Winner of Best Director and Best Actress at Shanghai International Film Festival for his feature film Halima, Moroccan director Yassine El Idrissi focuses on social and political burdens that ordinary people are faced with while trying to survive.
Moroccan director Yassine El Idrissi’s latest feature film Halima premiered at the 28th Shanghai International Film Festival where it won two accolades – Best Director for Idrisdi and Best Actress for his lead actress Khadija Amari.
We speak to Idrissi about the filmmaking industry in Morocco and he shares eloquently about the politics and social realities of the film industry and the country in general. But his passions are connected to real people and their everyday stories. That is the reason why he chose to write about Halima – a leading lady who isn’t oppressed by patriarchy or Islam. Her struggles stem from poverty and marginalization within the political system. Still, he harbours hope for the future and the authentic Moroccan voices that will add to the film industry as a whole.
I made Halima independently, with a very small budget, because I refused to wait any longer.
Ramona: In the past decade, Morocco has been supporting the national and international filmmaking industry through tax incentives, the Atlas Workshops, and other initiatives. Can you tell me about your journey as a Moroccan film director and how you see the industry changing today?
Yassine El Idrissi: On paper, Morocco has one of the most developed film support systems in Africa and the Arab world. We have attractive incentives for international productions, respected initiatives like the Atlas Workshops, and a public funding system through the Moroccan Cinematic Centre (CCM). But the reality is more complicated. The problems are hidden in the details.
Let’s look at the results. Every year, the CCM funds around 26 feature films. Yet only one or two of them are selected by major festivals such as Cannes, Venice, or other top international festivals. Most of the funded films struggle to travel internationally or reach audiences at home. If only around ten percent of the films achieve significant artistic or international success, we should ask whether the current system is truly working.
At the same time, many talented filmmakers are repeatedly excluded from funding.
My own journey is one example. I earned a Master’s degree in Film from the Netherlands Film Academy, and my films have been selected by more than 300 festivals worldwide, including Rotterdam, Cairo, Gothenburg, Clermont-Ferrand, and, most recently, Shanghai. Along the way, I have received several international awards.
Yet, after returning to Morocco twelve years ago, I received support from the CCM only twice, both for short films. I applied six times for feature film funding and was rejected every time, even though the script for Halima had already been selected by several international script labs and had won development awards abroad.
When you compare the international recognition of some unfunded projects with the performance of many funded ones, it raises important questions about how decisions are made. Too often, the same production companies and directors receive funding repeatedly, regardless of the artistic or commercial results of their previous films. At the same time, many emerging voices struggle to get a single opportunity. This creates the perception that the system rewards established networks more than new talent.
I am only one example. I know many gifted filmmakers and screenwriters who eventually gave up because they spent years developing projects that never received support. When a script is never financed, it never becomes a film, and an entire generation of stories risks disappearing before they can be told.
The challenge is even bigger because Moroccan public funding often serves as the first seal of approval. Without it, it becomes much harder to attract international co-production or development funding. Many international funds wait for a project to secure support in its home country before committing themselves. As a result, one rejection at home can close many doors abroad.
Despite all of this, I remain optimistic. I made Halima independently, with a very small budget, because I refused to wait any longer. The film’s international journey has shown me that it is possible to make meaningful cinema outside the traditional system. I hope my experience encourages other young filmmakers not to give up and also encourages institutions to build a funding system that rewards artistic merit, originality, and diversity of voices.
This version is critical but measured. It makes your points through evidence and personal experience rather than broad accusations, which tends to be more persuasive in an international interview. If the publication is known for more outspoken political interviews, it can also be made sharper.
I want [other filmmakers] to see that it is possible to make meaningful films with limited resources by turning those limitations into creative choices.
R: How would you describe yourself as a director? What topics and styles attract you?
Y: I would describe myself as a fighter. I don’t believe in impossible goals or creative limitations. I’m a dreamer, and sometimes my way of working seems illogical because I refuse to wait for the “perfect” conditions to make a film.
I also enjoy learning every aspect of filmmaking. From writing and directing to cinematography, editing, and production, I believe that understanding different crafts makes me a better filmmaker. It also allows me to take on multiple roles when the budget is limited, giving me the freedom to keep making films regardless of financial constraints.
The stories that attract me are rooted in social reality and focus on people whose lives are rarely seen on screen. Stylistically, I like cinema that feels honest and natural, where the visual approach grows organically from the story rather than imposing itself on it.
I hope my own filmmaking journey can inspire other filmmakers. I want them to see that it is possible to make meaningful films with limited resources by turning those limitations into creative choices. Instead of waiting for permission from gatekeepers, I believe filmmakers can remain independent, find their own voice, and still reach audiences around the world.
R: The opening of Halima is a sensual experience of colour and calm. The couple are leading a seemingly peaceful life, enjoying small beautiful things about their day. Did you have an inspiration for them? Do many people in Morocco live like this?
Y: My inspirations are rarely direct or literal. I believe filmmaking is fundamentally about making choices, and those choices come to me naturally. I am deeply influenced by my own life experiences and the various forms of art I consume, but I rarely recall a specific, exact moment of inspiration. Instead, I let the deep feelings ingrained within me guide my creative decisions.
As for how people live, many Moroccans certainly live a modest, peaceful life, doing their best to enjoy the simple things they have. However, there is a stark duality. Morocco is a country rich in natural resources and strategically positioned between Africa and Europe, with enormous potential to be a leading economy in the region. Yet, millions of Moroccans continue to struggle because this wealth doesn’t translate into quality public services. Many feel that political and economic power is concentrated within a small elite focused primarily on protecting their own interests.
You only have to look at our international rankings in education and healthcare to see the reality. The government often relies on international debt to solve immediate problems, passing the burden onto future generations. My role as a filmmaker is to give a face and a voice to those everyday people who are left to suffer the consequences of these political choices.
R: A sinister phone call makes this humble paradise go away. Halima’s past catches up with her and we see in flashback what her life was like before. What inspired you to make Halima a crime drama instead of just a story about a sweet old lady?
Y: People with a criminal past often hide that part of their lives, and many become very good at it. I wanted the audience to see Halima as an ordinary person struggling to survive, without knowing anything about her past. Only later do they discover who she really is.
This reflects my own experience meeting people involved in cannabis trafficking. At first, they seemed completely ordinary. It was only after they began to trust me that they shared their real stories—stories that were often surprising and far more complex than I had imagined.
R: In present day Halima’s home and life are filled with beautiful pastel colours and in the past her home and surroundings were quite barren. What was your goal with the set design?
Y: For me, the story always dictates the film’s visual style. The production design and colour palette reflect Halima’s emotional state and social reality at each stage of her life.
In the present day, although Halima still lives in poverty, her home is filled with soft, warm colours. They suggest that she has found a certain peace and sense of belonging.
Her house in the past is very different. It is larger, isolated, and much colder. The empty spaces emphasize her loneliness and the secrets she is hiding. Even though many people visit her, she remains emotionally isolated. I wanted the contrast between these two homes to reflect her inner journey as much as her external circumstances.
R: Why was it important to you to tell Halima’s story in particular?
Y: Morocco has countless stories to tell, yet I often feel that many Moroccan films presented internationally focus on the same narratives. They frequently portray women mainly through their struggle against patriarchy or religion, while paying less attention to the role of the state and the social and economic systems that leave vulnerable people without support.
These stories are often well received by Western festivals because they fit familiar expectations about Arab and Muslim societies. Since major festivals and funding bodies have a strong influence on which films are seen internationally, many filmmakers naturally adapt to those expectations.
As someone who self-funded Halima and premiered it at the Shanghai International Film Festival, I wanted to tell a different kind of story—one that reflects the reality I know. I wanted to portray an Arab and Muslim woman whose greatest struggle is not simply with men or religion, but with poverty, marginalization, and a system that affects both women and men.
Halima’s story also allowed me to explore a subject that is rarely seen in Moroccan cinema. Morocco is one of the world’s largest producers of cannabis, and although the country legalized cannabis for medical and industrial purposes a few years ago, the lives of the people who have worked in this industry for generations remain largely absent from our films. I wanted to bring these overlooked lives to the screen and start a conversation about a community that is usually ignored.
For me, that is one of the most important roles of cinema: to give visibility to people and stories that are rarely heard, and to encourage discussion about subjects that remain hidden.
I hope to see Moroccan cinema become […] a source of pride and one of the country’s strongest forms of soft power.
R: You have some very interesting documentary films in your filmography such as The Other Documentary, Welcome to the Zoo… What are some valuable things you learned from dealing with these topics?
Y: Making documentaries taught me patience. You often spend years working on a single film, and during that time you have to stay open to change. Reality is unpredictable, so you learn to adapt your story and embrace the unexpected moments and details you discover on location.
At the same time, you must never lose sight of the heart of the story or the message you want to share. I think this balance—being flexible while staying true to your vision—is the most valuable lesson documentaries have taught me.
R: What are you hoping to see in Moroccan filmmaking in the future and where do you see your place in it?
Y: I hope to see Moroccan cinema become what Moroccan football has become: a source of pride and one of the country’s strongest forms of soft power. Morocco has incredible stories, talented filmmakers, rich culture, and stunning landscapes. We have everything we need to become a major cinematic nation.
I also hope to see more original voices emerge. Young filmmakers should feel free to experiment, take risks, and tell stories that come from their own reality instead of trying to imitate successful formulas. Great cinema is born from authenticity.
As for my place, I hope to inspire the next generation of filmmakers. I want to show that you don’t have to wait for the perfect conditions to make your first feature. You can write stories that fit your reality, use the locations and people around you, and turn limitations into creative strengths.
I want to share everything I have learned through my own journey—from writing scripts that can be produced on a limited budget to finding creative solutions during production. If my experience can give other young filmmakers the confidence to make their first film, then it will be one of my greatest achievements.
Morocco deserves a cinema that is as bold, authentic, and inspiring as its people, and I hope to contribute to building that future, one film at a time.
The 28th Shanghai International Film Festival (SIFF) took place from June 12 to 21, 2026.
