Budget, time and the trappings of routine

One of the often repeated criticisms of television stations in the Arab World is that they undervalue creativity, preferring either to import successful formats from abroad,or continuously repeat the same templates until – or even after – they lose their luster.

In particular, Egyptian television drama series have recently come under special criticism for lacking good scripts, mediocre use of sets, and uninspired directing.

The practical aspect

Lebanese cinema and television director Assad Fuladkar says that the problem with creativity in Egyptian production is caused by time constraints and a history of success.

The production of a film or television series, he points out, should normally follow a certain routine: writing the story, then writing the script, followed by casting, then pre-production decisions that involve budgetary considerations and finally, the actual shooting. However, in Egypt, things are done differently. Script writers are often asked to produce a story for a particular actor, and are asked to do it quickly, a few months before Ramadan, with barely enough time for the actual production. The result, more often than not, is a mediocre Ramadan series. Egyptian stars accept the roles, driven either by their belief that audiences will watch the work just to see them, or because they have resigned themselves to working with poor scripts in the belief that there are no alternatives.

Syrian director Haytham Hakki agrees that poor scripts are the major problem. A poor script is hard to salvage and affects both actors and directors, he says. If the script is too artificial, then acting is bound to come across as artificial. In Egypt, Hakki says the marketing of a television series revolves around the name of the star. Storyline, directing, and sets are all secondary when it comes to actually selling the production to the market. The attitude has been, he says, to secure a superstar and not to worry too much about the rest.

One of the differences between Egyptian and Syrian productions is also the quantity of work, says Hakki. In Egypt, close to 50 television series are produced for Ramadan, while in Syria the figure is closer to 35.

Syrian producers, on the other hand, look for quality, not quantity, according to Syrian director Rasha Sharbatji, and they try to promote their work outside the month of Ramadan. Sharbatji, whose latest work was the series Ghizlan Fi Ghabat Al Thi'ab (Gazelles in a Forest of Wolves), says Egyptian dramas have been marketed solely based on the stars associated with a production. “They create stars and conduct a massive promotion for their names, while disregarding all the flaws in the drama,” she says.

The technical aspect: What are these flaws?

Since the mid-eighties, Syrians have been using what Hakki calls ‘cinematic language’ to film their dramas. Influenced by Russian cinema during his studies at the Higher Cinematic Institute of Moscow, Hakki pioneered the introduction of “the hand-held camera” technique in TV production. In ‘cinematic language,’ the director films the series with a single digital camera relying on the same techniques, lighting and filming methods used to shoot a big-screen movie. The series is filmed scene by scene, with disregard for the actual chronological flow. Once the shooting is done, the director edits the shoots and links them together in the studio. Hakki believes that this is the way production should be. Those in a rush, however, may find chronological shooting, coupled with the use of multiple cameras, to be more expeditious.

Egyptian directors are also known to shoot most of their work inside the studio, using two or even three cameras for their series. They shoot scene-by-scene, filming an entire sequence through consecutive shots, unlike Syrian directors who divide the scenes into several parts, working on each with a single camera which they position as required.

No single hand-held camera in Egypt

Director Khairy Bshara, however, defends the Egyptian approach, saying that filming the entire series with several cameras enables the director to follow the actors’ performances and preserve a certain rhythm and feel, since the scenes are shot following a sequential order. “It is more natural,” argues the Egyptian director. “When you use two cameras, the scene flows and is not cut as it would be when you film the scene with a single camera. The actor is therefore able to live the scene.”

Many Egyptian directors believe that technical quality can be maintained without limiting oneself to the use of a single camera.

According to Samir Seif, director of the Cinderella series (a biography of the late actress Souad Hosni), what happens on set will depend on the director’s talent and his ability to control lighting, set design and actors.

Hakki does not agree with that approach at all. He believes that using a single camera gives the director more freedom to control the frame of the picture, the depth of the frame, and the adequate lighting in every scene. The presence of three cameras, he argues, limits his ability to control the lighting and define the right angle for the camera.

Fuladkar believes that the Egyptians use multiple cameras only to speed up the process since using a single camera takes more time. On average, one day’s shooting using a single camera constitutes merely three to five minutes of real air time, while Egyptians shoot approximately 15 minutes of air time per day. The only reason they do it, Fuladkar says unequivocally, is because they are under pressure to do the work in the least possible amount of time.

Fuladkar is also critical of what he sees as the typical Egyptian method of zooming in and out from a subject as a means to move from one scene to the next. The technique, he says, is annoying to the audience, and notes that it is done, again, because it is “a real time-saver.” The Lebanese director concedes, however, that what’s more important than the number and type of cameras used remains the human resources behind the camera. Bshara concurs: “A director’s general culture and experience will determine whether he does his job well.”

The renewal and creativity aspect

“There are some rules to the business of directing,” says Fuldkar. “Naturally, there are basic rules for directing. A series director should take into consideration the fact that a home viewer can easily be distracted by a phone call or a side conversation. He should therefore prolong the dialogue between actors and slow the speed of events, so that a viewer who misses an episode or two does not miss out on a lot of details.” He adds, with a smile, that rules “were made to be broken… It’s not a disaster if we break them, but we should do so the right way. Interesting things come out of breaking the rules.”

One of the problems with the Egyptian drama, he suggests, may be that the rules are not being broken. After the success of the Um Kulthum series that narrated the personal and artistic life of the Arab diva, Egyptian producers followed immediately with similar biographical series, including Cinderella and Andalib, although neither one received the same acclaim.

Creativity that ‘spreads poison’

Already constrained by time and budgets, Egyptian directors were further disappointed when Information Minister Mahmoud Al Baltagui announced that he would form a committee to supervise Egyptian drama production. No one, vowed Baltagui, would be able “to give free reign to his creativity on television, unless it is responsible creativity that respects our society’s values and traditions.” The media, said the Minister “will not be a means to spread poisons under the label of creativity.” Drama series that may be offensive to religious sensitivities will be shown to the Azhar and the Church, said Baltagui.

Ironically, given their country’s politically repressive environment, Syrian directors and script writers are known to enjoy greater latitude in depicting social issues and concerns.

Syrian director Hakki says that often some of the productions “are forced to contend with certain groups that forbid us from spreading their dirty laundry.” The series Ghizlan Fi Ghabat Al Thi'ab had many of its scenes censored before it was aired on Syrian television. The fictional series speaks about the son of a senior Syrian official who abuses his father’s power for personal gain.

The financing and production aspect

One source for production costs in Syria, www.syria-news.com, estimates that a Syrian drama series may cost between $200,000 and $600,000, while the more costly “historical productions” have a budget of up to $2 million. The site also estimates the salaries of directors and star actors at about $600 to $1,000 per working hour.

In Egypt, however, most directors say that most of the budget ends up in the bank account of the stars with little left for better equipment, sets or the technicians that are instrumental in the success of the production. Even script writers are said to be undervalued.

If Egyptian production houses and directors do not work on improving their image and do so quickly, the costs could be significant for the Egyptian television industry – particularly given the spread of production units in different parts of the Arab World, using new methods, fresh actors and interesting plots. The comment by Syrian director Ma’moun Al Bunni is probably among the harshest. He believes that when Syrian directors or actors work in Egyptian productions, their talents are “degraded” because when a director lacks the necessary tools, the right art frame, budget and time, he will never do a good job, regardless of his talent and expertise. This, he says, will subsequently harm the Syrian director’s or actor’s reputation. His advice to Syrian talents is to stay clear of Egypt.