This paper is an ideology critique of Maysaloun Hamoud’s 2016 fictional feature In Between, which is itself an ideology critique cast in filmic form. In Between follows in intimate detail the everyday lives of three Palestinian women as they struggle against the entangled violences of racial, religious, cultural, and sexual differentiation. The filmmaker is concerned mainly with what is framed—both cinematically and epistemically—as Indigenous hetero/sexism and its vicious but vulnerable social reproduction. Although the film is also somewhat critical of colonial racism, In Between is animated by colonial and racial logics which ultimately undermine the feminist ideological work the film attempts to perform. Even as every main and even secondary character is Indigenous, the film is connotatively animated by civilizationist logics that denotatively animate sexual renditions of racial, religious, and cultural difference in gay settler films that queer anticolonial organizers have critiqued for pinkwashing. The film traffics in these cultural logics visually through composition and camerawork as well as narratively through the plot and dialogue. This paper’s close reading of the film’s formal elements takes up conceptual and methodological debates in queer and sexuality studies of the Middle East. Engaging scholarship that addresses the limits of concepts such as queer liberalism and homonationalism—along with corresponding methods of epistemological and ideology critique—this paper explores the political risks of forgoing the latter, which are salient even when settler imperialism and its regimes of racialization are not the primary objects of analysis. Woven throughout is an examination of the problem and promise of the queer-theoretical premise of non-referentiality, the geo/political implications of which have been considered in critiques of empire across historical materialist, transnational feminist, queer of color, and Indigenous critical theory.

This paper discusses Manijeh Hekmat’s first film Women’s Prison (2002) and how it is an unofficial adaptation of the work The Wall(1983) by Yilmaz Guney, and how the political climate of Turkey and Iran, respectively are represented in these films. There are many instances in which Women’s Prison reminds the audience of The Wall (Duvar)(1983), the masterpiece by Guney made nearly twenty years earlier. Aside from the similarities in the themes between The Wall and Women’s Prison films, one can argue that Women’s Prison is an unofficial sequel to—or, perhaps an adaptation of The Wall. Although Hekmat never admitted to referencing Guney’s film, the connections are evident. One reason for not addressing Guney could be the political aspect of Guney’s life. The Wall was banned in Turkey for seventeen years, and this detail could have caused Hekmat’s film to face more obstacles than it already had. In Guney’s film, the harsh conditions of the prison force the Turkish teenagers to revolt against the violent guards. Consequently, Women’s Prison starts with the revolt having already taken place. A prison is depicted in The Wall with the same storylines as Women’s Prison with an all-women’s prison and cast. Guney comments on rape and assault in the prison with the difference that the rapist in Guney’s prison is one of the guards. Hekmat in this sense is careful not to provoke any sensitivity from the Islamic Republic which would have resulted in her film being banned. Therefore, the rapist in Women’s Prison is one of the inmates. As mentioned by Zeynabadi-Nejad, considering the prison a metaphor for Iran, if the rapist is one of the inmates, then that means she was a member of the society and not one of the authorities because of the way that the film has separated arranged the authorities from the rest of the society.

Following the unprecedented global success of the Turkish TV industry, the ruling party of Turkey (Justice and Development Party–AKP), which has been in power for two decades, has utilized television effectively to marginalize and stigmatize opposition while endorsing lifestyles and beliefs in line with its conservative, pro-Islam ideology. Recently, TV dramas that focus on religious doctrines and traditions and depict the clashes between conservative and secular factions in Turkey, such as Kizilcik Serbeti (Cranberry Sorbet), Omer (Omar) and Kizil Goncalar (Crimson Buds), have met harsh criticism and censure from various state institutions, governmental organizations and Islamic sects and cults that have organic ties with the government. While these dramas are critical of both secular and Islamic ideologies and established political and religious structures, they have been accused of Islamophobia and for insulting pious citizens. In this paper, relying on a political economy of media approach and critical discourse analysis of news in the pro-government and oppositional media, we explore how the government, state and pro-AKP media outlets use these three TV dramas in order to (1) stigmatize any content that addresses the suffering, spiritual confusion or abuse inflicted by religious figures and communities in the name of Islam and (2) attack and discredit culture industries that produce those dramas for being Islamophobic. This paper will also discuss the politics of stigmatization by investigating the mechanisms of insecurities, such as the loss of piety, and erosion of traditional Turkish values and sanctity of the family, evoked by the government and state institutions. We argue that the deployment of Islamophobia discourse contributes to the government’s efforts to shape television content in line with the AKP government’s conservative cultural policy agenda. Furthermore, the government’s targeting of the TV industry deepens the polarization not only between pro-Islam regime-loyalists and secularists but also among the TV production companies themselves in terms of their corporate identities and audiences they aim to attract.

This research investigates the manifestation of the Persian-Islamic concept of the "imaginal realm" in cinematic aesthetics and its impact on viewer perception. Drawing upon the seminal work of Persian philosopher Suhrawardī (1154–1191), who proposed the existence of the "imaginal realm" as a transcendental level between the realms of "intellect" and "matter," the study explores its role in cinematic imagery. The "imaginal realm," also known as "Alam al-Khayal" or "the imaginary world," exists as a transitional space between the material and immaterial worlds, housing non-material and suspended forms. Perception of this realm demands a mystical experience and inner sense activation—an inward transformation of corporeal senses. According to Suhrawardī, only by closing the outer eyes can the inner eye open, allowing the perception of the truth inherent in imaginal images. Suhrawardī terms this inner vision as "imagination," serving as the subtle, perceptual organ of this supra-sensory realm. Despite its non-material and supra-sensory nature, this concept finds expression in cinema, as theorized by film scholar Laura Marks. However, the inherent non-perceptible and supra-sensory nature of the imaginal realm raises questions about its representation through cinematic images. This research seeks to address this contradiction and delve into the potential mystical effects experienced by the spectator. The primary objective of this study is to explore how the cinematic image embodies the imaginal realm and whether it elicits a mystical involvement or sense-transformation in the spectator beyond conventional cognitive perception. To investigate these inquiries, the research focuses on the Iranian film, The Green Fire (2008), directed by Mohammad-Reza Aslani. Through a detailed analysis of the film, I reveal how cinematic images transcend the cognitive-sensory level, providing a gateway to a reality that surpasses individual perceptions. This exposure to a higher realm stimulates the viewer's inner senses, akin to a mystic encounter, inviting them to explore the profound depths of imagination. Employing a cosmopolitan research approach, this study bridges Islamic philosophy and film theory to unveil the profound impact of the Persian-Islamic concept of the imaginal realm on contemporary theories of cinematic images and film spectatorship, enabling profound reflections on the nature of perception and reality in cinematic discourse.

This paper continues my ongoing exploration of the contradictory – or at best vague – ways in which Egyptian film classics engaged with modernity. Films often projected a new social ethos of modern gender equality yet, in their resolutions, favored male subjects as active nation builders. Thus, the worlds that they created charted divergent paths that, despite attempts to include women as equal partners, ultimately sent them back to the home via a detour. In this paper I argue that Ana hurra (I am Free, 1959) utilizes the bildungsroman, or coming of age, narrative to outline a gendered matrix for nation-building and, therefore, structures female national growth around domesticity. Despite covert support for female agency and participation in the national struggle through a non-maternal role, the film eventually capitulates to the mainstream modern vision. Ana hurra is a forward-looking picture depicting the journey of growth of a defiant young woman, whose rebelliousness reflects the Nasser era state feminism. Insisting on freedom, autonomy as a full-fledged individual, and participation in the nation as an active subject, Amina, the protagonist, undergoes a journey of exploration. With her father’s support, she breaks many barriers as she turns down marriage, goes to college, graduates, and works in a petrol company. Her search for freedom continues as she reconnects with ‘Abbas, a former male neighbor, who serves as her guide. Amina joins a political group fighting for Egypt’s independence, an affiliation which lands her and ‘Abbas in prison, where she finally recognizes that her true freedom lies in the domestic sphere. The last scenes see her marrying ‘Abbas exactly three days before the revolution, implying that Amina will now recede to the background and contribute to the fight through rearing the nation’s children. Thus, woman in the movie figures as a temporary aid for whom the political struggle is only a detour. In Ana hurra, the female protagonist goes through education only to unlearn all that she has learned over the course of her journey. As the film equates national freedom with marriage for women, men emerge as fighters and women as homemakers. Even though Amina’s was an unusual role, reaching domesticity through rebellion and temporary participation in the national struggle, the film reaffirms the modern mainstream narrative that designates only men as active nation builders.