CINEMA in Egypt continues to be an urban medium. The close to 20 million peasants and farmers are virtually isolated from cinema despite the attempts of the Nasser administration to carry cinema to the village in the "cultural caravans". The cinema audience is predominantly male, coming from the urban petitbourgeoisie and working class. In addition to the limited number of theatres, one of the important factors inhibiting the development of Egyptian cinema is the monopoly of Hollywood films over the market. In 1973, 72 per cent of the films shown in Egypt were American, 9 per cent Italian 6 per cent French, 4.5 per cent Soviet and 1.5 per cent Indian. Over the past two decades, the politics of Egyptian cinema, the only commercial film industry in the Arabic-speaking world — have been shaped by broader issues such as economic globalisation and concepts of national identity. Some films have addressed overtly political themes, including "the American dream", injustices inflicted on the Palestinians, and Islamist protest movements. The character of such films is often strongly influencedby the overarching context in which they are produced. Consider, for example, the fate of Al Abwab Al Mughlaqa (The Closed Doors, 1999). In "The Closed Doors", Islamists recruit a vulnerable early adolescent boy in a public school. "The Closed Doors" was an anti-Islamist film, as are virtually all Egyptian films that address the issue of political mobilisation through religion. It was the location of the boy's recruitment that was distinctive. State-sanctioned representations of political Islam usually ignore the presence of Islamists in modern institutions like the public school system, even though Islamists are hardly strangers to such institutions. Indeed, they often dominate them. But at the representational level, the Egyptian state prefers ignorant Islamists. They should not come from what the state likes to think of as its own turf. At first glance, the film was one of the boldest political statements in the past decade of Egyptian cinema. But the politics of Egyptian cinema dictated that "The Closed Doors", while widely marketed in Europe and the United States as an Egyptian film, would barely be seen in its country of origin. It made no contribution to local debates about the role of religion in society or politics. One reason for the film's marginalisation was that it was financed by French cultural foundations. "The Closed Doors" was a product of "globalisation", but of a sort that many Egyptians, both critics and audiences, distrust, a globalisation formed not by the uncontrolled movement of economic and cultural products, but rather by what they see as a foreignsponsored, anti-nationalist movement. "The Closed Doors" also criticised Islamist politics in an idiom that indicted Egyptian national institutions. Many Egyptian films criticise national institutions, but crucially, they were financed by local, or at most regional, capital, and they circulate no further than the Arabic speaking world. "The Closed Doors" may also have been a commercial failure for other reasons. Its realist style departed from current local cinematic trends; it contained a heavy Oedipal theme that might have struck audiences as preposterous. Egyptian cinema has sometimes attracted attention in the United States not for opposing political Islam, but for fomenting anti-Americanism or even anti-Semitism. Such charges are exaggerated, and a case of the pot calling the kettle black, given the anti-Arab bias prevalent in parts of the American media. Films that have struck American journalists — though not necessarily Egyptian audiences — as controversial include Saidi fi Al Gami'a Al Amrikiyya (An Upper Egyptian in the American University, 1998), in which a peasant makes his way in the elitist American University in Cairo. But the film must be understood in the same context as "The Closed Doors". They are not so much anti-American as they are nationalist. More important, they are far from the 'massive wave' of anti-Americanism in the Arab world to which the American media often points. Indeed, anti-Americanism in Egyptian cinema is best seen as a mini-trend that has perhaps had its day. But even during that period of time Sahar Al Layali (Sleepless Nights, 2003) an exploration of marital problems portrayed pointedly against the backdrop of a completely globalised Egyptian society. "Sleepless Nights", is like a scientific experiment that controls for all material factors by inventing characters, who could be living anywhere in New York, or Texas or any suburbanised city. The film asks what relations between Egyptian men and women would be like if reduced to their essence by eliminating all worries about money, modernity, or politics. "Sleepless Nights", is in many ways a total embrace of globalisation, but one that contrasts strongly with that of "The Closed Doors". "Sleepless Nights", portrays society in terms that put Egypt in the world, rather than putting Egypt under an imagined microscope in some European or American laboratory. Consequently the film was fully cognizant of the politics of Egyptian cinema rather than the politics in Egyptian films. Egyptian cinema though is still over whelmed by its own politics that breaking away is difficult. Even the simplest of comedies throws hints of the political state Egypt is in. One of the few comedies in recent years that didn't occupy itself with that was Teer Enta (You fly, 2009). That was perhaps due to the fact that the film was an American remake of the film "Badazzled", and that right here is globalisation of Western influence. The film didn't carry any heavy political messages in it, only delivered the message of what the original film intended, which was "to be yourself". And that is a global message anyone can relate to.
