Moroccan singer Batma’s cosmetic procedures distract her audience

Dounia Batma
Updated 15 December 2017
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Moroccan singer Batma’s cosmetic procedures distract her audience

BEIRUT: During her appearance on the “Nights of Kuwait” TV show on Wednesday, the audience could not help but notice the dramatic changes to Moroccan singer Dounia Batma’s facial features due to numerous cosmetic procedures, Sayidaty Magazine reported.
Batma is a Moroccan singer who rose to popularity around the world as the runner-up of the first season of Arab Idol on MBC. She lost the title against Egyptian contestant Carmen Suleiman.
An Instagram user shared footage from Batma’s interview and wrote: “I am more occupied with inspecting the changes in her looks than in listening to what she’s saying.”
In her response to the criticism, Batma said: “Sticks and stones are only thrown at fruit-bearing trees. I am continuously faced with criticism, which is the biggest proof of my success, and this makes me happy because I consider it equally positive.”
She added: “Harsh criticism cannot be justified. The problem is that people judge others even without meeting them or speaking directly to them to learn more about their character.”
Batma said of her critics: “May Allah guide them.” She added: “Nowadays, kindness, goodness and spontaneity are a problem. The truth has become a lie and lies have become the truth.”
During the show, Batma said of her daughter: “Ghazal’s best quality is her beautiful voice, which resembles mine. I will share her photos on New Year’s Eve.”
 


Pressures and pains that tear a couple apart

A still from the film.
Updated 19 July 2018
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Pressures and pains that tear a couple apart

DENVER: Like a gallery wall-sized enlargement of a microscopic image, “Scenes from a Marriage” is all about size, space and perspective.
Directed by Ingmar Bergman — whose birth centenary was marked this week — at 281 minutes long, its unwieldly length presents an intimidating canvas, yet the claustrophobic intimacy of its gaze is unprecedented: The two leads are alone in nearly every scene, many of which play out for more than a half-hour at a time.
Premiered in 1973, the work is technically a TV mini-series, but such is its legend that theaters continue to program its nearly five-hour arc in its entirety. A three-hour cinematic edit was prepared for US theater consumption a year later (it won the Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film, but was ruled ineligible for the corresponding Oscar).
Not a lot a happens but, then again, everything does. Shot over four months on a shoestring budget, its six chapters punctuate the period of a decade. The audience are voyeurs, dropped amid the precious and pivotal moments which may not make up a life, but come to define it.
We meet the affluent Swedish couple Marianne and Johan — played by regular screen collaborators Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson, both of whom clocked at least 10 Bergman credits — gloating about ten years’ happy marriage to a visiting reporter. This opening magazine photoshoot is the only time we see their two children on camera, and inevitably the image projected is as glossy, reflective and disposable as the paper it will be printed on.
The pressures, pains and communication breakdowns which tear this unsuited pair apart are sadly familiar. The series was blamed for a spike in European divorce rates. It may be difficult to survive the piece liking either lead, but impossible not to emerge sharing deep pathos with them both. Sadly, much of the script is said to be drawn from Bergman’s real-life off-screen relationship with Ullmann.
It’s a hideously humane, surgical close-up likely to leave even the happiest couple groping into the ether on their way out of the cinema.