Michael Bodey | April 09, 2008
ODAY Rasheed doesn't much care whether his film is considered the first from Iraq since Saddam Hussein's fall.
Director Oday Rasheed on the set of the film, Underexposure
"Being first or last is not the point. The point is to continue personally to make films and also to help other Iraqis make films, and it doesn't matter who is first or last."
Rasheed's 2005 film Underexposure has become a cause celebre, if that term could be used to describe a film from a war zone, precisely because of its timing. It is being sold as the first Iraqi film produced since Saddam's capture in December 2003.
It is also the closing-night feature of this week's Sydney Arab Film Festival at Parramatta's Riverside Theatre.
Underexposure's fragmented narrative and the difficulties its makers encountered are indicative of the many problems facing Iraqi culture. The country's artists, at least the few who haven't left the country, have found themselves in a cultural vacuum in the Middle East. This has proved particularly frustrating for Iraqis, considering the region has produced some captivating cinema in recent times, including a wave of new films from neighbour Iran and the most accomplished film at this year's festival, Caramel, from Lebanon.
Filmmaking was hampered under Saddam's regime, and for some unexpected reasons. The UN trade embargo prevented the import of film stock because the chemicals used to develop it were classified as dual use: that is, the UN considered they could be used to produce chemical weapons.
"So, during the 1990s there were some films, and even before the last war, in 2003, there were some video films that were made, but people and archives don't consider them as films, even if the video itself was structured as a film cinematically," Rasheed says.
Underexposure exploits that embargo for its story. Its cracked narrative follows a filmmaker named Hassan who decides to document street life in Baghdad after the overthrow of Saddam's government by American-led forces.
Such is the dire situation on the streets, and the shell shock of Baghdad's citizens, that the film tends to meander. At one point Hassan notes wanly, "I don't know what to film any more." Its fragmented structure is a narrative statement as well as a production necessity, Rasheed says.
"Because of the situation at that time and of the material I used and the way I structured it, this is more of a visual diary than a film," he concedes. "But definitely I'm proud of it cinematically."
He was able to produce the film without commercial pressure: "Of course we want to sell the film, but this gives you a sense of freedom and allows you to put in the things you want to put in and say the things you want to say."
In practical terms, Underexposure could have been a dangerous folly. Rasheed acquired on the black market 30-year-old Kodak 35mm film stock that originally came from Saddam's ministry of culture, film stock that might have been unusable. The filmmaker was advised to underexpose the film, hence the movie's title.
German producers Tom Tykwer (the director of Run, Lola, Run and Heaven) and Maria Kopf of X Filme Creative Pool later picked up the project and helped to ensure its distribution to a world audience.
Rasheed's previous work was seen only by friends, after he was expelled from the state-run film school by the Baath regime. Rasheed is a member of a loose artistic collective called al-Najeen, or the survivors, a generation of Iraqi artists who rue the loss of more than a decade of cultural life because of Saddam's tyranny and UN sanctions.
Iraq continues to exercise a powerful attraction, although he is not sanguine about the situation there. He could pursue filmmaking in Europe, particularly if he's championed by such a respected production house as X Filme Creative Pool, but he says: "Of course I want to go back to Iraq."
The three years since he made Underexposure have been "three years of disappointment and pain, because you want to continue something you started as an artist. This is my life and it's not easy, but I still believe there's something in this city (Baghdad) to film that I want to talk about.
"On the other hand, not just cinematically but for me as an Iraqi, there's more than six million Iraqis outside Iraq and most of the six million are the intellectuals or the elite of society, the professors, the businessmen, the scientists, the good students.
"So there's those people, those exiles who had to leave home, and I'm one of them.
"I'm still thinking about the city of Baghdad and the millions who left ... it's a weird combination."
Rasheed says he is not alone among Iraqi filmmakers in preparing projects to be filmed in their homeland.
"The problem is the security situation," he says. His knowledge of the situation is detailed, even from his German home. He tells of a recent quiet period being interrupted by three dangerous days of fighting.
He notes it is "a little bit crazy" to film there because he would be gambling not only with his life but also the lives of his crew.
He has lost more than 30 friends in the past five years, including the cameraman from his first short film, who he says was killed by American soldiers. "They said they were sorry but you can't bring him back," he says. "It's terribly painful."
The dangers of living in Iraq are manifold and only increase if you're carrying a camera.
"It's not a matter of whether you're a filmmaker, it's a matter of your activity," Rasheed says. "Journalists and cameramen, because they are on the road all the time and trying to get the news, are a moving target.
"On the other hand, there are many people making propaganda, too, so maybe what you are doing as a filmmaker is working for some other group or militia, in which case you aredead.
"It's a gang mentality rather than a party political mentality. It's a gamble, you know."
Even an artistic agitator such as Rasheed is unlikely to take that gamble. He notes that all Iraqi political parties are against him "and I'm against them".
"I'm a secular artist, I believe in man, I believe in freedom, I believe in happiness, and these kinds of thoughts are not working over there any more," he says.
"They have their own concept of a solution, they have their concept of freedom, and they have a concept of punishing those who are against them.
"There's no conversation in which you disagree; if you disagree, you're dead."
So, does the 34-year-old believe he will film in Iraq again before he turns 50?
"This is a very polite political question," he laughs. "I think I can make one film more in Baghdad in the near future, but to live, no, not before my 60s or even in my lifetime."
Underexposure screens at the Sydney Arab Film Festival, Riverside Theatres, Parramatta, on Sunday.