Working with Music and Humor Director Ghobadiís Explains Making ëMarooned in Iraqí by Ky N. Nguyen Kurdish-Iranian filmmaker Bahman Ghobadi burst onto the international map with the phenomenally successful ìA Time for Drunken Horses,î which won the Camera díOr at Cannes. His second film, ìMarooned in Iraq,î arrives in Washington in a timely fashion. After I met him in his suite at the Jurys Washington Hotel, he told me he had just taken a shower to freshen up after his previous interview. He wryly commented, ìWe Kurds are very fast. Weíre constantly moving, doing things on the run. Thatís the way that we liveólike my films. We eat very fast. We play our music very fast. Everythingís very fast. We take a shower very fast. ìI wake up to music. I go to sleep to music. I hear music all the time. I sing,î he continued. ìItís a very important part of Kurdish life. In the Kurdish experience, there are two things that have kept us going and sane throughout all the wars and the invasions, the displacements.Ö Those two things are music and the sense of humor. Both of those are elements in the film, especially in the first half of the film.î Ghobadi explained that his exposure to cinema took a different turn growing up in Kurdistan. ìWe didnít have many movie theaters. We didnít have television. There was nothing. I saw reality cinema, as it were. Everywhere around me, there were cinematic events taking shape and taking place. That was my cinemaóthe cinema of Kurdistan, which is not in a movie theater. Itís around every corner. Itís in the landscape. Itís in the experiences of the people. ìThere are Kurdish filmmakers everywhere you go without any money. On my street alone, there are 13 new, up-and-coming filmmakers. Itís unbelievable right now. Itís like a virus the way that itís spread. Itís like wildfire.î War, Ghobadi said, is an omnipresent force in his native country. ìOver there, our reality has to do with a constant struggle and a constant war. What we watch here on TV with the war in Iraq Ö these are the images that weíre raised with over there. Itís not through a lens, and itís not through a screen or a TV. Itís there; itís palpable. Itís right next to you. Itís right in front of you. Itís all around you. Thatís the reality of the Kurdish experience. ìWatching the [TV] images, you can imagine that somewhere amidst the homes, thereís a woman whoís giving birth, and thereís a war going on. Nothing is what it seems, and everything is bizarre. Our children canít even play football in the field. Kids run into the field, and their limbs are blown off because itís filled with landmines. Instead of planting agricultural products, [our enemies] are planting landmines.î The director continued, ìHere, you have video games. Over there, you have war constantly being played out in front of you. The children are using guns as their toys. Theyíre stepping all over landmines. Theyíre using remnants of shells and bullets to make jewelry Ö to use them as toys. The empty shells of bombs will be used for plant pots in the home. All around you, you see the remnants of war. ìHere, when children are first born, the first words that they utter are ëmamaí or ëpapa.í In Kurdistan, itís ëwar;í itís ërun;í itís ëcry.í This is the truth. It may seem like itís too unbelievable to imagine, but unless you are there and you see it for yourself, it is hard to imagine. It is hard to believe that people are surviving and somehow are forming their lives within that misery and as a result of that misery.î Ky N. Nguyen is the film reviewer for The Washington Diplomat.