We sat down with Guellaty in El Gouna for a conversation about the emotional truth behind migration, the beauty and weight of youth, and what this recognition means for Tunisian cinema today.
AM: First of all, congratulations on winning Best Arab Narrative Film at El Gouna. What does this recognition mean to you?
Amel Guellaty: Thank you, it means a great deal. It was the MENA region premiere, so it’s always incredible to be recognized by your peers, in your own region. It’s the best feeling.
AM: Your film follows two young Tunisians longing for elsewhere. What was the first spark of this story, was it born from a social observation or a personal memory?
Amel Guellaty: A little bit of both. The friendship comes from personal memories: their relationship, their feelings, some of their dialogues and humor are definitely inspired by my own life. But the rest of the film comes from a strong need to talk about the reality young people face in Tunisia, and honestly, everywhere else. Before writing this film, I made a short documentary in Tunisia about “Dar Chebeb,” which are public youth centers. I had the chance to meet many young people from different regions, and it was both inspiring and heartbreaking. Inspiring because of their energy, resilience, and creativity; heartbreaking because most of them wanted to leave the country. I wanted to write and create a film in which they could recognize themselves, their energy as much as their struggles.
AM: What did you want to say about friendship when it is tested by dreams, pressure, and the idea of leaving home?
Amel Guellaty: Friendship at that age is such a big part of life. It takes so much of your time, energy, and thoughts. You spend most of your days with your friends. But then life catches up, and you have to start thinking about your own future and dreams. Many friendships end there, even though they were the most intense ones, while others survive and stay with you forever. It’s definitely an age when friendships are tested, and if they last, they become one of the pillars of your life, something that shapes who you are and stays with you no matter where you go.
AM: Migration is a recurring question across North Africa, particularly for the youth. How did you approach it without falling into clichés or purely political discourse?
Amel Guellaty: Migration is a reality in everyday life in Tunisia; it concerns everyone, whether poor, middle class, or rich. It’s a conversation you hear all the time, in every family, every café. I didn’t want to politicize it; on the contrary, I wanted to show the causes behind it: the frustration, the sense of being stuck, the lack of opportunity, and to explain why, for many young people, leaving feels like the only possible solution. I don’t think it’s necessarily the right one, but it’s an honest reflection of how many people feel. What interested me was the emotional side of migration, the longing, the guilt, the hope, more than the political one.
AM: The film portrays a delicate balance between hope and disillusionment. As a Tunisian storyteller, what was most important for you to show about today’s generation?
Amel Guellaty: I wanted to move away from the usual narrative of despair and instead show a generation that dreams, creates, and resists in its own way, even when things feel impossible. There’s this old belief that every older generation sees the younger one as lazy, lost, or unwilling to work. In the Arab world, that stereotype is especially strong. It’s often the privileged who think that way. I wanted to challenge that idea and show a generation that isn’t just a victim of the system, but one that’s full of imagination, humor, and life, a beautiful youth. At the same time, I didn’t want to romanticize things. There’s also a very real sense of despair among young people who feel they’ve lost hope. One of the biggest challenges in writing the film was finding that balance between drama and comedy, between hope and disillusionment.
AM: Visually, the film has a striking sense of stillness and movement at once. Can you talk about your visual language, the palette, the geography, and the mood you wanted to capture?
Amel Guellaty: I’m glad you noticed that balance of stillness and movement, because for me it was absolutely central. I wanted the image to carry as much meaning as the dialogue. I worked closely with cinematographer Frida Marzouk and set designer Khalil Khoudja, and we arrived on set with a detailed storyboard for every shot. We used strong, symbolic colors, and the road-trip structure allowed us to move through very different Tunisian landscapes: from the suburbs of Tunis to the island of Djerba. I wanted Tunisia itself to feel like a character, with all its contrasts, beauty, and complexity. I also wanted to avoid the purely realistic handheld aesthetic often seen in road movies. Instead, we aimed for a controlled and refined visual style that still feels intimate, so the audience can sense both the vitality of youth and the weight of their surroundings.
AM: Casting plays a huge role in creating intimacy. How did you choose your actors, and what did you seek in their chemistry?
Amel Guellaty: Eya Bellagha and Slim Baccar did an amazing job creating a believable friendship on screen. I cast them separately at first, then together and with different actors, but it quickly became obvious that they had something special. What struck me most was their energy and truthfulness. When I brought them together, something clicked immediately. They didn’t need to act; they just connected, and that was exactly what I was looking for. We rehearsed a lot and spent time together until they genuinely became friends. Once they felt comfortable, they started to improvise and add those small gestures, silences, and glances that feel natural. I wanted the audience to believe that these two characters had known each other forever, that their bond came from life, not performance.
AM: Sundance is often a launchpad for powerful new voices. How did the international response differ from the regional one?
Amel Guellaty: It’s too early to say, but it felt like the young audience in the theater in El Gouna was really touched by the characters and the story. Many of them seemed to recognize themselves in it. I even saw a few people crying, which moved me deeply. The Sundance screening was amazing, but this one felt more emotional, maybe because the story is so close to the reality of young people in the region.
AM: Tunisia is living a significant cultural moment in cinema. What do you think distinguishes the Tunisian cinematic voice today on the Arab and international stage?
Amel Guellaty: There’s a new generation of filmmakers, women and men, who are not afraid to tell personal stories and to question themselves and their society. After 2011, something opened: there was a real desire to speak, to film, to express. What’s exciting is the diversity of voices, some films are very political, others are intimate or poetic, but they all share a sense of honesty. We’re not trying to please or to fit into a box; we’re trying to be truthful.
AM: As a female Arab director, what challenges still feel present, and what has changed for the better?
Amel Guellaty: Honestly, I never really know how to answer this question. I think that as a director from the Global South, the biggest challenge will always be financing and all the difficulties that come with it: finding support, convincing partners, and simply getting a film made. As a Tunisian director, I personally didn’t face particular challenges because of my gender; I struggled and succeeded like any other filmmaker. I believe every director has their own story and their own obstacles. It’s less about being a woman or a man, and more about where you come from and the kind of stories you want to tell. Making a film as an Iraqi or Moroccan director is definitely a very different experience than doing so in Tunisia or Palestine, each context comes with its own set of realities.