Saturday, 27 September 2025

CINEMA REBORN - SEPTEMBER NEWSLETTER - Dates for 2026, Tax Deductible Charitable Donations, A new book by Lucia Sorbera

 CINEMA REBORN 2026 - DATES AND VENUES

Cinema Reborn 2026 will be rejigging our format. In 2026 in Sydney and Melbourne we will open on a Friday evening and conclude our season on the next Sunday. In Sydney the season at the Randwick Ritz will run from Friday 1 May to Sunday 10 May and in Melbourne at the Hawthorn Lido from Friday 8 May to Sunday 17 May. We expect over that time to screen between 20-22 programmes in each city, depending on the running times of each of the films chosen. There will be repeat screenings of some of the films on weekdays in Sydney from Monday 4 May to Friday 8 May and in Melbourne from Monday 11 May to Friday 15 May. MAKE A DIARY ENTRY NOW!


Lido Cinema 1 (before / after) 

TAX DEDUCTIBLE CHARITABLE DONATIONS FOR CINEMA REBORN 2026 NOW OPEN

The major cost of presenting Cinema Reborn comes from the screening fees paid to archives and producers. Since our inception supporters have understood the need for continuing support to ensure that the annual season is able to present the very latest and very best international and Australian film restorations.

Tax deductible charitable donations have enabled us pay these fees and keep our admission charges to regular Ritz and Lido prices (with the lowest student concessions of any similar film-related event). We have once again set up a page via the Australian Cultural Fund to receive donations of any size, large or small. You can find it IF YOU CLICK ON THIS LINK

A NEW BOOK BY ONE OF CINEMA REBORN’S GREAT SUPPORTERS LUCIA SORBERA

Associate Professor Lucia Sorbera is Chair of Arabic Language and Cultures, University of SydneyShe is one of Cinema Reborn's strong supporters. She wrote the excellent program notes for the Cinema Reborn screenings in 2024 of Tewfik Saleh's The Dupes (Syria, 1972), which she also introduced, and wrote the notes for the Cinema Reborn 2025 screenings of Heiny Srour's Leila and The Wolves (UK/Lebanon/France, 1984). Lucia has now published, Biography of a Revolution. The Feminist Roots of Human Rights in EgyptUniversity of California Press, 2025. Below is some information about the book. Copies are on sale at Better Read Than Dead Bookshop in Newtown or online (more expensive) at Booktopia.


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It is not Egypt's 2011 revolution that opened a space for women's and feminist activism, but—as this book shows—the long history of women's activism that created the intellectual and political background for revolution. By centring the experiences and ideas of multiple generations of women activists and intellectuals, Lucia Sorbera traces the feminist genealogies of Egypt's nationalist, student, Marxist, labor, human rights, and democratic social movements. Biography of a Revolution gathers a series of interrelated intimate and relational stories, charting in vivid detail the entanglements between women's aspirations across a century of politics and friendships. This historical analysis innovatively deploys decolonial and indigenous feminist epistemologies, bringing women's, gender, and feminist history into the centre of Egypt's political, social, and intellectual history. More than a decade after the 2013 military coup, women's intellectual and political activism remains crucial to keeping the embers of revolution aglow.

No end to Tom Ripley - so a revisit to John Baxter's thoughts on John Malkovich's impersonation - RIPLEY'S GAME (Liliana Cavani, 2002)

Three Ripleys - Andrew Scott, Matt Damon, John Malkovich

As fast as we thought the only remaining possible iteration of Tom Ripley and his talents might be a musical, perhaps in the late Sondheim fashion where sets are mostly bare and we just have the words and music, (though dont hold our collective breath. As far as I know we are still waiting on a production of the great man's Passion, his brilliant version of Ettore Scola's wonderful movie Passione d'Amore..but I digress....)

But no there's yet another iteration, this time by the Birmingham Rep (I'm not joking)...you can find The Guardian's review here.

It prompted John Baxter to suggest prolonging this attention by republishing his note on RIPLEY'S GAME (Liliana Cavani [and John Malkovich uncredited], 2002)

If one experiences a twinge of alarm at the occasional sight of John Malkovich solemnly pedalling his old-fashioned upright bicycle down Boulevard St. Germain, it’s attributable to his performance in this little-known contribution to the growing mythos surrounding Patricia Highsmith’s Tom Ripley.

 

The story develops so naturally that only in retrospect does its implicit nihilism become apparent. Ripley is enjoying the luxury of a Palladian villa in rural Italy and a sleek wife (Chiara Caselli) who is also a harpsichord virtuoso, when a local expat, Jonathan Trevanny (Dougray Scott), casually insults him at a party.

 

Ripley discovers that Trevanny is dying from leukemia and needs money to provide for his wife and child, so when Reeves, his former partner in crime (a marvellously vulgar Ray Winstone) needs someone killed, Ripley, mostly, it seems, to amuse himself, proposes Trevanny for the job and nudges him into taking it.

 

Thereafter, the story speeds down corridors of carnage, with numerous low-lifes shot, garrotted, caught in mantraps and beaten to death with blunt objects. With each death, Trevanny becomes more comfortable with killing, and begins to look up to Ripley as his sensei : an instructor not only in murder but in the philosophy that underpins it.

 

To Ripley, who has no moral compass, the whole episode is another round in the game that is his life. When there’s nobody to kill, he gets on with his chores, pausing, for instance, in the middle of incinerating the morning’s harvest of corpses to call a florist and order peonies for his wife’s concert. This element is better captured in the film’s French title Ripley s’amuse : Ripley Amuses Himself or, more precisely, Ripley Has Some Fun.

 

However much there is to admire in Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr.Ripley and René Clément’s Plein Soleil, aka Purple Noon, neither captures the sociopathic chill of Highsmith’s original. [I’m less familiar with Wim Wenders’ The American Friend and Roger Spottiswoode’s Ripley Underground.] 

 

Matt Damon is too much the upwardly mobile yuppie, impatient for his unearned rewards, and Alain Delon the mindless satyr, greedy for life. The way Delon dives below on the yacht where he had just murdered Maurice Ronet and returns to bite into a ripe peach as he takes the wheel says everything we need to know about his moral landscape.


As for Damon, he brings to mind Lucy in Peanuts and her petulant “All I want is what’s coming to me.” Neither offers any insight into the reasons behind their murders and lies. The acts justify themselves

 

Malkovich’s Ripley has arrived at a measured assessment of his nature, and that of the world in which he lives. When the innocent Trevanny asks how he can kill with such sang froid, Ripley replies “I lack your conscience - and when I was young that troubled me. It no longer does. I don’t worry about being caught because I don’t believe anyone is watching.”

 

Being so little involved allows him to toss off non sequiturs with faultless deadpan. Warning Trevanny of possible repercussions to his assassinations, he concedes thoughtfully that those seeking retribution will target him rather than Trevanny because “these Balkan types tend to take strangling quite personally,” and after garrotting two men in the toilet of the Berlin-Dusseldorf express and almost killing a third, he muses “It never used to be this crowded in first class.”

 

'....Ripley owes almost everything to Malkovich...."

Ripley’s want of guilt or scruple is implicit in his sideways glances in the midst of an act of violence, his way of pausing in the midst of a skirmish to run an appreciative finger down the curve of a thigh in a mural, and in the casual manner in which he imposes his will with a few evenly modulated words, tonelessly repeated.

 

When Trevanny sneers at a party that Ripley has “too much money and no taste” Ripley, expressionless, simply enquires “Meaning?” Trevanny offers a kind of explanation. Ripley repeats “Meaning?” and continues to do so until Trevanny flees the scene. Later, when Ripley’s wife, as they start to make love, asks how he intends to act in a certain situation, he says “Turn over and I’ll tell you,” and repeats the order until she surrenders with a contented sigh to the sure, if cruel, touch of a skilled handler.

 

Assigning credit for this chill and glittering exercise in amorality is not easy. Director Liliana Cavani co-wrote the screenplay with Charles McKeown, author of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, but clearly the complex portrait of Ripley owes almost everything to Malkovich. He also took over when Cavani left to direct an opera at La Scala, and is responsible for about a third of the completed film, which was never given a cinema release in North America and barely seen elsewhere.

 

Fortunately a 2004 DVD does justice to the wintry Italian landscapes and the silky, truffled luxury of Ripley’s existence. If life is indeed no more than a game, this is one of the most agreeable ways in which it can be played.

Sixty Years of Art Cinema 1960-2020 : Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - Latin America - 6 (48) Brazil - Part 1 Phases of Cinema Novo: dos Santos and Glauber Rocha





Brazil: Nelson Pereira dos Santos b.28, Ruy Guerra b.31, Joaquim Pedro de Andrade b.32, Glauber Rocha b.38, Carlos Diegues b.40

Dos Santos and Glauber Rocha’s redefining of Brazilian and Latin American cinema

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Cinema Novo's origins were in the early 50s. “a result of debates between young Brazilian critics and writers opposed to the 'empty cosmopolitanism' of Hollywood and the 'false populism' of  national studios such as Atlantida and Vera Cruz. “Italian neo-realism […] pointed the way towards a critical realist method based in few technical resources” (Coad 157).  “As part of a broad, heterogeneous movement of cultural transformation that involved theatre, popular music, and literature, cinema evolved through a number of phases.” (Johnson 2).

Cinema Novo challenged both the ideology and aesthetics of Hollywood and its distribution chains and the Brazilian commercial cinema. Like Soviet filmmakers in the 20s, Cinema Novo “sought to decolonise film language and liberate its people from oppressive political and economic structures.”  In their auteurist political and aesthetic production strategies the Novo filmmakers more radically took inspiration from the French New Wave. (Stam 309).

The first phase from 1960-64 ended with a military coup d'etat. Successive populist governments, following a period of political stability and “national-developmentalism,” in the 50s had created a feeling that the country was on the verge of a radical transformation. Filmmakers initially deployed limited resources in highly individualised searches for an aesthetic appropriate to portraying the real Brazil of poverty, violence and great inequality, similar to the way neo-realism had exposed economic oppression in underdeveloped southern Italy. Films in this 'open' phase of Cinema Novo include Vidas Secas, Roy Guerra's Oz Fuzis/The Guns, Rocha's first feature Barravento (1962) and his Black God, White Devil.

The second Phase of Cinema Novo extended from 1964 to 1968, the year of the Fifth Institutional Act which ended with a coup-within-a-coup inaugurating a period of repressive military rule. Prior to this there was still space for discussion and debate on the failure of the intellectual left in the events of 1964. Paradoxically in the years immediately following the military coup, sectors of the left - including Cinema Novo - strengthened their position. Optimism of the first phase gave way to analyses of failure. In attempting to reach a wider public a distribution co-operative was established and started making films with more popular appeal. The focus of Cinema Novo shifted from rural to urban Brazil, from the lumpen proletariat to the middle class. The commitment to realism in the first phase (with the exception of Glauber Rocha) tended toward self-referentiality and anti-illusionism in the second. Films included Rocha's Terra em Transe (1967) and dos Santos's Hunger for Love (1968). During this phase filmmakers also began to recognise that they were not reaching a wide public and films began to be more commercially oriented.

The third phase ranged from 1968-72, a further period of very harsh military rule with habeus corpus suspended, censorship tightened and torture institutionalised. Concurrent with the third phase there emerged a radically different tendency – udigrudi  (underground). Novo filmmakers, unable to express views directly, resorted to allegory and a coded language of revolt in their films, the so-called cannibal-tropicalism, a 60s amalgam of popular Brazilian genres and the avant-garde, as in de Andrade's Macunaima (69) and dos Santos's The Alienist and How Tasty was My Little Frenchman (both 1970). The latter has been described as “a kind of anthropological fiction” suggesting that the (Brazilian) Indians should metaphorically cannibalise their foreign enemies, appropriating their force instead of being dominated by them. Antonio das Mortes was released as the military coup took a more savage turn in 1969, effectively marking the end of Cinema Novo as a movement in support of revolutionary change.

Just when Cinema Novo decided to reach out for a popular audience in the third phase, the underground opted “to slap the audience in the face.” As Cinema Novo moved towards technical polish and production values, the ‘Novo Cinema Novo’ (as the underground was also called) demanded a radicalization of the aesthetics of hunger, rejecting the dominant codes of well-made cinema in favour of a “dirty screen” and “garbage aesthetics.” In doing so they were not only influenced by international currents of the avant-garde but were reviving a long combative tradition in the Brazilian cinema. The movement [which continued in the following decades] nurtured an Oedipal love-hate relationship with Cinema Novo, at times paying homage to its early purity, while lambasting what it saw as its subsequent populist co-optation.” (Stam & Johnson)Although the films were intentionally marginal they were also marginalised - harassed by the censors and boycotted by exhibitors.

Nelson Pereira dos Santos

Nelson Pereira dos Santos
 (1928-2018) directed two films in the mid-fifties considered precursors to Cinema Novo. In 1963 he had, with others, been advocating the need for an independent national cinema that fully revealed poverty and oppression in Brazil's north-east. Vidas Secas/Barren Lives (1963), a stark adaptation of a novel by Graceiliano Ramos, is considered a high point of first phase of Cinema Novo; Rocha called Pereira dos Santos its “conscience.” Dos Santos's own trajectory as a filmmaker consisted of his initial 'sociological' phase (1955-67), his six features, with the exception of Vidas Secas, following fairly traditional classical narrative form while maintaining  a sociological critique of Brazilian society.

In his second 'ideological' phase of four features (1968-73) dos Santos deals not so much with events, social situations and structures as with the way in which events and society are interpreted. Fome de Amor/Hunger for Love (1968), for example, calls into question traditional leftist politics in the face of a repressive military regime while Azyllo Muito Luco/The Alienist(1970) questions  the repressive nature of all ideologies. The films in this phase are consistently allegorical in content and discontinuous in form, breaking away from the realist discourse of his first phase. Santos's third “popular” phase followed the publication of his “Manifesto for a Popular Cinema (1974).”

Glauber Rocha

Glauber Rocha
 (1938-81) is a key figure as a filmmaker-poet and polemicist in redefining Brazilian and Latin American cinema. Edgardo Cozarinsky suggests that the confusing and contradictory reality of a continent whose historical and cultural development, for European and American intellectuals, did not follow an accessibly understandable pattern of ready-made equations. Right-wing, tradition and mysticism, against left-wing, progress and rationalism “were dismissed in a shock of colourful violence in a body of work which thrilled the European intelligentsia by questioning their most enlightened assumptions.” (Dictionary of Cinema vol.2  ed. R.Roud 878)

Rocha in his mid-twenties, in a book, “Critical Condition of Brazilian Cinema,” published in 1965 after the release of his first film, Barravento (1961), embraced the notion of the auteur propounded in 'Cahiers du Cinema'. Rocha's emphasis on the importance of self-expression in his critique of the national cinema was attacked by activist Brazilian documentary filmmaker Fernando Birri, and later by Argentinians Solanas and Getino in their manifesto for a Third Cinema. But as Nowell-Smith suggests in Rocha's defence, “a cinema of individual expression, such as one finds in Barravento and Rocha's subsequent films, is the only possible counterweight to a commercial cinema in thrall to folkloric clichés about 'the people' and which treated the audience as irredeemably petty bourgeois in mentality.(179).

Barravento

Randal Johnson finds that all Rocha's films are replete with religious imagery and the basic structure of life arising from death. A new world from the old is also their basis, if albeit often deprived of immediate religious significance. “Rocha has taken the form of the myth and used it in endless variations... until finally in his last film 
A Idade da Terra/The Age of the Earth  (1981) the form assumes its original content […] The structuring element is not only Protestant; it is, rather, syncretic, like Brazil itself, and mixes a baroque, Catholic mise-en-scène with Afro-Brazilian rituals and saints”(118-9). Johnson takes up René Gardies perception that Rocha's films “taken as a single text, are informed by the repetition of a single, Catholic myth: Saint George slaying the dragon.” Johnson suggests, however, that this only shows one side of the coin pointing out that “the difficulty of many of Rocha's films is that images, people, and things are rarely what they appear to be, or, better said, rarely only what they appear to be.” Johnson notes that William van Wert in studying Rocha's typage finds his types [such as the bandits or cangaceiros] “are in continual metamorphosis, always at contradiction with their landscape, always at contradiction within themselves.” (120)

Glauber Rocha was in the forefront of the concern to create a “decolonized” cinematic language, a new cinematic language based on Brazilian social reality […] In his films, underlying religious form is often expressed in terms of revolutionary politics: a new political order arising from the destruction of the old from the ruins of mysticism, alienation, and archaic ideologies. His films are a protest (“protest-ant”) against mystification, capitalism and imperialism at the same time as they are a prophecy of revolution. The prophetic and the messianic are profoundly rooted in Rocha's Protestant ethos and are present throughout his work.” (ibid)

Rocha was born in the poverty of the drought stricken rural northeast/Nordeste.  The arid Sertão are where two of his three major Novo features were filmed. In 1965 Rocha published his manifesto, “The Aesthetics of Hunger” in which  he argued “that the politics of the underdeveloped world was, of necessity, the politics of hunger and that, again of necessity, there had to be an aesthetic of hunger to match it.” (Nowell-Smith ed. 179).

Black God, White Devil

In 
Dues e o diabo na terre do sol/Black God White Devil (1964), set in Rocha's Bahia homelands, the conflict is not between peasants and landowners or a struggle not between good and evil but between opposing sides that cancel each other out. Moral values are interchangeable  - the Black God (a charismatic black prophet' Sebastião, messianic leader of a strange millenial cult) commits crimes and the White Devil (the blonde bandit or cangacieros, Corisco) sometimes acts as a liberating force to create a new awareness. Antonio das mortes- the killer and hired gun paid by the Catholic church and state - is “a real catalyst of history” as Ciment puts it. (Cameron ed.111)  The displaced peasant couple is ambiguously placed in relation to the other central players. A fundamental ambiguity in Rocha's filmic system is carried over and the oppositions that are shifting and unstable develop between different groups and characters.

Antonio das Mortes

The quasi-abstract and enigmatic figure of Antonio the bandit-killer for hire is the mythic centre in themes and location of a companion 'novo western', 
Antonio das Mortes (1969) set in 1940. Although Antonio is apparently based loosely on an historical figure, he is clearly symbolic. The characters resembling “ideas on the move” are placed stylistically on the screen by a mix of montage and sequence shots. In contrast to the “frenetic camerawork and shorthand montage” of Black God White Devil, Rocha abandons realism in Antonio das Mortes for an theatrical  spectacle to engage the viewer, delivering a twist at the end. The ritual of dancing, sacrifice and procession, which Ciment suggests is reminiscent of Artaud's theories on the theatre of cruelty, is in all three films, including  Terra em Transe (116 ibid).

The cangaceiros having been killed as negative forces in the Black God are resurrected in Antonio as positive forces. Rocha explained this reversal as recognition of the strength of mysticism (hence the reincarnations) as a popular force in the Northeast. In sociological terms he acknowledged it is recognised as a very negative phenomenon whereas from a subjective and unconscious point of view it is very positive “because it signifies a permanent rebellion of the people against the oppression of that region.” (ibid 143).  

Antonio das Mortes

As in Rocha's previous films, the characters of 
Antonio das Mortes are not psychological beings but symbols in a mystical, operatic structure - the local feudalistic landowner who is blind and rapacious, Mattos his manager intelligent and sensitive but weak (representing the bourgeoisie), and the drunken teacher “the Professor” (the intelligentsia) - “are formed by ambiguous, shifting signifiers and signifieds, as the role of St George passes from personage to personage. (145)  Coriana in Antonio das Mortes has much in common with the Black God Corsico, spiritual symbol of the oppressed in the earlier film but lacking a history as a leader that Coriana is given as a reincarnation of the last cangaciero Lampiao, supposedly killed by Antonio in 1938. As a force of history with a record of killing more than 100 cangaceiros in the northeastern back country coming out of retirement, Antonio kills Coriana in a ritualistic duel. The presence of Coriana's followers “the holy one” (a girl in white) and a black dressed in red, seem to be the catalyst for Antonio doubting his historical role in a revolutionary transformation. He asks for food to be distributed to the poor and he and “the Professor” take on the gang of hired killers, brought in to finish Antonio's work, in a climactic Peckinpah-esque gun battle, and Antão, the black in red, kills the landowner with a lance.”

For Rocha “the true revolutionaries in South America are individuals, suffering personalities, who are not involved in theoretical problems. Latin American peasants have not read Marx […] the upheaval can only come from individual people who have suffered themselves and who have realized that a need for change is present – not for theoretical reasons but because of personal agony.”

In explaining his intention in his two 'Novo Westerns', Rocha referred to the mysticism that marks all of Latin America.  Above all, in Brazil, it is based on “an emotional Dionysiac behaviour” which comes from what he describes as “a very strange mixture of Catholic Christianity and African religions involving an energy that is “more emotional than critical...the alienation of the people from everyday reality.” But this energy found in the people “draws its sources from this mysticism, which results from this fusion of all religions in Latin America.” It is hardly surprising that Rocha fell out with Godard during the making of Wind from the East.

Land in a Trance

Between 
Black God,White Devil and Antonio das Mortes, Rocha made Terra em Transe/Land in a Trance/Land in Anguish (1965), his most personal work - he also claimed it his most important. It embodies “a convulsive, apocalyptic vision of Latin American politics, a cinematic poem-meditation on the death of populist politics which, according to Rocha, has nothing to offer.” The “land in a trance” is immersed in a carnival of eternal crises and political madness. Resurrection, in Rocha's view, “remains only implicit, however, in the dialectical notion that the only positive thing in Latin America is that which is normally considered to be negative and from which a new society can arise.” (Johnson 135).

Pervaded by the influence of Eisenstein, “Rocha wanted a cinematographic confrontation that would put an end to myth where the degeneration of a civilization could be explained and where 'the state of trance could be presented as a ‘state of transition'...The film at the same time is cradled in the blackest romanticism and lightened by the critical gaze the director levels at his character.” (Ciment 115)

Land in a Trance

The poet Paulo Martin's agonised recollections of the political and personal events that have led to his failure and impending death constitute the film's complexity shaped by the free movement between the subjective and the objective, forming what has been called “a sulphurous poem.” The events take place in the imaginary country of Eldorado where the populist provincial governor, Veira, is reluctant to resist a coup led by the right-wing leader, Diaz. Martin who has been trying to persuade Veira to resist, is mortally wounded when he breaks through a police barricade.

In writing about music in his films Graham Bruce leads with a quote from Rocha: “Brazil is a musical country and I think of cinema as musical montage with pauses and musical spaces.”  It plays a distinctive Brechtian role in his films “as a vital element, not simply something reproducing and reinforcing the image but as a means of both structuring sequences and commenting on individual images.

Sixty Years of Art Cinema 1960-2020 : Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - Asia - 6 (47) China (To be published shortly)

Friday, 26 September 2025

Streaming on HBO Max - Rod Bishop recommends THE PITT (R. Scott Gemmill, creator, USA, 2025)

A family relative of mine spent much of his twenties working as an emergency nurse in inner Sydney hospitals. Stoic and unerringly polite, his decision to leave and move into medical equipment supplies took us by surprise. Until his wife simply said: “PTSD”.

If the idea of spending more than 12 hours or 750 minutes of screentime in an emergency department seems like a debilitating watch, then The Pitt is probably not for you.

Noah Wyle, The Pitt

Unquestionably deserving of its Emmys for Outstanding Best Drama; Best Actor in a Drama (Noah Wyle); and Best Supporting Actress in a Drama (Katherine LaNasa), The Pitt is designed to be emotionally harrowing, and to make you feel as exhausted as the doctors and nurses while confronting the funding failures in the American health system. 

Other social issues such as the fentanyl epidemic, the COVID pandemic, lunatics with guns, across-state-line abortions and sickle cell disease, lie alongside simple accidents with gas bottles, difficult child births, and car crash victims. 

There’s even a domestic violence victim who presents with a fork stuck up her nose, prompting one doctor to deadpan: “I’ll just go and find a utensil specialist”.

Noah Wyle gives a towering performance as the head doctor Robby (Michael Robinavitch). His preparation for the role included eleven series as Dr Carter in E.R. (1994-2009)the obvious television antecedent to The Pitt.

Katharine LaNasa, The Pitt


Like E.R., there’s a tendency to rely on soap to keep the characters interesting, but The Pitt spends a lot more time on medical procedures, showing off the astounding plethora of medical knowledge needed by those on the emergency floor. 

Particularly when there aren’t enough available beds in the rest of the hospital (due to budget cuts in nursing staff), or when a mass casualty event fills up every available square foot of the emergency department. 

The protocols in such moments necessitate a rationing of blood per patient, and to stop the patients from dying in front of them, inexperienced, but competent interns are allowed to perform impromptu operations.

At the very least…it’s enlightening.

Saturday, 20 September 2025

Out now in good bookshops -BIOGRAPHY OF A REVOLUTION - The Feminist Roots of Human Rights in Egypt by Lucia Sorbera


Editor's Note: Associate Professor Lucia Sorbera is Chair of Arabic Language and Cultures, University of Sydney. She is one of Cinema Reborn's strong supporters. She wrote the excellent program notes for the Cinema Reborn screenings in 2024 of Tewfik Saleh's The Dupes (Syria, 1972), which she also introduced. She also wrote the notes for the Cinema Reborn 2025 screenings of Heiny Srour's Leila and The Wolves (UK/Lebanon/France, 1984).  Lucia has now published, Biography of a Revolution. The Feminist Roots of Human Rights in Egypt, University of California Press, 2025. Below is some information about the book. Copies are on sale at Better Read Than Dead Bookshop in Newtown or online (more expensive) at Booktopia.

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It is not Egypt's 2011 revolution that opened a space for women's and feminist activism, but—as this book shows—the long history of women's activism that created the intellectual and political background for revolution. By centering the experiences and ideas of multiple generations of women activists and intellectuals, Lucia Sorbera traces the feminist genealogies of Egypt's nationalist, student, Marxist, labor, human rights, and democratic social movements. Biography of a Revolution gathers a series of interrelated intimate and relational stories, charting in vivid detail the entanglements between women's aspirations across a century of politics and friendships. This historical analysis innovatively deploys decolonial and indigenous feminist epistemologies, bringing women's, gender, and feminist history into the center of Egypt's political, social, and intellectual history. More than a decade after the 2013 military coup, women's intellectual and political activism remains crucial to keeping the embers of revolution aglow.

 

Reviews:

"One of the best books I have read in years, Biography of a Revolution is engagingly written, carefully documented, and well argued. It is rich with conversation and compelling stories that center feminist actors and reframe the history of the Egyptian Revolution of 2011."—Beth Baron, author of Egypt as a Woman: Nationalism, Gender, and Politics


"A compelling and nuanced book, especially in Lucia Sorbera's questioning—rather than assumption—of what constitutes the boundaries of the Arab Spring and in her discussion of how various military governments have tried to appropriate women's political agendas."—Sherine Hamdy, co-author of Lissa: A Story about Medical Promise, Friendship, and Revolution


"Feminism and revolution are historically linked in Egypt. Against the background of existing scholarship, Biography of a Revolution examines the 2011 Revolution through moving, fine-grained personal accounts of feminist revolutionaries, thereby taking the story of feminism and revolution forward and sparking speculation on future trajectories."—Margot Badran, author of Feminists, Islam, and Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt


"On the basis of oral stories, complemented by rich and varied documentation composed of both archival and personal documents as well as eloquent images, this extraordinary book narrates the intimate lives of eighty Egyptian women. Constructing a collective biography of 'feminist lives,' it shows the long history of feminism in Egypt that led to the revolutionary decade from 2011 on."—Luisa Passerini, author of Autobiography of a Generation: Italy, 1968


"This is an important contribution to the understanding of the revolutionary wave that swept Egypt in 2011. By centering the political biographies of feminist activists, Sorbera argues that the long history of feminist activism in Egypt in the twentieth century has been a key inspirational force behind the 2011 Revolution as well as the human rights movement."—Hoda Elsadda, author of Gender, Nation, and the Arabic Novel: Egypt, 1892–2008