Ahmed Khater: Why Am I Against Artificial Intelligence Writing About Human Emotions?

The scriptwriter, Ahmed Khater, who has worked on films from Saudi Arabia to Egypt, appears to have just emerged from a narrative. He writes about gloomy things, about little things that don’t belong on TV show posters or news bulletins, rather than chasing the light.

The characteristics of a writer who doesn’t fit the mould of the mainstream have surfaced via Gulf projects, writing workshops, and training courses, from “Baba Nam Wal Net Tamam” to “The Postman,” and who isn’t hesitant to admit that “I belong to the margins… but I see it as the heart of the picture.”

In this interview, Ahmed Khater discusses not only his work but also his writing philosophy, the tension between the market and the message, the struggle between easy success and hard work, the joy of making theatre out of nothing, and the idea that art is created rather than waiting to happen.

Several of your pieces seem to deal with the unimaginable, topics that don’t seem to fit on official theatre billboards or the news: a train, a ferry accident, a girl defying tradition, etc. Why do you always write about the margins? Is it because you find yourself there, or is it because the edges of the image often convey the essence more than the centre?

The reason I love reality so much is that I feel the tension and difficulties of every story I write, whether it’s the death train in the movie “Dead Birth” or the ferry in “Peace 98.” As a writer, I find myself representing this slice of the tragedy of real people, their pain, and their immense suffering. On the contrary, I always find myself drawn to the margins, which doesn’t mean they’re any less important; rather, it means they’re more realistic.

For every character and tale I write, I try to imagine myself in their position. What if the rescue had taken place, or if neglect hadn’t occurred? How may things have turned out? The might of God, however, is supreme. I prefer to portray tragedy in a dramatic way that the audience can identify with. Since the margin is so far from the truth, I can see that it is not a margin. The realism of every story, on the other hand, makes it the lifeblood of every character I create.

You stated in one of your interviews that “I believe that every artistic medium has its language… Cinema is not theatre, and the novel is not the screen.” In light of this genre-blending overlap, how do you see the boundaries of these languages today, and do writers still require them in an era where they are no longer necessary?

As demonstrated by the famous artist Charlie Chaplin’s silent film presentations, it is possible to show a movie without any language. We still appreciate his films now since they are all silent, and we always grasp the humorous circumstances he shows and the message of his story.

For the audience who watches the performer on stage, theatre is the language of conversation. For me to appreciate his art and the words he conveys to us as viewers, he must provide suitable dialogue content, whether it be tragic, philosophical, or humorous. I experience linguistic, narrative, and literary pleasure when I read novels. The author leads me along several of his creative narrative trajectories.

What if we made this book into a dramatic or cinematic work, similar to the works of authors like Ihsan Abdel Quddous, Naguib Mahfouz, and other notable authors whose books were made into dramatic or cinematic works? That is what I’m wondering about.

The talent and creativity of a writer, in my opinion, are limitless; instead, he must have a strong desire to learn and become an expert in all forms of writing, whether it be theatre, film, drama, or even turning his literary narrative vision into a novel into an artistic creation that the public can view. Given the proliferation of digital media, why do we restrict the writer’s skills while we are still learning? Professional writers innovate via brilliance and inventiveness.

You tackled the idea of technology as a “social catastrophe” that shatters familial bonds in your play “Baba Nam Wal Net Tamam,” rather than as a tool.  How much can art, even if it is accurate, alter the behaviour of its audience?  As you are undoubtedly aware, numerous well-known professionals in the film industry have argued for art that either poses questions or preaches answers, allowing other entities and individuals to figure out the answers.

“Baba Nam Wal Net Tamam” was produced in Egypt and Saudi Arabia in 2014 and 2016. The play discusses the dangers of technology and its impact on children’s moral and academic development. The story revolves around a father, a chemist, seeking a safe place away from social media, technology, and the internet, highlighting the perils of technology.

However, it turned out that every continent has a lot of issues, so what would happen if I left my kids and went to sleep? He kept on in this manner until he concluded that the most crucial thing was to look after his kids and prevent them from being exposed to the negative effects of technology. He created a real example of responsible technology use for his kids.

Art conveys a message, and the author must highlight societal issues, caution society, and respect family members while keeping society’s evils, like bullying, under wraps, while maintaining a unique and respectful approach to family members.

Some storylines, particularly those that depend on mystery and suspense—whether it’s a crime, an investigation, or a theft—have an open conclusion if we’re producing a series that will run for several seasons.

However, the writer of a social drama series must put society’s needs first and ensure that the conclusion makes sense rather than catering to the director or the actor. The author is responsible for adding complexity and challenges to the material he gives, and the conclusion must make perfect sense.

Without a doubt, the author can change society’s perspective. The author has the power to change society for the better or worse. Here, writers must not only pursue material goals but also receive assistance from production businesses in presenting positive content to society.

“A script, in my opinion, is a hidden literature that only the person making the film reads,” you stated in an interview. Finding a balance between your unread reading and wanting to get your concept in front of people after it has gone through dozens of middlemen is a challenge. Isn’t this a betrayal of your original writing, in your opinion?

We need to understand that a screenplay is a visual language that is experienced through drama or film. A script is an artistic visual vision rather than a literary story. To express this vision in a way that is suitable for the audience—whether it be the director, producer, photographer, performers, etc.—integrated pieces are needed.

My story undergoes several stages before being sent to the production firm, including preparing the script, submitting a file with the dramatic treatment, and rewriting some dramatic lines after acceptance, with the director consulting on the changes. After that, filming started, followed by editing. Before the piece is displayed on TV or movie screens, there are numerous steps. I may state that this is my employment at this point, but nobody is aware of the steps I took to get here. If there isn’t a production firm, though, the script will stay in my office and never be seen.

I didn’t give up or become depressed over this issue. Instead, the author needs to keep going and come up with new storylines and scripts. Every task needs its time, and I am fully aware of this in my profession; therefore, I never hurry things. Regarding the betrayal of my original writing, I wouldn’t classify it as such.

The three most crucial members of any dramatic or film production are the director, scriptwriter, and producer. Undoubtedly, there is no betrayal if there is an understanding and conversations that support the work and the script. The writer may be insulted, though, if they were disregarded from the start and the producer and director changed or removed emotional passages without telling the author.

Regarding the establishment of Teatro Talent, you stated, “We are a generation that doesn’t have theatres, but we create them from scratch.” After all of this, how do you distinguish between an artistic creation made by a market driven by demand and one made by young people driven by passion? If you have a look at Tarantino’s work, you will better comprehend my question. He shares your belief that “a script is a hidden literature that only those making the film can read,” but he also understands how to appeal to the public.

Indeed, when I established the Teatro Talent theatre company in 2014, I selected young people with a lot of talent and awareness. I was able to present about 15 different plays with them, all of which were social comedies. The plays included “Baba Nam Wal Net Tamam,” “The Student’s Weapon,” “Taniyy Awal,” “Afreet Fareed Men Kahouma,” “Baba Al-Khalbous,” “Gedo Hakim,” and many more.

I presented it in an open theatre so that all families and young people could witness these talented individuals and hear our messages in a humorous manner within the community. We couldn’t find anyone to support these abilities, and we did have trouble locating a theatre. I am content with them and our advancements through 2019.

As a playwright and theatre director, I have always had a deep affection for the theatre, and I have never neglected it. After discussing our work with numerous media outlets, I was able to convince some officials of our unique approach and goal. With any luck, the Teatro Talent ensemble will soon make a comeback, this time with unique plays. I express my gratitude to you on behalf of my group, the Teatro Talent ensemble, for their outstanding and inventive performances over the years.

You write on obscure subjects, untold tales, and unread characters, but you pick stories whose popularity can occasionally be contentious. In a time when views and followers are used to gauge success, how do you balance making this tough decision with making your voice heard?

We live in a time where opinions and trends are assessed, but like Ahmed Khater, I never look for tales that raise a lot of controversies, especially if it’s an unethical issue or shallow, poor work that creates a trend due to a certain dance or song.

I always seek out stories that are serious in their difficulties and social reality, and these pieces seem to me to be merely sketches. I enjoy creating realistic characters in both my favourite suspense/mystery and social drama genres.

Before surprising them with particular narrative lines and an even more unexpected conclusion, I prefer to lead the audience on a voyage of reflection about what will happen in tomorrow’s episode and what the events will be. My stories and scenarios have unexpected endings, and writing them takes a lot of concentration and hard work.

Given that viewers are very intelligent, they will watch a different series if the first one is subpar and boring. I always present a unique situation, thank God, to make my work stand out and be written with the utmost skill.

We still remember our timeless Egyptian works, like the television series “Al Mal Wal Banoun,” “Layali Al Helmeya,” and “I Will Not Live in My Father’s Robe,” and we would continue to watch them if they were broadcast today because they are so creative and unique. This reminds us that the work that is closest to society is the one that is immortalised and endures for years. It is not a series that looks for social media pages or trends to promote itself.

You’ve given presentations in the Gulf on social anxiety, harassment, and drug use. Do you believe that Egypt can address these issues in the same manner, or do different societies handle the facts differently? Is the audience prepared for total transparency?

Naturally, the practices, traditions, and substance you present vary from society to society. From the manner you approach the subject to the topics you can’t write about in one nation over another, every piece I’ve done in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, and Bahrain is unique.

You can write on some topics and not others, in consideration of censorship and cultural norms and traditions. I therefore take great caution while writing anything, even in Egypt, where I’m from. My constant goal is to convey significant messages to the public. Even if I’ve discussed drugs, harassment, social phobia, or autism—all of which are distinct stories—I don’t want to leave a bad impression in any of my work.

In my narrative style, I always seek issues that are relevant to society. I am continuously challenging myself to learn about different cultures, to discover what they have to offer and what I can offer them. Can I give anything vital, unique, and positive? Thank God, I always succeed in my trials, especially those involving myself. I don’t listen to anyone who tells me not to do or change something. I am someone who enjoys navigating, thank God, the world of writing in all of its forms and countries.

Many people interpret your writings as a covert attack on authority, including societal, familial, and traditional authority in addition to political authority. How do you write your criticisms in a time of gentle censorship—by confrontation or by implication? Has your strategy evolved with the times?

Constructive critique is always appreciated by me. I listen intently and gain a lot from it. As I’ve stated before, the stories I write about are real and tangible. I identify with its characters and wish to convey a significant social message. I refrained from criticising the social establishment with my pen.

On the other hand, some of my works focus on extraordinary cases rather than the authority of society with its traditions and conventions. In every novel, the author always puts the protagonist or heroine first. What do they hope to accomplish? In the story, what is their objective? Will the hero end up on a different route, or will the events help him or her arrive? Whether it’s a light comedy, thriller, or social drama, this is what I write to make sure every tale has a reasonable conclusion.

What one sentence would you use to summarise your artistic vision from your work or life? Do you think “the ending is always written in the first line,” as you once said, or does art make all ends dangly?

My artistic concept is of a never-ending voyage of discovery. I’m still learning and teaching, and art has no end since it’s about creativity. The creative person can continue their adventure to uncover new ideas and stories, as well as how to communicate them in an appealing, engaging, and unique manner.

All concepts have been discussed around the world, but a good and distinguished writer can explain an idea uniquely and differently. I usually express such concepts uniquely, using theatrical treatment and scriptwriting. I’m still navigating my universe, presenting more of my scripts and unique stories.

Every novice and trainee who wants to study the forms and fundamentals of scriptwriting can enrol in my scriptwriting courses. Art never ends. Every writer and thinker who traverses their universe begins with art.

Your work as a screenplay supervisor for When Men Fall in Love and director of the script department at the Arab Media Association suggests that you have not only written but also contributed to the writing industry. What changed in your taste or vision after you started supervising other people’s scripts? Did you find yourself supporting bold or disciplined writers?

Under the direction of the renowned director Mohammed Al-Qafas, we are a scriptwriting workshop for the Saudi television series ‘When Men Fall in Love,’ and I am not a supervisor. After working with director Mohammed Al-Qafas on the Emirati television series ‘The Postman,’ I’m excited to be a part of this second experience. ‘When Men Fall in Love’ is based on a book by Saudi author Sarah Al-Aliwi. Ahmed Khater, Saher Al-Asyuti, and Ahmed Al-Qassar wrote the screenplay and dialogue.

It was a novel task for me and my fellow writers, and with the help of director Mr. Mohamed Al-Qafas, we were able to finish the job in a unique style. The series was, in fact, full of suspense, mystery, and strong sequences. Director Mohamed Karam is in charge of the writing department at the Arab International Media and Cinema Association, where I am the chairman of that division. We provide acting, directing, and scriptwriting classes.

I choose several renowned authors and supervise them in a writing workshop after the script course concludes, as I get ready to develop a television show or movie. Whether I am writing alone, overseeing the writing, or participating in a writing workshop, I always listen intently to conversations and work hard to produce the greatest content.

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You penned dramatic scripts for “The Postman,” “When Men Fall in Love,” and “No Signal,” ranging from social to political to technical. In your professional life, which of these events was a turning point? Which do you prefer, platform drama or vintage television drama?

A tragicomic, humanistic series, “The Postman,” premiered in the United Arab Emirates. Under the supervision of filmmaker Mohammed Al-Qafas, it was a sequence of distinct but related scenes, and we conveyed very significant themes in each one. The series had a simplistic plot, but the events had to be rich in a powerful and significant message that the postman conveys to certain individuals. Here, I penned significant words with a human touch.

Mohammed Al-Qafas, the renowned director of the Saudi television series “When Men Fall in Love,” which I have previously discussed. It’s distinct since it’s a romantic police thriller series with nuanced, multifaceted characters. Together with my other authors, I worked very hard to create a piece that was full of happenings and occasionally used flashbacks. This necessitated paying close attention to the size of each character in the work.

“No Signal” is a suspense mystery series on Emirati television, directed by Sami Al-Alami, with dialogue and script developed by Aya Issa and a dramatic interpretation by me. The show explores characters’ estrangement, friendships, animosity, cruelty, and retaliation. The “No Signal” series explores the upheaval of friends’ lives in a mountainous region due to a larger issue.

The series explores the possibility of resurfacing friendships, love, and warmth, or causing irreversible breakups. As a writer and scriptwriter, I identify with platform drama due to its distinctive qualities and benefits that distinguish it from traditional television shows. Platform drama is my ultimate favourite, and I always look forward to presenting a season series on platforms because of its unique characters, storytelling style, and ability to draw in a sizable audience.

You are one of the few people who moved from the Gulf to Egypt and then wrote an animation script like “The Gift: A Grant of Hala.” What distinguishes animation scriptwriting from real-world scriptwriting? Do you feel freer when writing for a universe unencumbered by gravity or the actors’ features?

Of course, writing for animation has a certain personality, especially when you’re writing films for children. You must use smooth dialogue that is very relatable to youngsters. You’ve helped write multiple flicks.

In addition, I’m working on another animation in a different nation that I can’t yet disclose. Because of the flow and style of your narrative, the way you convey knowledge to children, and the way you come up with compelling solutions for them, my writing for children is unquestionably on a different level than my writing for drama or film.

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In Bahrain, the Sultanate of Oman, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt, you have overseen training programmes. What was the trainee’s most unexpected query? What did you learn throughout the course regarding the upcoming generation of scriptwriters?

My training sessions in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Sultanate of Oman, along with the online courses, have undoubtedly been highly successful. In addition to listening to the trainees’ ideas, discussions, and question-formulation strategies, I always impart my past knowledge.

I always like having conversations and can deliver material to each trainee in an easy-to-understand approach. I never forget my responsibility to them, and I don’t leave them until they have a firm grasp of the facts. Thankfully, the trainees have gone on to become scriptwriters across other nations.

One of the trainees asked me, I recall, if I adapted the novel into a screenplay straight away, without any dramatic treatment, would the result be successful? When I clarified that drastic measures were necessary, he expressed his gratitude and said that I was the only character in the screenplay that he liked.

The younger generation is really intelligent, but they are also quite impatient; therefore, they want to finish their screenplay and see it on screen right away. However, this is not the case; scenario projects take a long time.

Additionally, I taught classes on how AI is affecting scripts. I explained to the students that, despite its unique capabilities, AI cannot write screenplays; if it does, the resulting screenplay will be shallow and emotionless. Therefore, I would advise them to avoid artificial intelligence and to let their imagination and creativity run wild.

One of your courses has an intriguing title: “The Art of Scriptwriting and Drama Production Management.” Can you see drama purely as an industry? Or do you still feel that every good script has a heart that beats with the idea before it operates by market forces?

Writing, in my opinion, is based on two complementary elements: skill and a well-written screenplay. The cornerstone is talent because it allows the writer to be creative, come up with new ideas, and uniquely create characters and events.

However, if a work lacks a successful plot, dramatic structure, and script promotion, talent alone is insufficient. It is a “successful script” that makes the writer recognisable in the marketplace. We are therefore unable to distinguish between the two.

Finally, I want to thank everyone who helped, including Arabisk London magazine. The questions were enjoyable, and I hope I was a pleasant visitor. I send you my warmest regards, filled with love and affection. Ahmed Khater, scriptwriter.

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