Humanitarian Bazaar | INTERVIEW
Humanitarian Bazaar produces creative projects focused on how people survive war and disaster.
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INTERVIEW | Syria & Algeria: Thrash the Casbah: Monzer Darwish’s Journey from Syrian Metal to Algerian Exile

 

September 2014  |  Written by Daniel J. Gerstle; film and imagery by Monzer Darwish  |  Humanitarianbazaar.org 


 

There have been hundreds of filmmakers risking their lives to document the Syrian war and how people survive. But there has only been one capable of filming on different sides of the fighting line, revealing the lives of men who are not killing each other but who are trying to stay together while speaking brutal truths about what is happening to their country.

 

Over the past two years, Monzer Darwish has been filming his Syrian metal symbols and activists: concert producer and performer Bashar Haroun, thrash pioneer Rawad Messih, doom metal guru Fadi Massamari, and others as they struggle to tell the story of Syria’s crisis through the heaviest, most brutally honest music in live performances and controversial recordings in one of the most conservative societies at war. 

 

The story is told in his film, Syrian Metal is War. But after escaping combat areas, threats to his life grew so strong that he finally had to flee Syria for another conservative country, Algeria, which promised a new round of puzzles as he struggles to save the film.

 

 

 

 

“I believe there’s a heavy ‘shock value’ in the film expressed through what, to us, Syrian citizens, is an everyday routine, but would, to the world, appear as nihilistic with war becoming the norm.”

 

While other filmmakers signed up for nightmares just to go to one part of the war, to cover life saving aid, or the conduct of killers. Darwish spent many months in harms way instead focused on heavy metal because that theme represented the cruel irony of the war more clearly than any other. 

 

Heavy metal culture with its loud music, growls, head banging, moshing, thrash, doom, and macabre art, and especially its brutally honest lyrics telling of humanities moral failures and hypocrisies had long been accused in Muslim and Arab societies as being a force for evil and sin.

 

And here metalheads growling at each other were not only a force helping thousands of youth cope with mass violence and keep from turning to extremism. Their music had become arguably the most honest means of communicating about the horrors of the conflict.

 

Darwish followed Haroun as he ran concerts in Aleppo during the heaviest bombardment of the war, taking them both through the frontlines. He follows Messih, as he tries to rebuild his music empire despite having to leave for Lebanon.

 

And he tells the story of Massamari holding fast in Damascus as his band mates flee the region and he has to cope with the lack of means and safety for his studio and projects. Other storylines cover metalheads who had been united by society’s repression against them before the war, who now have been forced either to fight or choose sides against each other.

 

“There are so many stories documented, each of them strikes a different nerve. Whether it’s someone fleeing a war zone, someone struggling with homelessness, someone slaving away for hours to pay for recording, or simply someone dealing with the unjustness of war, the scale of horror is awe-inspiring.”

 

When Darwish was editing video, the power would go off repeatedly. Any video editor knows the horrors of the “render” and “save”, so producing even a trailer was a complex puzzle. But when Darwish uploaded his first sample, the video and its Facebook page ranked up thousands of views overnight. Journalists from The Atlantic, VICE, and others zapped Darwish with emails to write about this film.

 

“It was a difficult task, producing even the shortest video, let alone having to answer all emails and interviews, which is where Sam Zamrik, a friend of mine, comes in play. While I set out for filming, Sam dealt with media interactions, publicity, translations, and whatever else he could help with, Since the beginning, he has been at my side, aiding me with what skills he could salvage.”

 

Haroun, Massih, and Massamari, among other characters in the film were getting their own share of questions. Haroun managed to get a feature on his work in Rolling Stone.

 

“They are reluctant between support and fear, and understandably so, as I am, too; they, however, understand that work of this sort requires dedication, and fear becomes a motive to survive rather than a tool of demise. In a place where everything aims to kill you, fear becomes a primitive driving force against overshadowing danger.”

 

When Darwish would get out of the danger areas, finally able to take a breath, that’s when the threats against his work happened. It wasn’t enough for some extremists and conservatives to be satisfied that he was staying out of politics and they had bigger issues than heavy metal. They believed filming music was a front for something else.

 

Darwish tried fleeing to other cities. He talked over every possible plan with his girlfriend. Finally, he thought about going to Lebanon, or Turkey, but even there were many of the extremists and conservatives who had threatened metalheads even before the war. Finally, a friend suggested the most unlikely of places, Algeria.

 

Although Algeria, like Morocco, had been a conservative society colonized by France in which the Arab and Berber population had ejected the colonialists, Algeria’s bid for independence had given birth to a movement of hardliners who murdered foreigners and censored society.

 

There were heavy metal musicians, but like in Syria before the war they had been treated like cultists and could not play openly. But here was Darwish escaping the Syrian war with his metal film arriving in Algiers. What would happen?

 

“I’m still trying to cope. Electricity here is aplenty, which by itself was a wonder to me, let alone the different dialects, norms, and dietary habits. I miss Syrian food. Man, the things I’d do for a Syrian breakfast! Just when I thought I’d coped with the war, here I am, in another coping stage.

 

“I don’t know what’s next, It’s a struggle being a Syrian nowadays; one has so few-and-diminishing opportunities and chances in the world.”

 

Today Darwish is editing his film as fast as he can, wondering when he will ever see his fiancée and family again while they are still in Syria. Syrian Metal is War, he says, could be a 200+ minute film with all the insane struggles faced by the musicians. But he’s going to cut it down to normal feature length and try his luck with the festivals.

 

The toughest challenge he faces editing in Algiers now is when he finds the video interviews which tell everything about how these people struggled to cope with the war so honestly that it could put their lives at stake, and has to cut those scenes out.

 

Syrian Metal is War will tell the story of Syrian civilians’ struggle to survive in a new way. Although security forces Darwish to make hard choices, whatever film comes out promises to show Syria, and humanity, like no one has seen it before.

 

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