Red Sea Film Festival Foundation

Haroun is an old bachelor who has lived in Oran for several years. A retired civil servant, he leads a reclusive life until the day he meets Kamel in a bar—a journalist to whom he tells an incredible story dating back to 1942. He claims to be the brother of ‘the Arab’ killed in a story told in one of the most famous novels of the 20th century, ‘The Stranger’ by Albert Camus. An Arab with an erased name: Moussa. Through anger, assertions, details, and confidences, Haroun finally convinces the journalist to listen to his story. His confession is a cry of freedom and distress—but above all, a cry of revolt: against an abusive mother, against a country that failed to achieve true independence, against a book, and against a famous French writer.

Convinced she’s cursed to die before turning thirty, Haya lives life at maximum volume: reckless, funny, chaotic, and completely unfiltered. After one of her many over-the-top stunts lands her in the emergency room, she collides with Youssef, a brilliant but emotionally shut-down heart surgeon who lives by rules, routines, and zero surprises. Certain the universe has thrown them together for a reason, Haya barrels into his perfectly controlled world like a glitter bomb, dragging him through neon nights, strange rituals, awkward encounters, unexpected tenderness, and a growing emotional glitch neither of them planned for. As her personal countdown looms and his frozen life starts to thaw, their unlikely connection turns into a wild, funny, and oddly uplifting ride through fear, fate, and the messy joy of being alive played at full speed.

After the fall of Assad’s regime, five survivors return to the former torture prison of Saidnaya to reenact what they experienced there during their incarceration. They reclaim their voices and bear witness for those who can no longer speak for themselves.

In the slums of Jordan, power circulates through fear, favors, and violence. Boomah, a volatile street enforcer, survives on petty extortion and intimidation because for those at the bottom, crime is the only work that pays. Children move through the same streets she controls, selling goods, running messages, learning the rules of danger before adulthood; Boomah frightens them, exploits them, and sometimes protects them, caught between the instincts of a predator and the shadow of her own abandoned childhood. Surrounded by women struggling to shield their families, she carries a fractured relationship to motherhood, shaped by loss and survival rather than care. When a new, more organized criminal force begins to restructure the underground economy, independent lives like hers grow increasingly disposable, and Boomah is pushed to confront what it means to survive in a world where violence is labor, children inherit the streets, and motherhood is both a wound and a responsibility.