the two and later a breakup between Beatty and his then-girlfriend, co-star Isabelle Adjani, because of this film. May found her directing career destroyed and her Hollywood career in general reduced to a tiny trickle. Only in the last few years has the film become even possible to procure legally in America.

So infamous has its reputation become that to this day, critics use it as a standard by which they judge modern-day box office failures. For instance, Waterworld’s box office failure induced critics to derisively nickname it “Fishtar.”

Road to Morocco (1942)

In their heyday, Bing Crosby and Bob Hope teamed up to make seven Road to… films. Road to Morocco, the third one, made history as the first feature film to have characters break the fourth wall. It serves as a typical example of contemporaneous Hollywood comedies, of the chemistry common in comedy teams in the days of vaudeville, and most annoyingly, of how film portrayed Arabs at the time.

Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989)

I never expected see the day when I’d cover a Godzilla film of all things on this blog. But as it turns out, outside of the usual statements on post-Hiroshima Japan, Godzilla vs. Biollante has plenty to say about the Middle East and its role in a burgeoning world of corporate warfare by way of biotech.

Asad (2012)

Although films about Somalia don’t normally fall within my purview with this blog, I found Asad sufficiently moving and the premise close enough to the Arab World to deserve mention.

Aladdin (1992)

Of all movies to contain Arabs, I’ve had the most requests for Disney’s Aladdin. So if it means getting people to read my variegated and usually-angry opinions on reel Arabs, well, then, let’s do this!

The Sheik (1921)

Rudolph Valentino’s most famous picture, The Sheik catapulted him to wide-reaching—if ephemeral—fame as an actor… leaving Arab perceptions as the collateral damage.

The Sheik tells a story of what we now call Stockholm syndrome: the Arab sheik of the title kidnaps a patrician, independent-minded European woman, keeping her in captivity until he can force her to fall in love with him. In keeping with contemporaneous gender politics, his scheme actually works… But soon the sheik soon finds himself protecting his proto-Patty Hearst from bandits who have the same regressive views of women as he has.

In order to truly understand this film, one must understand the nature of its male lead and deuteragonist, Valentino’s titular sheik. So I’ll begin this piece with a revelation made at the end of the film that technically qualifies as a spoiler. I’ll reveal it after the jump on the off-chance that you actually care about spoilers for a fairly boring silent romance from 1921.

Alternatively, just watch the film yourself.

Sahara Hare (1955) & Hare-Abian Nights (1959)

Based on Turban Decay’s publications so far, you may have concluded that I set out to start a blog based mostly around getting bent out of shape about old cartoons. This post… won’t contradict that.

You can find Sahara Hare here and you can watch Hare-Abian Nights below.

Back to the Future (1985)

Yep. Back to the Future, the 1980s film classic.

Before we begin, I do not debate the classic status of the Back to the Future series. I love the films myself! I won’t do a full-on review here, though, because what could I possibly add to a movie that we all grew up loving that nobody else has already said?

The Mummy (1999)

I love pulp adventure stories. I love seeing two-fisted heroes go on perilous, exciting journeys to exotic locales amid the nascent technological and cultural revolution of the 20th century, with the Jet Age looming in the horizon. I love seeing heroes wade into an unknown land with naught but a dulling blade and the help of friends old and new… and maybe a potential new lover. I love bombastic, sneering, sibilant pulp villains who plan to use forbidden magicks or dangerous artillery to take over the world… but invariably seem unprepared for the actual logistics or prep work of world domination.

I haven’t seen The Mummy in years, but people I know swear up and down that it replicates that aesthetic. So I decided to watch it with that in mind and see what happens. Besides, if I wrote up The Mummy from 1933, logically it follows that I should tackle its most famous remake!

I have to confess that I really don‘t care for this poster. Just compare it to that Karloff/Johann-centered miracle of composition below! This just looks so inert by comparison! This one just has the sand-face from the first act, pyramids, and a poorly-mapped polygon serving as an ersatz eye-line. It only has one hue; it doesn’t have any contrast to speak of. Sure, I like the way the light bloom emanating from the large M forms the main lines of composition, but this entire poster still exists at a level of brand identification one step above store-brand food or Chinese bootleg toys.

The Mummy (1932)

In my experience, when Westerners think of Arabs in the cinema, they think of four things: terrorists, the Crusades, the Arabian Nights, and…

I love this poster so much. From a compositional standpoint, it just looks amazing. The two biggest words tell us all we need to know: “KARLOFF. MUMMY.” The eye naturally moves from Boris Karloff’s greenish, putrefying presence down to Johann’s contrasting red dress against a giant stone slab.