Muthana Subh: My dream was to become a martyr or a director

Smiling can usually do wonders for people; they make excellent first impressions. Muthana Subh is good at doing just that; enchanting those who meet him with a warm smile and strong handshake—making them love him, without even knowing who he is. This young man, who is originally from Palestine, is one of the rising young directors in Syria. Rising from peek to peek, his works are being currently broadcasted on Arabic television to millions of viewers around the world, forcing everybody—young and old—to recognize him as one of the finest young directors in the Syrian art world.

Underneath layers of his strong personality, and the eternal sparkle in his eyes, lies agony, however, at a homeland occupied, which he has never seen “except on maps.” Mirroring the hopes and ambitions of the Palestinians, Subh is a revolution in his own right—not in politics, but in television drama. He started his career alone, working his way to the top with established directors like Hatem Ali in 2006, and today, only two years later, has left his fingerprints all over the art scene in Damascus. Farah Akel

Let us start with your latest work, “Laysa Saraban” (Not a Mirage), which is being broadcasted on Arabic satellite TV this Ramadan. What can you tell us about this valiant work, which has attracted a loyal audience since it began airing on September 1st?
I think we should look at the negative aspects of any society, because they compliment the beauty in our lives. “Laysa Saraban” deals with several important issues, the most important of which is the rich mosaic of Syrian society. The work tackles mankind’s return to the soul of the Creator, accepting others as they are, and markets one important idea: tolerance. All of that existed in our societies back in the 1950s. This is actually the first time that a Syrian drama series deals with the absence of civil society, and relationships between Muslims and Christians. It also discusses “censorship of both religion and society” which make it difficult for people to think and behave as they would like. More importantly, the work’s main point is about the meeting of souls, and how they become stronger than any social or ethnic circumstance imposed on them by society.
Did you face any difficulty from Syrian censors, given that the topic is a sensitive one?
Honestly, we did not face any problems. That was both surprising and pleasing to me. I actually respect the fact that they allowed us to deal with such sensitive issues.
Can you tell us about your beginnings, and your experience with Hatem Ali, who is currently one of the most widely respected directors in the Arab world?
My first work in this domain was an assistant to the costume department with the director Maamoun al-Bunni. I then met Haitham Hakki, another great director who has left his fingerprints on Syrian drama, and worked with him for three years as a scriptwriter. This made me confident that I was walking in the right direction. I then became an assistant director with Hatem Ali, and worked with him for eight years. When you work with a person like Hatem, with the wealth of knowledge and experience he enjoys, you also develop a lust for knowledge and master how to develop yourself from within. Hatem Ali is my friend and my mentor. Our influence was not affected by our separate ways in work. I am proud to say that my name was listed alongside my two teachers in the series “Nada al-Ayyam” (The Dew of Days) and I have great respect for both of them.
You started as a director—all alone—in 2006.
True. I started in “Masharae Saghira” (Small Projects), a comedy work written by Amal Hanna. I absolutely loved this work and consider it as my firstborn. Firstborns are always, the prettiest of children. I worked very hard to become a director. The first work increased my self-esteem, and I discovered new dimensions in myself and my work. My second series was “Ala Haffet al-Hawiya” (On the Brink). It made me more aware of how much I needed to work to maintain the caliber of my productions.
What’s next for Muthana Subh?
My next work is a series written by the late Mamduh Adwan, called “Aldawwamah.” It is based on a novel by Syrian writer Fawaz Haddad. It deals with the conflict between international companies and Syrian ones, over Syrian oil, along with the independence period in Syria and Lebanon, and how Syria looked like between 1949 and 1951.
What do we not know about your childhood, or your inner dreams? 
When I was a teenage, I had two dreams. I wanted either to become a Palestinian martyr, or a director. I was born in 1971 in Damascus and I consider myself a Syrian-Palestinian. I am originally from Safad in Occupied Palestine. I belong to a middle-class family; my father was an instructor at a Palestinian school in Syria. I had a brother who was martyred at the age of 18. I have seen my family home only in photographs; it has now been transformed into a museum and studio by the Israelis. I now hope to become like Mustapha al-Akkad (the Syrian director who reached Hollywood in the 1970s), who I had the chance to work with as an assistant director in Canada, but never took it, because my mother was dying and I could not leave her back home.
As a Palestinian director, would you like to produce something about the Palestinians and your homeland?
I really hope to make a major film about Palestine. I belong to a people whose daily bread is nothing but pain. It is very hard to live in one place when you belong to another and are prevented from it. I actually worked with Hatem Ali in “Al-Taghriba al-Filastiniya” (The Palestinian Exile), a work dealing with the suffering of the Palestinians since 1936. I hope to make a work like that, about our people, their suffering, and daily problems under occupation. I think that when this dream comes true, it will be my last work. Only then will I be able to say that I walked, “a thousand miles.”  
Last year, you were receieved by President Bashar al-Assad, who has expressed strong support for Syrian drama, and granted an audience to Syrian actors, actresses, and directors. Can you tell us anything about your encounter with the President?
Syrian drama is in need of support, and that is why this was such an important step by the President. We were twenty people, and the meeting was supposed to last for 30 minutes. It lasted for two hours and a half. The President wanted to hear our problems, and I was personally surprised to realize how involved he was in what we were telling him. He knew more about my profession than I did. I felt that he was very proud of us, and that gave me a feeling of grand responsibility. I came out thinking that I must do the best that I can to help advance Syrian drama.
Any last words? Would you like to extend your thanks to anyone?
My mother, whose soul still surrounds me; Hatem Ali and Haitham Hakki; and the Syrian International Production Company.