Μ THE ONE-MAN FILM INDUSTRY
Nothingwood is ready to take on Hollywood offerings
Salim Shaheen, an Afghan filmmaker, is a surprise star at Cannes,
CANNES // In the hierarchy of world cinema, Hollywood is at the top. Then comes Bollywood and Nigeria’s Nollywood. “Way, way below comes us,” said Afghan actor Salim Shaheen, who is his country’s oneman film industry. “We are Nothingwood.”
Shaheen, who is 51 or 53 – he is not quite sure – and his endearingly eccentric band of actors are the stars of the festival with their hit documentary Nothingwood. The director has made 111 – not always good – films on a shoestring budget in a country where watching a film can get you killed.
Nothingwood is a hilarious, touching tribute to Shaheen – possibly the world’s most prolific filmmaker, according to The Hollywood Reporter – and to his almost suicidal urge to perform. He has been dubbed the Afghan Steven Spielberg, although it could be argued Shaheen’s commitment to film is even greater than that of the Oscarwinning Hollywood director – whose blockbuster hits include Saving Private Ryan, Jaws, Jurassic Park and E.T.
“I would die for cinema,” Shaheen said. And he means it.
He survived a rocket attack on his studio in 1995 in which nine of his actors and crew died and he and his collaborators regularly dodge minefields and the Taliban to make their action films and melodramas.
“I am stronger than death,” Shaheen said. “We Afghans don’t worry about death. It will come, we just don’t know when.”
To say that Cannes has taken Shaheen and his merry men to its heart is an understatement. Rave reviews have been won and journalists have queued for hours to talk to him. Shaheen – a cross between Gerard Depardieu and Steven Seagal, “with his craft clearly inspired by the latter” – is revelling in the Cannes circus.
“I cried tears of joy when I found out I was going to Cannes,” he said. “My dream is to come back and compete for the Palme d’Or with one of my films. I’ll have to make a good one.”
By Hollywood standards, the quality of his films leaves a lot to be desired. Some are made in less than four days.
But Shaheen, who cannot read or write, is adored in his homeland for his courage and humour, and the fact that the little guy always wins in the end.
He even has secret fans among the Taliban, who have outlawed music and movies. In the documentary, a masked fighter admits many watch his films on their mobile phones.
Shaheen acts, directs, produces and sings in his movies, with live music on set coming from his mobile phone.
“I have trained 95 per cent of people who make film in Afghanistan,” he said.
The documentary, directed by Frenchwoman Sonia Kronlund, provides a breezy but deeply enlightening romp that sheds light on the warm and unexpectedly earthy humour of everyday Afghan life. While Shaheen may be large than life on screen as well as off, it is his leading lady – who, this being Afghanistan, is a man – who nearly steals this show.
The witty and flamboyant Qurban Ali is a kind of agony aunt in an Afghan television show, where he appears in a burqa.
Despite his effeminate nature and flirty banter, Ali has a wife and large family at home.