Seven-minute psychodrama, 48-hour challenge winner, debuts at RSIFF

A still from seven-minute psychodrama ‘Wajoom.’ (Supplied)
Short Url
Updated 09 December 2025
Follow

Seven-minute psychodrama, 48-hour challenge winner, debuts at RSIFF

RIYADH: When 2025 began, Maan Yeslam Al-Siari could not have imagined that by the end of the year he would make his professional directorial debut at a major international film festival — in his hometown of Jeddah, of all places.

His seven-minute psychodrama, “Wajoom,” created for the Red Sea Film Fund’s 48-Hour Film Challenge, is screening at the Red Sea International Film Festival.

The story of “Wajoom,” untitled at the time, had been living within Al-Siari for two years. The story critiques corporate culture.

“In a white space without features, Malik arrives to undergo a mysterious evaluation whose purpose is kept secret by a single, strict rule: No questions allowed. From a silent lobby to suffocating rooms, he is subjected to a series of psychological tests that shake his certainty and force him to confront his deepest fears,” the film’s logline reads.

Al-Siari, who often writes scripts in English, welcomed the collaboration with local Arabic wordsmith Saeed Binafif.

“When I found out about the 48-Hour Film Challenge, I decided to immediately apply,” Al-Siari told Arab News. “I used Saeed’s number (the writer) because I had it, and I put my second email because I didn’t know his. I added Haitham Sager’s number (the producer) and added my brother’s email there because I didn’t want to waste time asking for their emails.” 

Coincidentally, a while later, Sager asked: “Why don’t we apply for this challenge?” Al-Siari then cheekily confessed: “We already did — I added you both.”

They were accepted and everything took off from there. 

Shooting took place over a Friday and Saturday in July. They worked tirelessly through the scorching summer heat to secure a spot to film at his university library, requiring special permission. 

Sixty percent of the 30-person crew were classmates handpicked by Al-Siari.

“When we finished the film, only five tickets were allowed for the 48-hour challenge screening in September,” Al-Siari said. “So me, the director, the writer, Saeed, producer, Haitham, main actor, Wadee Hulam and my little brother came. My parents watched it separately.”

His 18-year-old brother later told their mother about his sibling’s surprising leadership: “Thirty people were all respecting Maan — they were all listening to him, Mom!’”

When Arab News asked if it was indeed filmed in 48 hours, the answer was an exhausted “Yes.”

Editing took an extra day, Al-Siari said.

Viewers of “Wajoom” at RSIFF will be treated to new music by a Saudi composer who created a soundscape specifically for the screening. 

A COVID-era high school graduate, Al-Siari had originally applied — and was accepted — to study film in Toronto but instead chose engineering at King Abdulaziz University. 

At the time, there seemed to be no future for filmmaking in the Kingdom. Since childhood, his family had been traveling to Dubai every few months to watch films.

After excelling in his first year of engineering with a stellar grade point average, he found his heart yearned to pursue filmmaking full time. He began to recognize a burgeoning film ecosystem thriving right in his own backyard — and at his own university. He transferred. 

Al-Siari graduated just a few months ago with a degree in visual and media production. Now he’s a Red Sea International Film Festival director. 

“This is my dream,” he said.


Inside the third Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale  

Updated 15 sec ago
Follow

Inside the third Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale  

  • What visitors can expect from ‘In Interludes and Transitions,’ which runs until May 2 

RIYADH: The third Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale, which runs until May 2, features works by more than 70 artists from across the globe, exploring themes of movement, migration, and transition.  

Artistic directors Nora Razian and Sabih Ahmed worked with a group of curators on the biennale, titled “In Interludes and Transitions,” to explore the intersections of geographies, histories and cultures that have connected the Arab region to the world while centering the main motif of procession.  

The biennale is divided into five galleries, as well as various activations, installations and performances.  

Petrit Halilaj's 'Very volcanic over this green feather.' (AN/ Huda Bashatah)

In the show’s Disjointed Choreographies gallery, artists “grapple with their relationships to the past, celebrate the legacy of historical and cultural figures, and tell the stories that shape their worlds.Here, the past does not recede, but strides alongside the present,” the show catalogue states.  

In Disjointed Choreographies, Kosovan artist Petrit Halilaj revisits drawings he made as a child in a refugee camp in Albania, remembering both the beauty and violence around him, in his installation “Very volcanic over this green feather,” while Puerto Rican artist Daniel Lind-Ramo’s cast of assembled sculptures celebrates the enduring bond of a community. Together the works in this gallerycelebrate the collective over the individual. 

Rajesh Chaitya Vangad's untitled work. (Supplied)

In the A Hall of Chants gallery, Ahmed said during a media tour of the biennale, “we’re looking at who the voices are and how muted or amplified we allow them to be. We want to invoke the various voices we’re surrounded by.” He added that Gayatri Spivak's original essay “Can the Subaltern Speak?” was a reference point through which to pose questions: “Are we listening? When do we choose to listen and when do we not? Whose voices become noise, and whose voices remain voices? These often change in history and over time,” he said.  

Although the biennale’s focus is on global movements, the artistic directors have approached the subject choreographically instead of cartographically.  

Pio Abad's 'Vanwa.' (AN/ Huda Bashatah)

For example, in Rajesh Chaitya Vangad’s untitled work, created in the Warli style of painting, we see a choreography of community: a procession of people in celebration, others seeking refuge, children playing, birds flying, rivers flowing, worshippers chanting, the phases of the moon changing. The more you look, the more voices you hear.  

Saudi artist Mohammad Al-Ghamdi mixes his interest in mechanics with traditional artifacts such as doors and windows to form something akin to an aerial image in his untitled mixed media on wood works. Here, discarded items become a language to translate the continuously changing nature of Earth and its cultures.  

Also using earthly items to form a literal language is Filipino artist Pio Abad. His installation “Vanwa” consists of letters carved out of mud bricks created from sand from Riyadh to assemble a traditional poem in Ivatan, a language that is becoming minoritized within the Philippines. Translated, it reads: “Bury me under your fingernails/That I may be eaten along with every food you eat/That I may be drunk along with every cup of water you drink.” 

Ahmed explained: “We wanted it to be in a scenographic conversation with the valley, Wadi Hanifa (which can be seen behind the work), almost as if the Earth is asking us ‘Are we reading between the lines?’” 

The A Collective Observation gallery focuses on diverse knowledge systems and technologies that “shape how we sense the world, from interpreting the cosmic and the geologic, to reading data points and Al-generated models,” examining “the tools and concepts through which we orient ourselves in the present, querying their … infallibility,” the catalogue states. 

In the gallery A Forest of Echoes, there are processions that are poetic, mythological, spiritual, as well as microbial. The catalogue bills it as “a polyphonous transmission of enlivened pasts and possible futures.” 

“Forests are various microhabitats jostling with each other. It’s various forms of life —airborne, landborne, and waterborne — sometimes in generative and regenerative relationships, but sometimes in violent and parasitical relationships. Those are the densities we wanted to include of various ecosystems and microhabitats the artworks themselves are trying to produce,” Ahmed said.  

If we think of the world sonically, he explained, echoes become time capsules that carry singular and collective selves, carry them out, reverberate, and bring them back to us. In that sense, the exhibition also tackles time and coincidence of the past and the present.  

Saudi artist Faisal Samra’s commissioned work “Immortal Moment III,” for example, contemplates his position in the world within cosmic time. On a tent cloth, he performs gestures and improvised choreography to paint a physical representation of abstracted human action.  

Oscar Santillan’s “Anthem,” meanwhile, centralizes tree tumors as a main motif that responds to sounds produced by visitors to create animal-like noises, complemented by AI and synthetic biology, while Shadia Alem’s “Transformation Jinniyat Lar” is a series of acrylic paintings of female Jinns drawing from local and regional folklore that depicts them as custodians and protectors of the river Lar. 

Throughout the biennale, Ahmed said, “we want to invoke processions that are planetary; the sandstorms, the hurricanes, the tectonic plates moving: all of that level of procession, as well as procession that’s social, which means processions of people moving together, having to move by circumstance or by choice, sometimes due to displacement, and sometimes (to seek) better opportunities.”