The Moroccan-Lebanese writer-director pens an open letter about time, memory, and her profound experience making her short film "Everything Will Disappear" in her grandparents' house in Morocco.
I spent a good portion of my childhood thinking about time, observing its effects on the hands and memory of my aging grandfather, a man I’ve loved with all my heart. Starting at the age of 12, I would wander around the house, secretly capturing and stealing away moments of life with my phone camera. Perhaps this is where my journey as a filmmaker began—the urgent need to immortalize what I knew would eventually disappear.
During the pandemic, Morocco had closed its border. Far way from home, my obsessions grew stronger: what if my grandfather doesn’t recognize me when I return home? I fictionalized my biggest fears, and began writing a story where every character has a different relationship with time. Amira has been gone for three years. What’s the impact of these years on her grandfather, her family members, her ex-boyfriend, her house? Does her grandfather still love her if he has forgotten about her? Does love resist the flaws of memory?
Fast forward to Marrakech in July 2023, in the now-empty house of my grandparents. I haven’t slept for thirty days; anxiety fills up my entire body as I think about the fact that an entire cast and crew, whom I had convinced based on words written on paper and dellusions, were about to show up here and embark on the personal journey of my short film. A journey I was taking on for the first time, both as a director and an actress. And it’s 46 degrees celsius, and we have no AC! Needless to say, we’ve encountered on set and still do in post-production,( sometimes I wonder if there’s a hidden camera gag entitled “how many times will you cry making a short film? ” somewhere), all the difficulties a debut short film could encounter.
But as soon as I shouted the first “Action!” of my life, something mysterious unfolded. Depending on where I stood, I found myself traveling through time. On-camera, I became my past self, a nineteen-year-old gripped by apprehension about everything that would soon vanish. Behind the lens, I was my present self, a 24-year-old returning home to encapsulate everything that had disappeared and that I yearned to bring back to life. For a fleeting moment, I resurrected my grandfather and his house. During the scenes with Pascal Greggory (interpreting the role of a grandfather), my heart brimmed with so much joy that I wished those moments could last forever. While some directors might yell “CUT!” to end filming, mine were almost like whispered farewells.
In September 2023, a month and a half after we had finished shooting, a horrific earthquake of magnitude 6.8 struck Morocco near Marrakech. May my prayers be with all the victims. I was in the editing room when my mother FaceTimed me. I couldn’t believe it. On the one hand, she was showing me all the places in the house that had turned into dust. “This got destroyed! And that got destroyed,” my mother was saying. On the other hand, I was looking at those places, beautiful and untouched memories of my childhood, on the AVID screen in front of me. In shock, the first thing that came to my mind was, “but we’ve got it on film, Mum; we’ve got it on film… and a fucking expensive one!” And somewhere in the mysterious and sacred intersection between Life and Cinema, nothing can beat that. The magic of cinema is that time is no longer a threat; “it’s just a trick”—a reminder of Jeppe’s final words in La Grande Belleza.
With the continuous support of newly founded NY-based distribution company Azzurra Films, like any young director, I too dream of showcasing it on a grand stage before an audience whose work has both inspired and nurtured in me a deep love for the Cinema. The destiny of this short film remains uncertain. Like any young director, I too dream of showcasing it on a grand stage before an audience whose work has both inspired and nurtured in me a deep love for the Cinema. Regardless of whether the film achieves “traditional” success or descends into the abyss, I can only express gratitude to the art, my cast, and my crew for granting me the magical pleasure to play tricks with time.
