Soudade Kaadan is a Syrian director who was born in France. Her films have screened at several venues nationally and internationally and have received international awards. Her latest documentary, “Obscure,” premiered at CPH:DOX Festival in March 2017. “The Day I Lost My Shadow” is her first feature fiction film.
“The Day I Lost My Shadow” will begin screening at the 2018 Toronto International Film Festival on September 11.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
SK: It’s Syria 2012, in the early stages of the war. Sana doesn’t care about politics — all she is trying to do is to find cooking gas to prepare a meal for her son. It’s the coldest winter in Damascus, and with the gas crises, electricity cuts, and economic deterioration, it’s the only source of heat. She decides to search for a gas far from the center of the city and she gets sucked in the besieged area.
It’s at this moment that she discovers that people lose their shadows during the war, as if they are losing something of themselves. The film starts with a realistic approach and shifts to magical realism once the war deeply affects the characters.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
SK: I was in Damascus when the peaceful demonstration started, and I witnessed how it’s rapidly transformed to a cruel war. As I was a documentarist before the war and suddenly I felt unable to make films. The pain and the shock of horror rose to a level beyond what I thought a film could capture. It felt like nothing could reflect the atrocity of the war — until I saw the photos of Hiroshima the day after its complete destruction and I saw shadows of the people burned on the ground.
It felt like [what was going on] in Damascus, in our war, the opposite happened: we are still alive walking but we lost our shadows completely. It’s then that I started to write the script, in the coldest winter Damascus had seen — or it least it felt that way, with electricity cuts, gas crises, friends disappearing in prisons or to the unknown, and with non-stop bombing nearby.
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
SK: It’s a difficult question. You make films and then leave them to the audience and to their personal experience and point of view. Everyone has his or her own interpretation. But what I deeply wish, and hope, is that the movie will touch them, and that it will make them feel more connected to the citizens who endured the war in Syria. And to realize it could be them — it could be anyone in war.
Also, I would be happy and proud if they felt that the film tells a story about war using a different artistic approach than what they are used to, and what they are used to seeing about Syria from the news. I hope the film’s language, and our perception of the human political context is as rich and surprising as what we endured in war and exile. It’s just a wish.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
SK: When I started writing the film in Syria, where I first started getting financing, I didn’t imagine that leaving my country would make everything almost impossible. To make an independent Syrian movie in exile, while most Syrians were scattered around the world, was the first big challenge. Moving to Lebanon, a country that received a huge number of Syrian refugees — which caused tensions to rise there — made it even more challenging to make an independent Syrian film there.
As filmmaker and as human being, that moment felt like I had not only lost my country, I had also lost all of my contacts, my network, the local support, and the people who could sponsor the film and be proud they were making a film that represented them.
As a first-time feature fiction filmmaker, I lost all the infrastructure that helps indie films survive — even the shooting locations. And I had to start from zero. That’s why I’m so grateful and proud of the members of the crew who truly believed in the film and made it with us.
Besides the cast that is all Syrians, the crew has multiple nationalities who struggled [and worked hard] to make a Syrian film. I’m proud that the film was made with a multinational team — including Syrian, French, Greek, and Lebanese folks — who believed in us and helped us make it.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
SK: Since the beginning we decided that me and my sister, the delegate producer of the film, Amira Kaadan, would search for every fund possible for the film as a Syrian production. It was important for us that the film hold the Syrian nationality as production country.
As the Arab region is short of important funds for films, the strategy was to apply to all funds related to films and human rights. We submitted hundred of applications even if we knew they be refused. It was a long process of seven years, during which we acquired the support of funds that helped us make the film. We received support from Doha Film Institute, AFAC, Busan’s ACF Fund, Cinereach, Prince Claus Fund, Shubbak Festival, Human Rights Fund, and SANAD. With our co-producer we could get the Aide Aux Cinemas du Monde and Hubert Bals Fund.
At the end we were only able to finalize the film once we had additional support from Metafora.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
SK: I never thought that I would become a filmmaker. There is no cinema school in Syria, and there was only one functioning cinema in Damascus for commercial movies. Most films were banned, and cinema wasn’t included in our educational system. So, I studied theater in the High Institute of Damascus where men were naturally encouraged to be the directors and somehow women were only researchers and writers.
When I held a video camera for the first time to film my first shot, I immediately knew that this is what I wanted to do all my life. I was 24 years old.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
SK: We had a lot of good advice while making the film. As it was our first feature fiction film for me as director and for my sister as producer, we reached out throughout the process to friends, directors, producers, and programmers for advice. We felt grateful to [those who offered insights].
The struggle to make independent films is so hard — you need all those friends around you to make it. I hope to be there for their films, too.
Worst advice: You can make a co-production without meeting in person. A co-production is a long journey. It can take years: it should be based on a mutual trust, and on a past friendship or acquaintance where you feel they believe in you, and believe in the film, in your culture, and in working with a woman filmmaker and woman producer. Having a human relationship and sympathy is as important as professionalism to make a film.
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
SK: Simple advice: Make your film. There is not a single logical reason that should stop you from making the film the way you envision it. And support other women filmmakers. Each woman filmmaker who gets to make her film and gets recognition helps us all to get equal rights in funding, production, and presenting our movies in festivals and acquiring distributions.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why
SK: I actively look and search for films directed by women because women directors often focus on female characters and don’t take a stereotypical approach when depicting women. I watch almost a film per day unless I’m shooting or editing, so the list is long. To name few of my favorite women directors: Andrea Arnold, Claire Denis, and Jane Campion. From the Arab world: Hala Lotfy, Kaouther Ben Hania, and Danielle Arbid. Each one of them has a unique approach and cinematic language.
W&H: Hollywood and the global film industry are in the midst of undergoing a major transformation. What differences have you noticed since the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements launched?
SK: Women’s voices in the industry are being heard now. That should have been happening a long time ago.
