Osama Kamal Elolemy, thank you very much for granting the World Film Festival in Cannes this interview. The film you scripted won the award for Best Drone Film. The images shot in the heart of stunning Samarkand are breathtaking, and the captions are uplifting. Turkey has been in the news recently, but not for its dervishes. Can you tell us more about Sufism and the purification of the soul?
Thank you so much, it really means a lot. Sufism is such a beautiful, spiritual path.
At its heart, it’s about purifying the soul — letting go of ego, and embracing love, surrender, and humility. The whirling you see in the film isn’t some choreographed performance — it’s a form of prayer, a way of connecting with the divine through movement.
Filming in Samarkand made it even more powerful. The early morning silence, the sacred atmosphere, and the dervish’s slow, intentional rhythm — it all came together in a really special way. I didn’t just want people to watch the film… I wanted them to feel it, to experience that quiet, sacred energy through the screen.
Both the film’s director, Eugenia Nita, and the dervish are women. This may be a biased question, but do you think this helped capture all the beauty?
That’s a great question — and honestly, yeah, I do think it made a difference.
Eugenia, who directed the film (and happens to be my wife), has this amazing emotional instinct when she’s directing. She just feels things deeply. And the dervish — also a strong woman — brought so much raw energy and presence to the shoot. There was this quiet connection between them, like they just understood each other without needing to say much. That’s what made it feel so real. It wasn’t just about capturing a scene — they were both fully in it, living the moment.
Was the dance filmed on location or on-set?
The dance was filmed entirely on location in the historic Registan Square, at dawn in Uzbekistan. We were granted special permission to shoot before it opened to the public, which was essential — not just for the light, but for the silence. That silence allowed us to hear the soul of the place. There were no artificial lights, no crew noise — just wind, breath, and spirit. The magic of being on location made all the difference.
Is it possible for the public to access holy sites such as this one?
Yeah, some sacred sites are open to the public, but it really depends on the time of day and the purpose of your visit. In our case, we made sure to coordinate closely with the local authorities so everything was handled respectfully and privately.
You mention silence and power, “a dance of inner power” and “where silence holds ancient power.” Is silence power?
Definitely — silence is a kind of power.
With so much noise around us all the time, being silent is actually pretty powerful. It’s in the quiet moments that we really connect with ourselves. In Sufism, silence is where truth comes through.
When the dervish spins, she’s not just dancing — she’s listening. There are no words, just feeling. That’s what I mean by “inner power” — it doesn’t need to be loud to be strong.
In Europe and maybe in the rest of the Western world, whirling dervishes are seen as not much more than folk dancers. This seems to be a very misguided belief, and your graceful words — “This is not a dance,” “it’s transcendence” — prove that. A big thank you to you.
I really appreciate that, thank you.
Yeah, in the West, dervishes are often seen as just performers in colorful outfits spinning around — but it’s so much deeper than that. What we wanted to show in the film is why they whirl. It’s not a performance — it’s a spiritual act.
The spinning is about letting go, about surrendering so fully that you lose yourself in something greater. It’s not meant to entertain — it’s meant to connect. And if our film helped even a little to change how people see that, then I’m truly grateful.
What is your vision of post-COVID cinema?
The post-COVID era has reshaped cinema — not just in how it’s made, but in its very purpose. I believe we’re entering a time where audiences crave deeper human stories, cultural authenticity, and emotional truth over spectacle. There’s a hunger for connection — films that reflect resilience, identity, and shared vulnerability. Technology will continue to evolve, but what will truly define post-COVID cinema is its return to purpose:
telling stories that matter, told with intention and heart.
Today, it sometimes feels like filmmakers are playing it safe or going only for shock value, instead of telling original and uplifting stories. I truly hope we can get back to the kind of cinema that makes people smile, dream, and feel inspired — not just heavy or stressed.
BIO
Biography – Osama Kamal Elolemy
I am Osama Kamal Elolemy, also known as “genie in a click” — a fine art photographer and videographer based in Dubai, with a deep passion for documenting culture, traditions, and the human spirit. My journey began in portrait and fashion photography, but over time I was drawn to stories that transcend trends — narratives rooted in heritage, identity, and our shared connection to the land.
Today, my work focuses on capturing the beauty of diverse cultures through both still and moving images. Whether I am filming a whirling dervish at dawn in Samarkand or photographing horsemen at Tbourida festivals in Morocco, my aim is to preserve moments filled with ancestral wisdom, spiritual energy, and collective memory.
Together with my wife, I have traveled across Africa, Central Asia, and the Middle East, using the camera as a bridge between worlds. My films and photographs have been showcased in exhibitions from the UAE to Romania, and I am honored to be a member of Nikon Professional Services and the Arab Union of Photographers.
For me, photography and videography are more than art: they are a form of cultural preservation, a way to honor voices and stories that deserve to be seen and remembered.
📷 Instagram : Osama Elolemy
©2025 Isabelle Rouault-Röhlich
