Khaled Khella, used with permission from the author.
In Egypt’s bustling independent film scene, Khaled Khella has emerged as a daring voice unafraid to lay bare the unspoken struggles of his generation. Born in 1992 in Helwan, an industrial district south of Cairo, Khella’s cinematic journey began with a simple mission: to capture the unseen realities of youth navigating a society marked by contradictions, suppressed desires, and fragile dreams.
Khella’s passion for filmmaking ignited early. “I started making videos on social media. Even in high school, my friends knew me for this hobby and counted on me to share their ideas. I felt a responsibility to develop myself and be worthy of that trust,” he says. This commitment would later evolve into a body of work that combines artistic audacity with an almost brutal honesty.
Khaled Khella, used with permission from the author.
A three-minute debut that traveled the world
Khella’s first brush with international recognition came through his short film “Dunya wa Akhira” (“Life and the Afterlife”), a modest three-minute piece tackling the timeless struggle between moral conscience and worldly temptations. In the film, a young man faces a stark choice: chase a thief who stole his phone or respond to the call to prayer from the mosque.
Despite its brevity, the film resonated widely. It screened at festivals across Australia, Brazil, Italy, the Netherlands, and Greece. “That was the first time I traveled outside Egypt. It became a point of pride for my friends back home. It’s just three minutes long, but it carried so much meaning,” Khella recalls.
Power, fear, and life behind closed doors
Following this early success, Khella turned his lens to more intimate terrains. In “The Landlord,” he explored harassment by a person in power within the confines of a cramped apartment building — a psychological drama that mirrored countless unspoken stories in Egypt’s urban neighborhoods.
“I wanted to show how abuse of power creates deep psychological conflicts, but I didn’t want the landlord to be a simple villain. I directed him as a layered character struggling internally,” Khella explains. With actress Hagar El Sarrag’s gripping performance, he created a tense atmosphere that invited viewers to reflect on their own rights to safety and dignity in their homes.
‘Egyptian Misery’: Shouting what society prefers to whisper
‘Egyptian Misery’ film poster, used with permission from the author.
It was “Egyptian Misery,” however, that cemented Khella’s reputation as a filmmaker willing to cross red lines. Produced in 2017 on a shoestring budget of about 3,000 Egyptian pounds (roughly USD 175 at the time), the film painted raw portraits of eight young Egyptians grappling with invisible wounds.
“The film is a cry from youth living in a complicated reality. As someone from Helwan, I’ve seen many social classes up close. I wanted to depict youth from across these layers — from a university graduate forced into party planning work, to someone who broke his leg just to avoid military service,” Khella says.
The stories emerged from real confessions sent anonymously to a Facebook page called “Egyptian Misery.” Khella sifted through 30 narratives before selecting four that revealed individuals society often labels troublemakers — people dismissed or ridiculed without any understanding of the harm that shaped them.
Among these were startling stories: a bread seller repeating the haunting line, “As long as you are useless, no one will exploit you;” a young man who has sex with a teddy bear; someone who discovers the Lebanese girl he fell for online was actually his friend playing a cruel prank. “These characters try to justify continuing with life. If they truly grasped how broken they were, they might not be able to go on,” Khella reflects.
Rejecting polished performances, he deliberately cast non-professional actors through an open call on his Facebook page. “I wanted people who had never acted before, to keep the reactions shy and honest — just like the stories.”
Reactions were predictably mixed. Some viewers saw reflections of themselves or people they knew. Others were disturbed. “A few rejected the film outright, but no one doubted the stories were real,” Khella notes. “It was important for me to give voice to people who can’t express themselves, regardless of whether it would change anything in society.”
When asked if the suffering he portrays might ever end, Khella answers with disarming realism: “It won’t. Because most of these people don’t even see they have a problem. They’re at peace with their situations.”
The struggles of staying independent
Film poster: ‘130km to Heaven,’ used with permission from the author.
Like many independent Egyptian directors, Khella faced logistical battles. Filming permits for street scenes often meant grappling with security authorities. “That’s a challenge for any indie filmmaker here. Plus, convincing a whole team to work for free is no small feat,” he says. Yet he found a way, driven by a belief that raw stories deserved the spotlight, no matter the obstacles.
Khella continued his streak of bold storytelling. In 2015, he directed “130 km to Heaven,” where he examined the dreams and delusions of two friends who travel from their hometown to a major tourist city, chasing money and fleeting pleasures. The film touched on the quiet desperation of youth eager for a better life, screening at festivals including the Beirut International Film Festival.
In 2023, with “Public Indecency,” a film about a young couple wandering Cairo in search of a private space to share intimacy, only to be chased by strangers determined to police their presence. The film, starring Tharaa Joubail and Ibrahim Al-Naggary, won second prize for its screenplay at a workshop held during the first El Gouna Film Festival, later streaming on Viu.
For Khella, cinema remains less a career than a moral calling. “I’m not after profit. I just want to screen these films and start conversations. Anything I write is either something I’ve felt deeply or something that happened to someone close to me,” he says.
He dreams of a future where independent films can reach wider audiences and ignite real dialogue.
“I believe art is a powerful tool for change. In my next projects, I want to keep raising urgent social issues. I hope my films travel far and touch as many people as possible to start real discussions that make a difference in the lives of individuals and society.”
