The #COMETOGETHER exhibition, revolution and the Gulf

Ripples of the Arab Spring felt in the Gulf States.

The #COMETOGETHER exhibition opening in London’s Brick Lane may be about modern and contemporary art by Middle Eastern artists, but it is also about how revolution has affected seemingly stable Gulf States.   As Stephen Stapleton, organizer and founding member of Edge of Arabia points out: “In bringing these artists together at this time we want to explore the frontiers of technology and ideology that are shaping the contemporary borderland between East and West.”  The case of Saudi poet and columnist Hamza Kashgari who published a conversation with the Prophet on his twitter account is illustrative of Mr. Stapleton’s point.  Saudi Arabians were divided as to how to deal with him crossing red lines.  

The #COMETOGETHER exhibition then, reflects and explores the fissures and cracks that the Gulf States are experiencing. The art of Ahmed Mater focusing on the huge changes that Mecca is experiencing is a good example. The investment and the rise of high rise hotels have wiped out the archaeological heritage of Islam’s founder. It has in the words of author Henry Hemmings caused a sense of dissonance.  It’s hard to focus on the House that Abraham built for God when halal Big Macs, Dr. Dre headphones and Ann Summers lingerie calls you within a huge clock tower that resembles a cross between Big Ben and the tower of Mordor. Whilst none of the latter is sinful of course; Mecca’s worldliness has disturbed many Saudis and has no doubt contributed to shaping the world view of many radicals.  The kingdom has lost the spirit that it was initially founded on. #COMETOGETHER not only explores the discord between Gulf States and its citizens but also reflects how the Gulf States are trying to adapt to their new environment.

Admittedly the Gulf States are not adapting very well.  Saudi Arabia has dealt with the Arab spring through a combination of repression and pay rises.  It is still somewhat unsure about what it should do with petitions like that presented in February 2011 which asked for a state based on institutions and rights. These were signed by thousands, not just islamists but by a younger generation willing to challenge religious authority.  Oman, described as the world’s most charming police state, has similar problems. Since Sultan Qaboos seized power in the 70s, Oman has been staunch ally of the West. With the Arab spring compounded by the fact that the sultan has no designated heir and oil resources are declining; Omanis are becoming increasingly restless. Dissent has been expressed through social media sites and protests in the oil sector. Kuwait and United Arab Emirates have also seen its Islamist parties gaining confidence. As a recent Chatham house paper suggests the authorities view the Islamist’s manifesto for democracy as a veiled attempt to gain power.

So what course of action should the Gulf States adopt in order to avoid instability? It cannot adopt a Bahraini or Syrian attitude. Neither can it think short term and do what the Saudi king or the Omani sultan did: pay rises, release political prisoners and remove some ministers.  In order to survive fundamental changes need to occur. Political reform probably in the form of constitutional monarchy must happen with real accountability. Strategies that deal with the post-oil economy and bridges the socio-economic cleavages that the region is experiencing must be implemented.

As for the West, how can it ensure stability yet maintain good relations with these Gulf States? Britain’s good relationship with the Gulf States can prove instrumental in managing these relationships. Encouraging educational contacts through scholarships or British universities expanding in the Gulf help create an alternative political culture. Cultural contacts like #COMETOGETHER strengthen relationships with the younger Arab generation and allow them to create their own political role models.  Oman for instance, is bringing award winning British Graffiti artist, Aerosolarabic this December to change young Omanis’ penchant for fast and furious driving and pimping up their rides. Cultural contact is the best medium for future political reform and dialogue. #

#COMETOGETHER opens at the Old Truman Brewery, E1 6QL, on 6 October at 6pm

Tam Hussein is an award winning writer and journalist specialising in the Middle East. He spent several years in the Middle East and North Africa working as a translator and consultant. Tam also writes for the Huffington Post.

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The film for The Lost City of Z was flown back from the jungle – and it was worth it

Based on David Grann’s book about the British explorer Percy Fawcett, the film is a beautiful, diligent portrait. Plus: Aquarius.​

Two ravishing new films with a Brazilian flavour are generous not only in length (two and a half hours apiece) but in wisdom and wonder. The Lost City of Z is based on David Grann’s book about the British explorer Percy Fawcett, who embarked in 1906 on a Royal Geographical Society expedition, only to become entranced by the legend of an advanced Amazonian civilisation. Fawcett (Charlie Hunnam, delivering his lines in a mesmerising whisper) is drawn repeatedly to the jungle with his aide-de-camp, Henry (Robert Pattinson), interrupting these quests only to fight on the Somme or to return to England to impregnate his patient wife, Nina (Sienna Miller).

Fawcett raises hackles by arguing against the characterisation of the indigenous people as savages and the film repeats this democracy of spirit visually, making no distinction in mystique and allure between the various locations. Devon looks as delicious as Bolivia or Brazil; the mood in the wood-panelled conference room where Fawcett is reprimanded for abandoning one of his party is as treacherous as the depths of the jungle. This creates a continuity between the various worlds, rather than making one exotic at the expense of the other.

James Gray, who writes and directs, retains the unfashionable preference for film over digital which has defined his previous work (moody, mumbly dramas such as We Own the Night and Two Lovers). The picture was shot by Darius Khondji on 35mm, even though that added over half a million dollars to the budget and meant the footage had to be flown thousands of miles from the Colombian rainforest locations to be processed. It was worth it. The dense colours are soaked deep into the grain of the filmstock. They tell a story not available in pixels.

Gray’s screenplay weighs Fawcett’s bravery against his intolerance of ­fallibility, his racial progressiveness against the short-sightedness of his sexual politics. When Nina asks to accompany him, it’s more than he can stomach. “Men and women have performed their roles since the beginning of time,” he fumes. All at once a man fighting social orthodoxy takes cover beneath its privileges. Nina is framed against the tangled blue flowers of the wallpaper; that’s the closest she will get to his adventures. And yet it is she who invokes Browning’s “Andrea del Sarto” to urge her husband on: “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,/Or what’s a heaven for?”

The diligent direction hints that Gray was aiming for the level of scrutiny found in Barry Lyndon, an impression supported by a talismanic cameo from Murray Melvin, who starred in Kubrick’s 1975 film. Barry Lyndon pops up, too, in Aquarius: the distinguished music writer Clara (the incredible Sônia Braga) has a poster for the movie in her Recife apartment. She lives alone but not lonely, visited by her adult children and attended to by a long-serving maid, Ladjane (Zoraide Coleto). A more unwelcome interruption comes in the shape of the property developers who want Clara, the last ­resident in her block, to sell up and move out.

We already know she is formidable. She wears her mastectomy scars defiantly, and the opening scene establishes that her anthem is Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”. With her black hair scraped severely into a bun, and her lips on the verge of a wicked laugh or a vinegary screw-you sneer, Clara is a tenacious warrior. Yet in these businessmen who hide their desires behind tight smiles and veiled threats, she may have met her match.

Aquarius is a leisurely character study that is also urgently political in its treatment of race, class and commerce. Its Brazilian director, Kleber Mendonça Filho, who started out as a critic, has a gift for translating psychological states into cinematic language. His
use of dissolves is haunting, his placement of figures in the frame expressive, and his zooms make you swoon. No detail escapes his eye, from restless feet jiggling under the table on a girls’ night out to strands of hair caressed by the breeze at a late-night party.

The film’s main symbol is a chest of drawers, crammed with layers of memory to which only we have been given access. It represents the sort of history that is in danger of being trampled by people who believe every principle has a price tag. The beach outside warns of shark attacks but the deadliest predators come in human form.

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution