This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Mandoob (The Night Courier), a darkly comedic thriller from Saudi Arabia, became one of the most successful film at the country’s box office just a few years after the 30-year ban on cinemas was lifted. Directed by Ali Kalthami, the film premiered at TIFF last year and became an instant hit with critics and festival goers.
Nominated for Best Feature at Zurich and taking the Audience Award at Torino, Mandoob is a gripping character portrait and rare glimpse into the underbelly of modern Saudi life.
Earlier this month, I spoke to Kalthami about Saudi Arabian cinema and its history, with a focus on the impact of censorship and the return of cinemas in recent years. We also focused on the filmmaking techniques used by the director and how he handles broaching an array of taboo themes through the medium of comedy and noir cinema.
Linda Marric: So how does it feel to sort of be part of this, like a renewed interest in Arab cinema and Saudi cinema?
Ali Kalthami: It’s very exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time because you feel like you’re representing something beyond your control. It puts me in a positive dilemma, if that’s a term, where I have to balance staying authentic while taking on a big responsibility. How do you maintain your original voice while being ambitious and true to yourself and what you represent?
It’s like a yin and yang situation that requires careful navigation. If you care about showcasing your peers, films, and the art scene in Saudi, then I’m all for that—for the sake of art and creative culture in Saudi. Yes, we have an amazing culture and incredible projects, but it’s also important to keep your voice in.
LM: Not to go on about the past too much, but it’s no secret that cinemas were banned in Saudi for more than 3 decades, I’m interested in knowing what kind of movies were you brought up on during those years?
AK: think I was around 14 or 15 in 2001 when my dad bought our first computer. I remember sitting there, trying to figure out what this machine was. I plugged it into the DSL, which made that distinct noise, and it opened up a whole new world for me. I logged into a Kuwaiti forum called Kuwait.com, which had sections on culture, art, and cinema. I spent hours daily exploring these forums, trying to understand things I didn’t have access to before.
I started by picking films from the internet and renting bootleg copies from a store near our house. As I watched more movies, I was introduced to actors like De Niro and Denzel. I realised that some films were very different from others, which led me to discover the role of the director. I became fascinated with filmmakers like Scorsese and Fincher, diving deeper into their work and becoming a better cinephile.
Over about ten years, I consumed as much information and as many films as I could. Then, in 2010, the internet boom brought video to the forefront, and YouTube became huge in Saudi Arabia. I didn’t know anyone in TV, but I had studied computer science, so I was tech-savvy. I got my hands on a camera with a friend, and we started filming and editing videos. At first, we just copied scenes, characters, and techniques we liked, but eventually, we realized we needed to find our own voice.
This period, from around 2012 to 2019, became a whole movement in the online scene.
LM: Were you a fan at all any Arab cinema, like Egyptian cinema… for example, people like Youssef Chahine and so on?
AK: Yeah, yeah. I saw Cairo Station and was baffled by it because I didn’t know it was made in the 1950s. Just processing that information—realising this film was made in the ’50s—made me think about what reality was like back then, both in Saudi Arabia and elsewhere. The techniques, the editing, the compositions, the story, and how it reflects Cairo, especially the station, are all amazing. Later, when I learned more about the director, I found him to be carefree and funny, and I really admire him. I’m eager to see more Egyptian cinema like that again because it has phased out. But there’s a generation within the “tree” of Youssef Chahine —his students and those influenced by him. I still see that influence in some Egyptian films today, but unfortunately, those films are rarely shown in cinemas or even made anymore. Instead, we mostly see comedy-driven commercial films, which is fine—I’m okay with those too.
I also saw Al-Risala (The Message) by Moustapha Akkad when I was young, and it was very popular in Saudi Arabia. It’s a film that tells a story appropriate for all ages, and we all watched it. So, yeah, cinema in the region was, and still is, very popular. We’re seeing a second wave of Middle Eastern films, and there are some amazing ones out there, you know?
LM: Let’s go back to your movie. There’s a distinct noir vibe to it. Visually, for a first-time director, I was really impressed with how you managed to give Riyadh that gritty, big-city look, especially capturing its darker side. Can you talk me through the decisions behind that?
AK: Well, I’ve lived in Riyadh my entire life, so I know the city inside and out. I don’t even use Google Maps—I navigate it naturally because I drive a lot. For years, I’ve noticed how the city transforms during the three weeks in the year when it rains. It becomes a different place, almost magical, and even the people seem happier. I always wished to capture that version of Riyadh on film, and I finally did it with Mandoob.
However, it took me a long time to establish the visual identity of the film. I spent months working with the cinematographer, sharing compositions I admired from Italian and American films, like Michael Mann’s Thief and Taxi Driver.
To truly capture the essence of Riyadh, I hired four videographers and tasked them with documenting the city. For three weeks, they drove around with cameras attached to their dashboards, mapping out the city’s streets and capturing its changes. We then compiled all this footage, which helped us visualize the city and choose the right locations for the film.
I was fortunate to find a cinematographer who was not only technically skilled but also sensitive to the characters and the atmosphere I wanted to convey. I’ve worked with many cinematographers, but he stood out because he didn’t just focus on making things look beautiful or soft—he captured the raw essence of the city and its people.
LM: Let’s talk about the themes in your work. How do you navigate addressing taboo topics that you can’t show directly, but still convey them in a way that your intended audience will understand while avoiding detection by those who might try to censor it? How do you approach that balance?
AK: It took me 10 years to develop this story because I accumulated a variety of storytelling styles from previous projects. For example, in 2013, I shot a scene in London involving two Saudi guys who walk into a bar, but neither of them drinks. One needs a charger for his iPhone, and the other has low blood sugar, so he needs a Coke. They end up judging each other as the only Saudis in the bar, which created a funny scenario.
I’ve explored similar themes before, but in a lighter tone. Over those 10 years, I gradually narrowed down the themes, testing and refining them, learning how to push boundaries while understanding the audience’s comfort zones. This experience shaped Mandoob.
When I first conceived Mandoob, I knew the story was taboo, and people might reject it if I presented it plainly. But by using specific storytelling techniques, carefully crafting characters, and casting the right actors—people the audience already felt comfortable with—I believed they would accept it.
Interestingly, the male lead told me, “Ali, I know you’re scared of this story, and I am too, but if you make the character kind to his family and father, people in Riyadh will like him.” So, in the first 10 or 20 minutes of the film, we deliberately designed his behaviour to be either very extreme or very endearing.
LM: I think what’s interesting about your movie is that you chose to highlight a side of Saudi society that isn’t usually shown or known by many people abroad, especially in the West. When people think of Saudi Arabia, they often think of oil, wealth, and royalty—sheikhs, princes, and kings. How important was it for you to showcase the everyday lives of ordinary people in Saudi Arabia, those who don’t necessarily have great wealth?
AK: Well, it comes from a desire to show this film to Saudi audiences first. I think they’ll appreciate seeing a character like this in today’s world. At the same time, I often find myself abroad where people see me in just one way—like, “Oh, you’re rich,” and it’s with my friends too. I know it’s because of representation, narratives, and the kinds of stories that are told. So, from the start, I wanted to tell stories about everyday people, in a way that’s accessible and speaks for me first, but also connects with the people of Saudi Arabia.
I think people around the world are becoming more interested in Saudi, especially with the great developments happening here. They want to know more about everyday life, but the media sometimes isn’t interested in these kinds of stories—they want something that grabs attention. Having worked in media, I understand how you need a story that grabs people’s attention, but I believe cinema can do more. Cinema lets you experience something for an hour or two, and it tells you much more than just reading a newsletter. That’s how I consumed culture from England and the U.S.—through films and characters that introduced me to their world.
LM: I think we’re at the end of our time, so I’ll ask one last question: What are you working on right now, and do you have any upcoming projects planned, either in Saudi or abroad?
AK: I’m approaching my work now much like I did with Mandoob. I’m developing five stories in parallel, and I choose the one that resonates with me the most at the moment. Currently, I’m working on all five. One of them involves some international actors, which makes sense because Saudi Arabia has become more global in a way. It feels authentic now to include Western characters in our stories because that reflects the life we live today. The other stories are in very different genres, and I’m excited to develop them. Right now, though, I’m also in a phase where I just had a baby daughter and a baby son, so I’m spending a lot of time at home with them and my wife. It’s great to be with them because I was so consumed with the film before. My wife and I are both in the creative industry—she’s preparing for an exhibition, and I’m working on scripts—so it’s a good time for us.
Mandoob is on general release from August 30th
