Forbidden Dance

Nir (48) is an established choreographer. As he visits his friend Ilan in Tel Aviv, they drink coffee and Nir remembers what it felt like to him to meet “his” Syrian dancers in 2015. He was excited, but terrified of saying he is Israeli. Ilan says, “Darling, we are so brainwashed!” Mehdat (36), beautiful curls and nostalgic eyes, walks his husky in Berlin’s streets. “I have been here for eight years. That is how long I haven’t seen my family in Syria.” His eyes are always a bit sad. Nir phones him from Israel, realizing “in all these years I never called you from Israel. It felt forbidden!” Mouafak (29) has long hair and a skinny body. He is a dormant volcano, who loves to wear his German girlfriend’s clothes. Like his cousin Medhat, he arrived in Berlin in 2015. Haidar’s (27) pronouns are them/they. Their eyes match their fiery personality. In a satin bathrobe, they are checking their Insta account. 26,000 followers. “My life is different from the one of the boys, I am not straight.” Haidar left Syria in 2017. “Being queer, I have no future in Syria.” For the Israeli choreographer Nir, the collaboration with the Syrian dancers is a dream come true - his Middle Eastern utopia. In Israel, or Syria, such collaboration is forbidden and dangerous. In Berlin the four slowly built up trust and created two successful dance pieces with spoken word. 2025 marks the 10th anniversary of their collaboration. In the new show Nir wants their bodily trauma to be the topic. He is convinced they each carry a war trauma and embodied fears of their neighbor inside. Nir says “I wore a gas mask during the Gulf War and then a gun in the army”. Nir dreams of a big change for the show. In the past the dancers told their stories, while he choreographed them. In that way the Israeli-Syrian collaboration remained invisible to the public. "This time I want the 'us' to be visible.” This encounter of Israeli and Syrian bodies on stage in public comes with a risk! Will it endanger Medhat’s and Mouafak's families? Will they agree to it? Nir meets the group for dinner to discuss the idea. When he brings it up, Medhat and Mouafak remain quiet. Haidar agrees, as they have nothing to lose, being out and queer. For a while, they discuss other topics to avoid their unspoken thoughts which hang heavily over them. Eventually they agree to it. Nir is auditioning Israeli dancers for the new piece. He wants to know what creative choices he has. At night in a stuffy bar an Israeli Drag Queen and Haidar perform their monthly show, wearing glamorous outfits. In this glittery context they break every possible Middle Eastern taboo. Then Haidar receives a video. An Iraqi sheik uses their face to demonize queer people online. Haidar dances in Berlin's Arab neighborhood, even the streets of Berlin are a dangerous place. To us their dance is beautiful, but the voices on the streets tell a different story. The day has come for the two-month rehearsal process to begin. Choreographer Nir has decided he'll be the Israeli dancer on stage. For the first time the Israeli and Syrian stories will be told side by side. How will the group dynamic shift with the Israeli narrative added? Medhat and Mouafak are still looking for ways to bring their families to Germany. They speak to them daily but Medhat simply can’t afford to send more than €500 a month. The level of poverty in Syria is worsening. “I’m 36, can I still afford to be a dancer?” In front of the foreigners registration office, a line of people wait to enter the building, watching Medhat dancing. His limbs seem to pull him apart, as if he is torn. During rehearsals it dawns on him: if he has an opportunity to make more money, he’ll quit the show. This would ruin everything! His cousin Mouafak is younger and has better career options. Still “if powerful people in Syria find out that we are working with Israelis, we are traitors, anyone carrying our last name will be in danger.” With intimate observations, the film dives deep into the lives of the four artists and this daring collaboration. Rehearsals continue daily. They confront their deeply ingrained fears and embodied traumas. Their work infiltrates their lives and their lives impact their work. How far can they go in speaking of their families in public? What things should Nir not say? They each have their issues: Haidar often struggles with Nir’s authoritarian ways, while Medhat doesn't know if he can go on with the show and prioritizes other things. Despite all that pressure, they never stop laughing. On one rehearsal day Haidar comes up with the idea of teaching them belly-dancing. Gradually they learn to deconstruct their ideas of Middle-Eastern manhood. While the film unfolds, their dancing enables us to dive into their emotional worlds. We see them face life, while confronting the ugly, ongoing Middle East conflict. Yet, they never give up on hope or on their utopia. At least in Berlin it can become a reality. After much hard work, opening night comes around. Instead of stopping with the premiere of the show, we move to a massive public stage at the Brandenburg Gate. It is Pride Day. A presenter announces the next act: it is about tolerating differences, no matter what gender, or nationality. And here they come: Nir, Medhat, Mouafak and Haidar wearing belly dancing skirts. They dance in front of thousands. It’s a Middle Eastern celebration in the here and now.