“After Gaza, You Are Someone Else.” A Conversation with Ola Salama from Filmlab Palestine

Founded in 2014 in Ramallah, Filmlab Palestine has grown from a personal initiative into a vital cultural hub, empowering Palestinian voices by supporting film production and nurturing emerging cinematic talents. In this interview conducted on February 12, 2025, Filmlab executive director Ola Salama offers a profound exploration of the organisation’s evolution and transformative role in Palestinian film culture, and delves into the organisation’s key programmes, its response to the devastating war on Gaza, and the ethical dilemmas faced in sustaining artistic expression under genocide.

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FA: Could you tell us about how Filmlab Palestine began and how it grew to become an important hub for Palestine film culture?

OS: Filmlab was founded in February 2014 by Hanna Attallah, who serves as both its founder and artistic director. Before this, he had worked in the Talbieh refugee camp in Jordan, where he led an initiative teaching youth (17-33) to tell their own stories through documentaries and other artistic mediums. The core idea was to empower them to share their own narratives, rather than being documented by outsiders, because these were their stories to own.

Later, he expanded this initiative to Palestine, officially launching Filmlab in August 2014 with a continued focus on children and youth. That same year, in December, he organised the festival’s first edition. The opening event drew only 100 attendees, compared to the latest edition, when the opening audience had grown to over 1,000. This growth reflects how we have steadily built an engaged audience, fostered a cinema culture, and increasingly attracted more participation each year. What began as a small idea has evolved into something far more significant.

Today, Filmlab operates around five key components. The Space (The Hub) is a collaborative meeting point for filmmakers—a place to network, hold auditions, screen films, and exchange ideas. The facility includes a colour-grading studio, a sound production studio, and an editing suite, all dedicated to supporting Palestinian filmmakers. Given the scarcity of cinema infrastructure in Palestine, these resources are critical.

Talent Development: Over the past decade, we have offered numerous workshops and residencies. However, due to political circumstances, some initiatives—such as our residency program with Medienboard Berlin-Brandenburg—were suspended, particularly following their post-October 7 statements. This compelled us to refocus our efforts on other talent-related projects. For instance, we launched a four-month development lab dedicated to producing films for children, a rare initiative not only in Palestine but across the Arab region. Now in its sixth year, this lab is open to all Arab filmmakers, not just Palestinians. Each year, a jury selects one project to receive production funding. To date, we have supported the creation of five or six short films for children.

The Innovation Lab: This initiative supports Palestinian film production through both in-kind services (including access to postproduction facilities) and competitive grant programs. Notable among these are The Story Lab (previously known as the Sunbird Stories Award) and the Sunbird Production Award, which are announced annually during the festival.

The Cinema Culture Program is our most extensive initiative, and it comprises multiple components. The Next Generation Program offers workshops, screenings, and dialogue sessions for children aged 6–15. Talent Campus is a professional development program where participants create films using professional-grade equipment. Waqtona, launched during the COVID-19 pandemic, operates as a free online platform for children. Notably, we discovered significant viewership in Gaza and Hebron, which is particularly meaningful given the challenges of physical access, particularly to Gaza. Then, through CineClubs, we established screening facilities in community centres in Jericho, Tulkarm, and multiple locations in Gaza Strip (Gaza, Khan Younis, Rafah). Sadly, all Gaza-based centres have since been lost. We also operate the Audiovisual Centre for Children located in the historic Ottoman court in the old city of Ramallah.

Unfortunately, several filmmaking workshops, including a long-running program in four villages near Nablus, are currently suspended due to escalating movement restrictions in the West Bank. In response to these restrictions, we recently launched an intensive eighty-hour audio post-production workshop for seven Palestinian talents. This program provides professional equipment, a structured curriculum, and mentorship. The workshop commenced yesterday.

Finally, Palestine Cinema Days is our annual festival. We were scheduled to celebrate our 10th anniversary edition in 2023, but the war on Gaza forced us to postpone. In response, we partnered with Aflamuna in Lebanon, who proposed organising film screenings on an international scale. The initiative became Palestine Cinema Days Around the World. Initially, we anticipated hosting 10-20 screenings, but after our invitation went viral as it circulated widely among partners and supporters, the project expanded exponentially. In its first year (2023), we organised 171 screenings across 41 countries, a number that grew to 398 screenings in 57 countries by 2024. Given the ongoing genocide in Gaza—now largely silenced in global discourse—we plan to continue this initiative in 2025. The situation remains precarious; if war resumes (as recent news suggests may happen imminently), we risk losing everything once again.

SM: Could you explain how this partnership with Aflamuna began? Palestine Cinema Days Around the World expanded dramatically within just two years, becoming an important event for numerous organisations and individuals worldwide. Could you walk us through its organisation? What was the selection process for host venues, and were the films chosen? Eventually, how did filmmakers respond to this distribution model?

OS: Our partnership started organically. We initially sent invitations to friends and friends of friends, while also releasing an open call on our platforms for potential hosts. The response far exceeded our expectations; we had anticipated one hundred venues would participate, at most. The first year operated solely through direct invitations, but by the second year, we implemented a formal application process for interested hosts.

Regarding film selection, we curated a package of eight films, allowing each host to choose one from this selection. Filmmakers were extremely supportive of this model. One director expressed amazement that their film screened fifty times in a single day. We intentionally selected films that had completed their traditional festival cycles (typically over two years old) and were not bound by active distribution contracts.

What’s particularly noteworthy is how Palestinian filmmakers’ priorities have evolved. Many now explicitly prefer this grassroots approach over conventional festival circuits, with some stating, “I do not care about awards or big festivals—I just want my film seen.” While I believe this shift can be attributed to post-genocide realities, the model’s success demonstrates its growing appeal as a meaningful alternative distribution method.

SM: Over the past decade, Filmlab organised events simultaneously across the West Bank and Gaza, resisting the separation of Palestine and the Palestinian people in this way.

OS: Absolutely. Despite movement restrictions between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, we consistently ensured Gaza’s inclusion. In our most recent edition, we expanded to nineteen venues across Palestine: Ramallah, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Hebron, Jenin, Haifa, Nazareth; in Gaza, we reached Khan Younis and Rafah. When people could not come to us, we brought the cinema to them. I should also highlight the Palestine Film Meetings (PFM)—our industry component during Palestine Cinema Days. This platform has played an essential role in supporting Palestinian filmmakers across all disciplines through workshops, pitching sessions, and networking opportunities with producers and funders. It has traditionally served as a crucial space for professional growth.

But this year? Honestly, hosting Cinema Days in Palestine does not feel appropriate. We are contemplating a very limited edition, but we believe it is far more significant to continue sharing our narrative globally once again.

The devastation in Gaza has compelled us to undergo a profound reinvention. We are trying to redefine our role, recognising that we must not only amplify Palestinian narratives but also critically examine what narratives we produce and disseminate. It is not an easy process. Like many individuals and organisations, we can no longer continue operating as before. This moment demands self-reflection and a reassessment of our values.

We are currently producing Ghazawiat, a short film series documenting the experiences of women in Gaza during the war. The title – meaning “Women from Gaza” – reflects its focus on their extraordinary resilience in the face of unimaginable loss—of partners, children, and even basic privacy. As a Ghazawiya myself, this project holds deep personal significance.

In the second year of the war (following October 7), we launched AlAwneh—a name drawn from Palestinian tradition, symbolising collective support. This initiative provided direct, unconditional financial assistance to Gazans sharing their stories on social media. Unlike traditional aid models, AlAwneh imposed no requirements – no branding, reporting, or restrictions – only a commitment to sustaining the resilience of Gaza’s people through storytelling.

During this same period, we managed to organise thirty screenings for children across the Gaza Strip, in Al-Mawasi and Deir al-Balah. These were incredibly well-received, and we have since received many requests for adult screenings. We explored possibilities such as screenings at the Maamadani (Baptist) Hospital, which has access to electricity, but obtaining permissions from all necessary parties remains challenging. Generally, however, after speaking with local filmmakers and technicians, we recognise it may be too early for screenings in Gaza, as most people are focused on survival, searching for water, shelter, and basic necessities. Our current plan is to equip a mobile cinema unit that can operate whenever and wherever conditions allow. Personally, I would love to hold a screening at the port—a place I deeply love and one that all Gazans cherish. When the situation stabilises and the weather improves, perhaps we could organise something meaningful there.

FA: In the past two years, your work has taken on new urgency. Could you share how these collaborations – particularly those reaching Gaza’s filmmakers and audiences – have transformed under the current conditions? We want to understand both the practical challenges and the human impact of sustaining cinema in this reality.

OS: The events in Gaza have reignited global and regional focus on the Palestinian issue. Over the past two years, regional festivals have dedicated unprecedented attention to Palestine. Our collaborations with these festivals have positioned Palestinian cinema as both a tool of resistance and a documentary medium, preserving our narratives through film. We have curated specialised programs highlighting diverse Palestinian realities. We did so in Gaza, the West Bank, historic Palestine, and the diaspora, such as Little Palestine, which chronicles life in the Yarmouk Refugee Camp. Other programs examine how segregation and fragmentation have shaped our narrative.

The genocide was broadcast live—it required no explanation. Yet cinema serves a distinct purpose. While news reports may fade from memory, films endure. This is why we approach cinema as both a weapon of resistance and an instrument for sustaining our narrative.

SM: Could you elaborate on your relationships with supportive organisations, both local and regional? We are particularly interested in how these partnerships developed and what makes them successful. I would also love to hear about your collaborations with other festivals. Essentially, I want to understand what makes for strong partnerships, especially in the context of limited local funding and government support.

OS: Of course. I believe the most crucial aspect of any partnership or collaboration is not funding—it is the value of the network. For example, regionally, we have worked with Aflamuna (previously known as Beirut DC). These collaborations are about partnership and the strength of the network. They supported us logistically in organising Palestine Cinema Days Around the World, as we mentioned. They stood by us during the genocide’s early days when we felt completely lost and powerless against such overwhelming violence.

At that time, stopping the genocide was all that mattered, though it was beyond our – or anyone’s – control. This is precisely why I emphasise that funding is not the most important factor. Were we to focus only on funding, we might accept conditional support from the EU or other consulates. What truly matters is shared values, aligned goals, and genuine friendships—relationships that have sustained us these past two years far more than any financial support.

We have also cultivated significant partnerships with regional and international festivals, where we have coordinated panels, discussions, and screenings addressing Palestine, the ongoing crisis, and narratives emerging from this genocide. These include the Amman Film Festival (Jordan), Gouna Film Festival (Egypt), Point Doc (Tunisia), Sharjah International Film Festival (UAE), Carthage Film Festival (Tunisia), CPH:DOX, Docs Ireland, and Landscape of Hopes in Amsterdam, where they hosted an event focusing on themes of justice and resilience through art. We also curated a film program and a panel for Children Meet Cinema in Japan, in which we focused on our Next Generation Program and cinema for kids. For us, this represents the true essence of meaningful collaboration.

Beyond festivals, we maintain close partnerships with community centres throughout Palestine. Given the absence of traditional cinema halls, we have learned to transform any space into a screening venue. During Palestine Cinema Days, we have simultaneously operated up to nineteen venues—none of which were commercial theatres. Only two properly equipped spaces exist: Ramallah’s municipal theatre and the A.M. Qattan Foundation’s screening hall. For all other locations, we collaborate to provide the necessary equipment to create temporary cinema spaces.

Our Masahat project represents another critical initiative, focusing on alternative distribution. This has become crucial not just in Palestine but globally. During Palestine Cinema Days Around the World, we have witnessed participants hosting screenings in private residences. This demonstrates that meaningful cultural exchange is not dependent on major festivals – a limitation starkly revealed during last year’s Berlinale – but rather on forging authentic connections and meeting audiences where they are.

The post-2023 landscape demands innovative thinking. The genocide has caused a narrative shift: where Palestinians were previously framed as terrorists opposing a legitimate state, growing international recognition now identifies Israel as a colonial regime and acknowledges our struggle’s legitimacy. Protecting and advancing this narrative remains imperative.

This is why we cannot compromise our values for mainstream festival access. Alternative distribution gains profound significance in this context. Palestine Cinema Days Around the World’s reach—400 venues across 57 countries in one day—demonstrates that traditional festival circuits aren’t prerequisites for substantial cultural impact.

But let me tell you something—I have a problem. After what happened in Gaza… it is as if I have forgotten everything from before October 7. I have forgotten how we used to live. I have forgotten how I used to sleep. I have forgotten how to be calm. Now I am constantly nervous. I could cry anywhere—in any space, any place, even in official meetings. Anything can trigger me. Sometimes I feel like I have lost whole parts of myself. But yesterday, watching the news about Trump’s plan for Gaza and the world’s response… I realised: We need global collaboration now. This is the moment for cultural resistance, resilience, and solidarity. We Palestinians cannot do this alone. And I believe cinema—it can endure and convey far more emotion than news coverage. It is a powerful way to test people’s humanity, beyond labels of Arab, Palestinian, or Muslim. The people of Gaza have done everything possible. You cannot look at them – returning to nothing on January 25, no homes, no electricity, nothing – and say, “We will erase them.” These are people who insisted on remaining on their land, even though 86% of Gazans are already refugees. They refuse to be displaced again.

We cannot simply return to how things were before October 2023. What drives me mad is knowing that once the cameras turn away, the world will forget Gaza. Even now—do people truly comprehend the situation in Rafah, Khan Younis, Jabalia, Beit Lahia? No water. No food. No electricity. People do not realise we are still witnessing a genocide in Gaza—it has just become silent. Our duty is to sustain this narrative, to make sure the world does not forget. And what is happening now in Jenin, Tubas, Tulkarem, and Nablus? The same story. No one speaks of it. This is our responsibility as Palestinians: to keep speaking. Films achieve what news cannot—they make people feel.

FA: Given the ethical dilemmas Palestinian cultural organisations face – particularly regarding funding from entities complicit in violence – could you share how Film Lab navigates these tensions? I’m especially interested in examples where you’ve had to make difficult refusals or compromises to maintain your principles.

OS: While I’ll refrain from naming specific entities, I can confirm that following the war on Gaza, we made the deliberate decision to return certain funds. One donor asked, “What about your festival losses? Please keep the money.” We were ready – we had bought everything – but how could we prioritise that amid genocide? This particular donor’s government was directly financing the genocide in Gaza. I explained that no institutional loss could compare to Gaza’s devastation, and we refused to participate in such political whitewashing, where cultural funding in the West Bank attempts to offset military violence in Gaza. We are one people and cannot legitimise this dichotomy. Consequently, we returned the funds. To be very honest, we are struggling financially and operating under a very high deficit. But we refuse to compromise. As for most Arab donors, they only see us as charity cases—food coupons, not culture. It is challenging to survive in this environment.

SM: Since the war on Gaza began, have you noticed significant changes in the kinds of films Palestinian filmmakers are choosing to make, both in terms of production realities and the narratives they’re drawn to? I am particularly interested in whether the current moment has transformed creative priorities or approaches in the West Bank film community.

OS:  No fundamental shift has occurred, to be honest. While we now have filmmakers completing post-production here – with our operational audio studio and workshops – the underlying reality remains unchanged. The pervasive sense of confinement persists. Segregation has fractured any collective creative spirit.

That said, we have undergone a complete organisational reinvention this past year. This re-inception forces us to confront existential questions: What role should we now play? How must we serve the narrative? Do we even merit continued existence? The funding dilemma looms large—we reject conditional support and any funds from genocide-complicit nations, but this raises urgent sustainability challenges.

After months of stakeholder meetings, we’re redefining every parameter: Which projects warrant support? Which emerging voices? What production models align with our post-genocide values? Mahmoud Darwish wrote, “From now on, you are someone else.” I would adapt this: After Gaza, you are someone else. Business as usual would render us irrelevant. This conviction unites our entire team.

FA: Are you pausing Palestine Cinema Days this year too?

OS: Yes, we have decided to pause the festival. At this moment, our priority is global narrative amplification—sharing Palestinian stories worldwide. We continue regular programming with monthly screenings of two films in Ramallah, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem year-round. However, a full festival requires market days, filmmaker networking through Palestine Film Meetings with international producers, and robust partnerships. Given current realities, we believe postponing until conditions improve is prudent. Our strong 2022 edition sets the standard—we will wait until we can match that impact. A genocide context makes proper execution impossible. So, we have redirected efforts to Palestine Cinema Days Around the World and children’s screenings in Gaza, as mentioned earlier.

Last year’s scaled-down local edition featured films from Palestine, Lebanon, Sudan, Yemen, and Iran—including impactful works like Yemen’s The Burdened (2023) and an Iranian documentary titled Seven Winters in Tehran (2023). We also screened a film examining Christian Evangelical support for Israel. Crucially, we insisted on holding the opening in Gaza—a symbolic declaration that nothing happens without Gaza’s inclusion.

FA: Finally, is there a particular Filmlab-supported film that embodies these values and has especially resonated with you?

OS: We have supported different short films and documentaries. One film I deeply admire – and have watched four times, each viewing leaving me heartbroken – is Upshot, a 35-minute short by Maha Haj from Nazareth. Released in 2024 but conceived during the 2021 war, it articulates with profound clarity what I could never express about how Gazans endure loss, giving voice to emotions they rarely share. I always recommend it. Its cinematic power was palpable during its Al-Gouna Film Festival screening, where the audience’s connection to its portrayal of grief reaffirmed cinema’s unique role: unlike news, it immortalises the unspoken.

Another profound, impactful documentary is A State of Passion (2024), which chronicles Ghassan Abu Sitta – a Palestinian born in Kuwait, educated in the UK, and residing in Lebanon – who abandoned his privileged career as a plastic surgeon to serve in Gaza. The film poignantly captures his family’s sacrifices, challenging assumptions about diaspora disconnection by showcasing someone who consciously rejected comfort for his principles. His wife’s Gazan roots further shaped this commitment, making Gaza the homeland for their children.

These are precisely the narratives we prioritise—uncompromising stories that redefine Palestinian identity. For documentaries, I consistently recommend A State of Passion; for features, Upshot remains essential viewing. Both films exemplify the urgent stories we must amplify.