Iran’s Jafar Panahi Wins Palme d’Or at Cannes/node/2602075/lifestyle
Iran’s Jafar Panahi Wins Palme d’Or at Cannes
Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi made a triumphant return to the global stage, winning the prestigious Palme d’Or for his latest film “It Was Just an Accident” at the 78th Cannes International Film Festival. (AFP)
DUBAI: Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi made a triumphant return to the global stage, winning the prestigious Palme d’Or for his latest film “It Was Just an Accident” at the 78th Cannes International Film Festival.
Panahi, long a symbol of artistic defiance in Iran, had previously faced imprisonment and a 20-year ban on filmmaking and international travel. His emotional appearance at the festival, where he received the award from jury president Juliette Binoche — a vocal supporter of his work — marked a significant moment for both the director and Cannes.
The political thriller centers on a former prisoner who kidnaps the man he believes tortured him and grapples with fellow dissidents over whether to exact revenge or offer forgiveness.
The ceremony also recognized other global talents. Chinese director Bi Gan received a special jury prize for “Resurrection,” while Iraqi filmmaker Hasan Hadi made history as the first from his country to win the Camera d’Or for debut feature “The President’s Cake.”
Brazil’s Wagner Moura took home best actor honors for “The Secret Agent,” a 1970s-set political drama by Kleber Mendonça Filho, who also won best director.
German director Mascha Schilinski and Spain’s Oliver Laxe shared the Jury Prize for their respective films “Sound of Falling” and “Sirat.” The former is a sweeping multigenerational family saga, while the latter explores an apocalyptic vision of the Moroccan desert through techno-infused storytelling.
Actor John C. Reilly surprised audiences with a rendition of “La Vie en Rose” before presenting best screenplay to Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne for “Young Mothers,” the Belgian brothers' latest social drama.
Saudi pavilion makes a splash at London Design Biennale
Updated 05 June 2025
Jasmine Bager
DHAHRAN: “Good Water,” the Saudi National Pavilion that reimagines our relationship with water, is sure to be popular with visitors at the London Design Biennale, which opens today.
Examining water systems, accessibility, equity and scarcity, the pavilion was commissioned by the Architecture and Design Commission and supported by the Ministry of Culture. Presented under the leadership of commission CEO Sumayah Al-Solaiman, it marks the fourth time the Kingdom has taken part in the event.
“In a Biennale that explores the intersection of inner experiences and external influences, ‘Good Water’ reflects the spirit of inquiry we hope to share with the world,” said Al-Solaiman.
“With this pavilion, we are proud to support the next generation of Saudi practitioners and provide platforms that amplify their voices on the international stage.”
Saudi artists Alaa Tarabzouni, Dur Kattan, Fahad bin Naif and Aziz Jamal worked as co-curators, collaborating across various disciplines.
“In the team, we don’t have specific roles,” Jamal told Arab News. “We all collaborated on everything. So the video, we all shot together — we all wrote together. We all have different backgrounds in the arts sector but we’ve worked together (in the Saudi art scene) for the past five years and that’s actually how we came together; it’s more of a democratic process and there’s no kind of strict guidelines.”
Saudi artist Aziz Jamal worked as one of the co-curators. (Supplied)
At the heart of the Saudi contribution in London is the sabeel, a traditional water fountain usually placed and funded privately in a shaded outdoor communal space. It is meant for use by anyone in the community, free of charge.
The sabeel is an enduring symbol of hospitality and generosity, deeply rooted in the Arabian Peninsula and found in many spots throughout the Middle East.
“Growing up in Dhahran, you would see sabeels everywhere. Our house didn’t have one, but there was a mosque in front of our house that had one,” Jamal said.
The London installation strips the sabeel of nostalgia and re-centers it as a contemporary, working object. Visitors are invited to fill their cups — literally and figuratively, as they pause to reflect on the often unseen systems, labor and energy that make the flowing “free” water possible.
Stacks of paper cups will be provided, bearing the message “Good Water: 500 ml = one AI prompt” in vibrant color. There will also be refillable water bottles so spectators can have a “water-cooler moment” to chat, sip and ponder.
The pavilion also features four videos, filmed at an old water factory in Riyadh, showing the painstaking journey of water from droplet to distribution. The screens trace the production process across different sizes of bottles, with each film lasting under 10 minutes.
Jamal’s relationship with water shifted since he started working on this project.
“I have to say, watching and going to visit the water factory (in Riyadh) and seeing the enormous effort that it takes to fill up one tiny water bottle — you don’t take that effort for granted anymore,” he said.
“Before, if there was a little bit of water in my water bottle, I would just leave it, but now it’s like, I make it a point to drink (it) all … to finish my water bottle, because it’s not just a matter of just getting the water filled up, it’s testing it, going through inspection, doing all the mineral checks. It has made me more conscious of every drop.”
Jamal’s aim is for visitors to the pavilion to quench their thirst with that same realization.
“What I really hope for is for people to interact with the piece,” he said. “We want that act of generosity to come through and we want people to drink the water.”
The eco-conscious will be glad to know the sabeel will dispense locally sourced water — not any transported from Riyadh. It will also be indoors.
A printed catalogue written by the curators will also be available, offering further context in the form of essays, research material and images of water infrastructure and sabeels from across the Middle East and North Africa region.
Saudi Arabia is one of the most water-scarce countries in the world. Only 2.5 percent of the world’s water is freshwater, and even less is accessible for drinking. The Kingdom is the largest producer of desalinated water globally, supplying over 60 percent of its potable water, according to the Saudi Pavilion team’s research.
“We thought (the sabeel) was a perfect anecdote to describe the attitude and the general principle behind this concept of water as a human right and not as a luxury,” Jamal said. “It’s free drinking water, but it’s from a private source. So we felt it really encompassed this specific phenomenon in Saudi, of paying it forward and offering water to people who don’t have access to it.”
With “Good Water,” the Saudi National Pavilion puts this scarcity — and the labor behind everyday hydration — center stage.
“Our research was about water and access to water,” Jamal added. “When we were first conceptualizing the piece for the London Biennale, we were looking at the infrastructure and water and access and what’s the hidden cost of free water in Saudi — and specifically looking at the object(ive) of a sabeel: What does this act of generosity and act of making water into a human right mean, and what is the hidden cost of that?”
Though the widespread distribution of plastic bottles has displaced the sabeel to some extent, Jamal emphasized its enduring relevance, especially in a country with scorching summers and large outdoor workforces.
“I think people are on the go, so they need something convenient, but I think water bottles haven’t killed off sabeels completely,” he said. “A lot of the workforce in Saudi, who have more direct contact under the sun and the streets — they still use it all the time. It’s not just drinking water — it’s cold drinking water, and in Saudi that’s very important.”
Jamal joked that after nearly a year of working on this project, the team would raise a glass of water in celebration.
The pavilion will be open until June 29 at Somerset House.
REVIEW: ‘Dept. Q’ — Netflix’s cold-case thriller is fun but flawed
Updated 05 June 2025
Adam Grundey
DUBAI: Netflix’s latest police-procedural is set in Scotland, but based on the novels of Danish writer Jussi Adler-Olsen.
At its heart is detective Carl Morck (Matthew Goode). Morck is one of those cops; you know, great at his job but terrible with people, emotionally stunted, arrogant, divorced, et cetera. Morck and his partner — and best (only?) friend — James Hardy (Jamie Sives) are shot and wounded in a seemingly routine visit to a crime scene, leaving Hardy paralyzed and the junior officer who arrived first at the scene dead. Morck returns to work to discover that his boss has assigned him to head up a new department (established at the behest of her superiors) looking into cold cases — a good excuse to get the troublesome Morck out of the main office and into a dingy basement room where he can’t easily bother anyone.
He’s assigned some assistance: Akram (Alexej Manvelov) — a Syrian refugee who’s ostensibly an IT boffin, but, it quickly becomes clear, is also a very handy detective with some serious combat skills; Rose (Leah Byrne), an eager and capable cadet struggling with her mental health after a fatal accident at work; and, eventually, Hardy.
Their first case is the disappearance and presumed death of prosecutor Merritt Lingard four years previously. The last person to see her alive was her brother William, but he’s unable to communicate having suffered brain damage as a teen. The case’s many tangents lead off into conspiracies, organized crime and more. The truth of it, though, is considerably more prosaic.
The good news: “Dept. Q” — as you’d expect with Netflix money behind it — looks great, with a gritty, noir-ish feel. There’s a genuine chemistry between the members of the titular department, and it has an absorbing mix of dark humor and sometimes-horrifying violence. Sives, Manvelov, and Byrne, in particular, are compelling draws. Goode offers a largely convincing portrayal of a not-very-nice man attempting to become slightly nicer. It’s enjoyable and easy to binge.
But one suspects that “enjoyable and easy to binge” wasn’t the limit of the showrunners’ ambitions, and “Dept. Q” certainly shows the potential to be more than that. It’s let down, however, by some horribly clunky storylines, not least the relationship between Morck and his assigned therapist Rachel (a wasted Kelly Macdonald), which appears to have been lifted from a discarded rom-com pitch. And many will likely find that the ultimate solution to the case stretches credulity well beyond their limits.
Still, it’s clearly set up for a second season (and possibly many more), and there’s enough promise here to believe that “Dept. Q” will find its feet and become a must-see — rather than a maybe-see — show.
Highlights from the Venice Biennale of Architecture
Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale
Updated 05 June 2025
Iain Akerman
Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale.
Bahrain
“Heatwave” presents a meaningful and practical response to the climate crisis.
At first glance, Bahrain’s pavilion isn’t much to look at. A modest modular structure consisting of a raised platform, a suspended ceiling, and a central column, it lacks the artistic clout of other pavilions. And yet, this passive cooling installation designed for public spaces was awarded the Golden Lion for best national participation.
“Heatwave” presents a meaningful and practical response to the climate crisis. By reimagining traditional Bahraini cooling systems, such as wind towers and shaded courtyards, it provides an innovative response to rising temperatures. The pavilion’s design integrates a geothermal well that draws in cool air from below the surface, paired with a solar chimney that releases warm air upwards. Together, these elements form what the designers describe as a “thermo-hygrometric axis,” a system that maintains a mild, regulated indoor climate.
In the exhibition space, where excavation for a geothermal well was not feasible, the system relies on mechanical ventilation, drawing air through a canal-facing window and guiding it through a network of ducts and nozzles to create a controlled microclimate. Importantly, it is designed to be scalable and adaptable to a wide range of environments.
Commissioned by Shaikh Khalifa bin Ahmed Al-Khalifa, president of the Bahrain Authority for Culture and Antiquities, and curated by architect Andrea Faraguna, the pavilion functions as a full-scale, inhabitable prototype. Aimed primarily at meeting the challenges faced by construction workers in the Gulf, the pavilion’s design was developed in collaboration with structural engineer Mario Monotti and thermomechanical expert Alexander Puzrin.
Britain
British Pavilion - Detail from PART's 'Objects of Repair.' (Courtesy of the British Council)
“I call this pavilion a reverse case because it also makes a statement against British colonial rule,” says Yara Sharif, one of the co-founders of the Palestine Regeneration Team (PART). “After all, they were the ones who initiated the exploitation of Palestinian resources. So having a platform within the British Pavilion is, in itself, a statement — a reverse case that says, ‘We are also here to occupy you.’ It’s also a way to challenge the mental occupation; the idea of portraying Palestinians as passive subjects.”
PART’s “Objects of Repair” is a small but vitally important component within the British pavilion’s “Geology of Britannic Repair,” a UK-Kenya collaboration that seeks to expose and rework the entangled legacies of architecture and colonization. In a series of installations, the exhibition proposes earth-bound solutions that resist extractive practices and respond to climate, social, and political upheaval. The British Pavilion received a special mention for national participation.
At the core of PART’s installation, created by Sharif, Nasser Golzari, and Murray Fraser, lies the Travelling Lab, a project inspired by Gazans’ reappropriation of rubble to create new architectural ‘skins.’
“The whole idea behind the Travelling Lab is that it continues to develop and evolve as it moves,” explains Sharif, who is also a co-founder of Architects for Gaza. “We call it a way to cultivate hope, but also to create a matrix of possibilities that may suggest new scenarios and aesthetics to challenge the ones we’re familiar with. The aim of the pavilion is not to create a beautiful object; it’s to provoke a collision, spark discussion, and to draw attention to a context that is continually being rendered invisible.”
Uzbekistan
“A Matter of Radiance,” the Uzbekistan pavilion’s exhibition. (Supplied)
One of the first things you see when entering the Uzbekistan National Pavilion is a heliostat – a mirror system designed to track the sun and reflect its light onto a fixed point. Beyond it lie a control room table, a monumental glass chandelier created by Irena Lipene, and a giant solar screen. All belong to — or are reconstructions of those found at — the Sun Institute of Material Science in Tashkent, one of the city’s Soviet-era modernist structures.
The landmark building, originally known as the Sun Heliocomplex, is the inspiration behind “A Matter of Radiance,” the pavilion’s exhibition. Curated by GRACE studio’s Ekaterina Golovatyuk and Giacomo Cantoni, the exhibition explores the scientific and cultural relevance of the Heliocomplex. In particular, its potential as an international scientific hub.
“This was a catalyst building for its time,” says Gayane Umerova, chairperson of the Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation, who commissioned the exhibition. “The architecture was profound. The designers were given remarkable freedom, and I think it’s important for us to not only celebrate it, but also preserve it.”
Opened near Tashkent in 1987, the Heliocomplex is one of only two major solar furnaces in the world designed to study how materials behave under extreme temperatures. It is also one of 24 key modernist sites spread across the capital, 21 of which have been granted national heritage status.
“It’s important for us to show that this is not just a monolith,” says Umerova of the Heliocomplex, which is currently being used for civilian scientific research. “It’s an art object, in a way, but it’s a living structure.”
The southwestern city may be one of the Kingdom’s fastest-growing, but its appeal is timeless
Updated 05 June 2025
ROBERT BOCIAGA
JEDDAH: A dry wind carries the first sign: a curl of frankincense smoke, sharp and sweet, drifting over the desert flats. It seeps through windows, clings to clothes, lingers on skin. Najran once sat at the center of the incense trade, and the scent still clings to its streets like a memory too deep to wash away.
In Najran’s Old City, sun-drenched alleys wind between mud-brick towers etched with delicate patterns. The buildings lean into one another like elders sharing secrets, their thick walls cool to the touch, smelling faintly of clay and ash.
At the edge of town lies Al-Ukhdood — ancient ruins unfolding in silence, trenches cut through centuries, and soot-darkened stones bearing the scars of fire. There’s no ticket booth, no crowd, just wind brushing across fractured stone. This is where an infamous massacre once unfolded, a horror alluded to in the Qur’an. Now, goats graze nearby, and a boy scrolls through his phone against a wall that has seen empires rise and fall. Here, history doesn’t sleep, it hums softly beneath your feet.
Further into town, the Thursday Market erupts like a drumbeat. The solemnity of the past gives way to present-day vibrance. Silver jambiya daggers flash from stalls, sticky dates glisten under the sun, and fabric bolts in electric blues and deep saffron flutter in the breeze. A vendor hands you a tiny ceramic cup filled with qishr (ginger coffee), fiery and fragrant. Its scent coils in your nose, the first sip stings your tongue, and a strange warmth begins to gather in your chest — a jolt from another time.
Al-Aan Palace in Najran. (Getty Images)
Past the market, Al-Aan Palace rises above the palm groves. Its mud towers glow gold in the late light like a dream from another age. Climbing its narrow staircase, your breath shortens. At the rooftop, it stops altogether. Below, date farms stretch like green lace. Beyond, the Tuwaiq Escarpment flames red in the sinking sun. There is awe, and there is quiet.
The road south of Najran curves, shimmering, into the desert. Follow it to Bir Hima, and you’ll find 7,000-year-old carvings on basalt boulders — hunters, animals, stories too old for language — and drink thick tea under the sun, sweet and dense as syrup, and imagine those long-ago artists tracing their lives into stone.
To explore Wadi Najran, you can rent a bicycle. At first it rolls smoothly through scrub and stone, but then the asphalt ends and sand takes over. The wadi unfolds — vast, veined cliffs shimmer in the light. A shepherd leads his goats past, his voice rising briefly on the wind. The heat is heavy, the bike grows cumbersome, but the land invites you not to conquer it, only to notice.
Prehistoric petroglyphs and inscriptions of Bir Hima. (Getty Images)
Evening comes with a slow hush. The air smells of dust and dry leaves. In the distance, the sky purples, gold slips behind the horizon. Najran lingers not just in your memory, but in your senses. The sting of ginger, the hush of carved stone, the smoke of incense soaked into your shirt. This is not a city you visit. It’s one you carry.
And as night folds in, Najran reveals another layer. The souk’s date stalls, clay homes, and impromptu chai shops reveal not just trade but trust. You’re offered water without price, tea without expectation. A stranger gestures toward his car and home — unstaged, authentic hospitality. In one such home, beneath a full moon and garden perfumed by local incense, a conversation turns to life’s simplicity, peace, and the lies we often believe until we travel. There are no tours or tickets for this part of Najran.
Spend a few days. Let the place press gently into you. Wander the alleys, share the tea, smell the smoke, and listen. You’ll understand why Najran is not simply visited — it’s remembered.
RIYADH: The Saudi Cultural Development Fund (CDF) is showcasing traditional handicrafts from the Kingdom at luxury department store Selfridges in London from June 3-22.
The initiative is taking place during Saudi Arabia’s Year of Handicrafts and is in collaboration with British charity organization Turquoise Mountain, which works to support the production of traditional crafts around the world.
The collection celebrates diverse Saudi artisans and features intricate palm crafts, delicate jewelry and accessories, and fine leatherwork, with an emphasis on showcasing the differences between various regional styles in Saudi Arabia.
Themed around Saudi Arabia’s natural and architectural heritage, the activation highlights work crafted from locally sourced, sustainable materials, reimagined through a contemporary creative lens.
The showcase is being held alongside an exhibition of fashion designs, supported by the Saudi Fashion Commission.
A key milestone in the CDF’s efforts to support the Kingdom’s cultural sector is the recent launch of the Nama’ Accelerators: Handicrafts Track — a dedicated solution that supports cultural businesses through specialized training, mentorship, and financial incentives.
