How Israel's war on Gaza ended our love affair with the Oscars
6 min read
The Oscars were always my personal Super Bowl. After all, awards season is about competition, watching narratives unravel on a campaign trail, rooting for films to get nominated, and coming up with predictions. An essential part of cinephile culture, it was once my favourite time of year. Gaza has made it different.
In the days after October 7, I will never forget the amount of actors, directors and writers who came out in support of Israel over the people of Gaza. People who never spoke about the occupation of Palestine in their lives suddenly flooded my feed with calls for humanity.
As we were inundated with images of lifeless bodies under the rubble, videos of ailing children getting surgery with no anaesthesia, and thousands in Gaza asking us to do anything, say anything — those same actors, directors and writers were silent.
"To stand in solidarity with Palestine, we must reconsider how we watch movies, how we create them, and how we measure their success"
Hollywood overlooks Gaza (again)
Going into the 96th Academy Awards, I had no hope anyone would acknowledge the atrocities happening on their tax dollar. My despondency was affirmed.
In between the #StopJewishHate commercial breaks, host Jimmy Kimmel cracked jokes, winners cried tears of joy, and speech by speech went by with no mention of Gaza as if the 30,000 death toll wasn't rising each second.
Some actors were spotted with ceasefire pins; Swann Arlaud and Milo Machado-Graner of Anatomy of a Fall wore pins of the Palestinian flag — but red carpet correspondents didn't ask, and they didn't tell.
When The Zone of Interest won for Best International Feature, director Jonathan Glazer came on stage to accept. Trembling, from his written speech Glazer read: "All our choices were made to reflect and confront us in the present, not to say look what they did then, rather what we do now…we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October 7 in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza, all the victims of this dehumanisation, how do we resist?" This was the only acknowledgement of the night.
Glazer didn’t outwardly name Palestine, but winning for a movie about Auschwitz while naming the occupation and weaponisation of Jewish identity to justify it, was more than anyone had done in months.
One pan to the audience during his speech offered an arresting image: most attendees in the first few rows of the theatre, reserved for acting nominees and their plus-ones, hardly moved an inch, daring not to be caught in approval or disapproval of Glazer's message. And there was loud applause from people further back, there was support in the room. Just not from anyone who could’ve been seen showing it.
How Gaza became 'taboo' in Western film
The cognitive dissonance required to attend, let alone watch, these ceremonies when a war is being waged on innocents every day is massive — and selective. Winning for 20 Days in Mariupol, documentarian Mstyslav Chernov received a standing ovation when calling for an end to the war in Ukraine; last year, Volodymyr Zelenskyy had a slot at the Golden Globes. Here, the word “Palestine” is taboo, and wearing ceasefire pins is the most radical stance to take.
The Oscars have nominated Palestinian films before, but that proves awards bodies only care when convenient. Recently the Berlin Film Festival gave the Best Documentary Film Award to No Other Land, in which Palestinian activist Bassel Adra documents the eradication of villages in the West Bank, alongside Israeli journalist Yuval Abraham.
This documentary fits into what is palatable: a collaboration between Palestinian and Israeli directors, so the message is co-signed. It covers “both sides” and, therefore is safe to endorse. Abraham's acceptance speech itself centred around apartheid and inequality, rather than Palestinian agency and liberation.
It’s no surprise the same Berlinale that awarded No Other Land stayed quiet amid a wide boycott of the festival, for their complicity in Germany's censorship of pro-Palestinian voices.
Dozens signed open letters, and filmmakers withdrew their films, to no avail. The Berlinale Panorama Instagram account was hacked, with a post stating: “We acknowledge that our silence makes us complicit in Israel's ongoing genocide in Gaza and ethnic cleansing of Palestine.” It was swiftly deleted, and a statement from official organisers was released, saying the post does “not represent the Berlinale's position”, later classifying it as “anti-Semitic.” Artists trying to speak truth to power are awarded a pat on the back by people who turn the other cheek while their loved ones are bombed to death.
"Europe is not my centre. Europe is on the outskirts. After 100 years here, did they speak my language? I speak theirs. My future does not depend on Europe. Why be a sunflower and turn towards the sun? I myself am the sun"
It’s beyond transparent that so many creatives I've admired are, at best, spineless cowards. We can’t continue to engage with film culture as usual when its key players do not care about our brothers and sisters suffering in Palestine.
So often, filmmakers from marginalised countries strive to be recognised at the Oscars, or other Western establishments, to mark that they’ve “made it.” But what is the point of having your art celebrated by people who deny you any meaningful solidarity?
Historically, nations in MENA have relied on foreign funding for projects, primarily from Europe; film education and experience are also mostly obtained outside our homelands.
As a result, our art has been set back, unable to flourish under the imperialist eye. I think back to the words of Senegalese director Ousmane Sembene: “Europe is not my centre. Europe is on the outskirts. After 100 years here, did they speak my language? I speak theirs. My future does not depend on Europe. Why be a sunflower and turn towards the sun? I myself am the sun.” (Caméra D’Afrique, 1983.)
My love for cinema won’t be dispelled, but the way I express it is changing. As an Arab American, decentering the West from my life feels impossible, but we must recognise it as the right thing to do.
To stand in solidarity with Palestine, we must reconsider how we watch movies, how we create them, and how we measure their success. We must free ourselves from the idea that we need any approval other than our own, and work to forge a non-traditional path in this industry. We are not sunflowers, we are suns, and we shine our light upon each other.
Eman Ibrahim is a Libyan-American film critic based in Benghazi. She is also the social media manager and blog contributor at the Arab Film and Media Institute.
Follow her on X: @scorsayzee
