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You know the type: the one who’s bolting through the airport or train station, complaining that there was traffic or public-transport delays, or that they couldn’t find their keys. Meanwhile those of you early-arrival types, sipping your cappuccinos or beers in a café, mulling the shops or magazines in the departure hall, shake your heads and wonder, “Didn’t they leave a buffer?”

Yes, I’m one of those who often forgets the buffer, though I have become better as I’ve matured (cue your sceptical “Have you, though?”). Nonetheless, this column is in defence of us late-arrivers because we have been marginalised of late (and because I haven’t really changed). The most recent example is from London’s King’s Cross train station, where rail authorities, in their infinite wisdom, have resolved to remove trains from their boards a full three to four minutes before departure to avoid people falling over themselves in that last-gasp rush to the platforms.

Illustration of a woman running for a plane
Illustration: Studio Pong

As someone writing this piece on a German train from Magdeburg to Berlin, which I caught with one minute to spare, I resent King’s Cross for its nanny-state approach – and for its pointlessness. For one, we all have apps that tell us the platform number, so you won’t be able to fool us late-arrivals that easily. And if this is about safety, all you’re doing is shifting when we have to sprint, not if.

Airports are no different: digitalisation has given check-in desks an easy excuse to refuse latecomers. I recently arrived to check in for a flight at Heathrow with 57 minutes to spare and was told by a computer that I was too late. The attendant confirmed that she had no way of overriding the online check-in and got rather annoyed with me for asking. Contrast that with a flight that I successfully made 15 years ago at JFK in New York, with only 35 minutes from arrival to take-off, after I dared the check-in desk lady to let me try. She had no online terminal to override and so accepted my challenge. I made the flight. The system worked – so why change? Efficiency is no excuse. An airline that refuses my check-in is left with an empty seat on the plane and, unless you’re Ryanair, has to politely book you on the next flight. 

There is a point to all this beyond my personal gripes. Ask anyone who cuts these things rather fine and they will espouse the advantages of their habit. Timing your arrival exactly means finishing that one final nagging task; avoiding the drudgery of airport terminals and questionable food service; spending an extra few minutes embracing a friend or loved one who you rarely see before they have to head off again; and swerving the tedium sitting at the arrival gate or being one of those people who lines up instantly when the gate-announcer declares that it’s time to board because you have already been sitting there for 30 minutes. Time can be better spent than waiting at the airport.

“Militant arrival times suck the joy out of travel. If I want to risk a 100-metre dash through the terminal, that’s my choice.”

On a personal note, I have my rights: if I chose to arrive just in time for a train and engage in a dance with destiny, shouldn’t that be allowed? My parents try hard enough to keep raising me into my 40s – do I really need the train attendants to do the same? Granted, this is not a lifestyle choice for everyone but I do speak for a minority of chronic late-arrivers who time their departures to the minute, while the rest of you enjoy a cosy meal and drink in the airport lounge. Yes, we should do better but militant arrival times also detract from the beauty and flexibility of travel. Not everyone wants a flight to take over an entire day of their lives. 

As for me, I’m learning to become the person who actually enjoys a bit of food and shopping at the airport. After my one-minute train scare in Magdeburg, I’m finishing this column with a two-hour buffer at Berlin Brandenburg Airport. This is because I’m tired of the stress – not because anyone told me to be early. On principle, however, I stand firm: I should have the right to fall back into bad habits and prove to myself that I can, in fact, run a terminal-length 100-metre dash. 15 minutes to Terminal D? I’ll make it in 5. Watch me.

It’s not up to King’s Cross to teach me a lesson. If I miss my connection, then I should have only myself to blame.

Best armchair
Flair O’ Maxi by B&B Italia
Italy

The Flair O’ Maxi is a new iteration of B&B Italia’s 2021 Flair O’ chair – and the rightful winner of our best armchair award. We love it for its simplicity: its stately plinth and swivel combined with comfortable padding. “The key idea for this particular form was ‘lounging’,” Monica Armani, the chair’s designer, tells Monocle. “But that’s a very broad notion. Last year, suddenly inspired by Italian dresses from the 1960s, I decided to change the proportions of the seat.” 
bebitalia.com

Best bar
Bar Vitrine by Frama
Denmark

Best portable light
Snowman 15 Portable by ILKW
South Korea

Best in the kitchen
Expressive series oven by Gaggenau
Germany

German home-appliances manufacturer Gaggenau’s latest is a sleek oven from the Expressive Series. “The kitchen is now often part of the living room,” says Gaggenau industrial designer Alexander Stuhler. “That means you might have a view of it from your sofa. So it’s important to design appliances that you want to look at.” Here, that means a simplified user interface, smooth joints and a floating control ring – a combination that lets you show off your cooking skills and your taste.  
gaggenau.com

Best for versatility 
Studie chair by Fermob 
France

Fermob’s versatile oak-and-metal Studie chair is the perfect stackable number. It was created by French designer Tristan Lohner as a seat that’s fit for the dining room but just as easily used in other situations. “When I pick up a pencil, I aim to get closer to the concept of service,” says Lohner. The concept of service is wonderfully broad. We can see this chair in a French bistro, an auditorium or piled up five-high after a party. 
bebitalia.com

Best bookshop 
Good Company Bookshop 
Portugal

Best train fit-out 
TGV InOui by Nendo and Arep 
France

Best camera 
Sigma BF 
Japan

Best hospitality fit-out 
Finlandia Hall by Fyra 
Finland

Best retail installation 
‘Je t’aime comme un chien’ by Le Bon Marché 
France

Best in production 
Kasthall 
Sweden

Best retail addition 
Alaïa’s London café and bookshop 
UK

Best playground 
Yirran muru playspace 
Australia

When Shellharbour’s town council planned an educational space to recount the local Dharawal Aboriginal people’s history, they tapped landscape architect Fiona Robbé for a playground design. “You should experience a good playground for its own sake but a deeper didactic meaning is there if you want it,” says Robbé of the project, whose design functions as a miniature map of the Dharawal people’s region. Blue zones represent the nearby ocean and lake, sandpits symbolise the beach and coast, and a large stone semicircle represents the Illawara escarpment.
architectsofarcadia.com.au 

Most democratic design 
Mofalla Easy chair by Ikea 
Sweden

Best branding
27/4 by Yorgo & Co
France

Best artistic installation
‘On Weaving’ pavilion
Saudi Arabia

Best incubator
UAE Designer Exhibition
UAE

Cities such as Abu Dhabi and Dubai have long imported star architects and designers from across the globe for major works. But the UAE Designer Exhibition, which took place during last November’s Dubai Design Week, is shifting the narrative. “We want people to know that design’s potential here is quite large,” says Omar Al Gurg (pictured), who curated the most recent exhibition, spotlighting 30 local talents. About 22,500 visitors saw the show, helping to change the Gulf’s design narrative. 
dubaidesignweek.ae

Best hi-fi
RA03 by Rudy Audio
Denmark

Lifetime achievement
Marva Griffin
Italy

For more than 25 years, Venezuelan-born, Milan-based curator Marva Griffin has been helping to develop design talent from across the globe. In 1999 she founded Salone Satellite, an exhibition within Milan’s Salone del Mobile trade show that spotlights projects by young practitioners under the age of 35. It has nurtured the careers of designers such as Cristina Celestino, Sebastian Herkner and Oki Sato – an on-going achievement that’s worthy of celebration. 

Best bedframe
MC-1 by ReFramed
Denmark

Most playful design
Aço collection by Ghome
Portugal

Residential architect of the year
Manuel Cervantes
Mexico

It’s appropriate that we’re meeting Manuel Cervantes, our residential architect of the year (though his practice encompasses much more), in his studio. “I live next door, so it’s an extension of my home,” says Cervantes. His residence and studio is filled with books, artwork and objects that “shape the way that we discuss projects”, says the architect. “It’s a space for thinking and connection, not just work. Sometimes it’s easier to communicate an idea with a painting or a material sample than through a drawing.”

Best retail display
Tojiro Knife Gallery
Japan

Best exhibition design
Gallery of the Kings
Italy

Best glassware
Fit by Aldo Bakker for J Hill’s Standard
Ireland

Dutch designer Aldo Bakker’s on-going collaboration with J Hill’s Standard, an Irish maker of contemporary cut crystal, is underpinned by their shared admiration for form and the use of glass. Their cup-and-carafe combination, named Fit, can be stacked and comes in three colours: grey, clear and opaque ochre. “We want to re-establish the glass industry in Ireland,” says Anike Tyrrell, the founder of J Hill’s Standard. “We’re not interested in revisiting what’s already been done a thousand times.”
jhillsstandard.com; aldobakker.com 

Best gadget
TP-7 field recorder by Teenage Engineering
Sweden

Best project evolution 
Rita Lee Park by Ecomimesis 
Brazil

Best storage solution 
Util 
Portugal

Best design partnership 
Holder Objects 
Chile & Germany

Best lamp 
Bellhop Glass T by Barber Osgerby for Flos
Italy 

Curator to watch 
Zanele Kumalo 
South Africa 

Zanele Kumalo is an invaluable member of South Africa’s design scene, platforming the work of local creatives through her work as curator of Design Week South Africa – a new fair that took place for the first time last October across Johannesburg and Cape Town. “What drives me is helping young creatives find a firmer footing in places where they haven’t had access,” she says. “There’s such a wealth of talent in this country.” 

Best sports facility 
Gerland Aquatic and Sports Centre 
France

Best first-class cabin 
La Première by Air France 
France

Best civic building 
Siège du Conseil de la Concurrence 
Morocco 

Reflecting centuries-old heritage in the design of a new building is a tough brief. But Rabat-based Prism Architectes have found a way to meld traditional details with contemporary requirements in its design of new headquarters for Morocco’s Conseil de la Concurrence, an institution that aims to ensure transparency in the country’s economic relations. 

Best material innovation 
Sungai Design 
Indonesia

Since Gary Bencheghib and his siblings co-founded the river clean-up nonprofit Sungai Watch in Bali in 2020, they have collected more than 2,000,000kg of plastic waste. Rather than sending it to landfill, they have been transforming it into chairs. 

Best community initiative 
Casa Ria by David Chipperfield Architects 
Spain

Best emergency facility 
Jircany Fire Station by SOA Architekti 
Czechia 

Emerging designer 
Minjae Kim  
South Korea & USA 

Best imprint 
Park Books 
Switzerland 

Graduate to watch
Changhwi Kim 
South Korea 

Driven by empathy and an insatiable curiosity, Changhwi Kim creates products that go well beyond what is expected. Fresh from design school, Kim is a nuanced observer of people and everyday objects, and he aspires to build a better, more playful world. We meet him to discuss his graduation project, “Ed!t”, in his collaborative workspace, Creative Group 297. 

Best for seniors
Little Tokyo Towers by OWIU 
USA

Best modernisation  
Astep Model 262 
Denmark

Best new hotel 
Stadthotel Kleiner Löwe 
Austria 

Best public space 
Pier 22 by Mostlikely Architecture  
Austria

Best for contemplation 
Raj Sabhagruh 
India 

Civic architect of the year 
Jeanne Gang 
USA

Best cutlery 
Concorde by Christofle 
France 

Best for coffee 
Linea Micra by La Marzocco 
Italy

Best renovation 
Lunetta by Acme 
Australia 

What the winners receive 

The award by Harry Thaler 
Merano 

Harry Thaler has crafted the trophy for the Monocle Design Awards since its debut in 2021, working with the Tscherms-based workshop of Martin Klotz to refine its curved timber form. For the 2025 iteration, Thaler opted for plywood as the primary material, reflecting human ingenuity; the laminating of several layers of timber veneer make a product that is lighter than solid wood. The trophy, which can be used as a paperweight, is a testament to thoughtful design that is celebrated by these awards, which this year are supported by Cupra Design House. 

A note from Cupra Design House:

Design has always been at the heart of everything that we do at CUPRA. It shapes our identity, defines our language and runs through every innovation and experience that we create. For us, design isn’t just about form; it’s about emotion, energy and defying convention. Every line, texture and detail in our cars is an expression of our rebellious spirit. 

Inspired by collaborations with like-minded brands who also see design as a space to inspire the future, we push further into new, unexplored territories.

From the materials that shape our cars’ interiors to the bold ethos that inspires our sportswear collection, every step that we take is a testament to our passion for design – a passion that transcends the automotive world and speaks to ingenuity, innovation and human connection.

The first mayor of Amsterdam was appointed in 1383 in a process not dissimilar to that used in 2018, when Femke Halsema became the first woman to hold the position. Amsterdam’s mayor is nominated by the minister of the interior and kingdom relations on the recommendation of the municipal council – a selection then rubber-stamped by the Dutch monarch. This makes Halsema’s role officially apolitical but she has responsibility for many political things, including taxation and the police. Some argue that this state of affairs is more suited to the 14th century but not being beholden to voters might also mean that a politician can propose radical solutions to urban ills.

Halsema has done exactly this. She is a proponent of both decriminalising all drugs and introducing tighter rules on the selling of cannabis to tourists, as well as its consumption. (It is the only narcotic currently legal in the Netherlands.) Her boldest idea – relocating Amsterdam’s red-light district to a purpose-built “erotic centre” on the outskirts of town – does not contradict her pro-sex-worker pronouncements. She is also battling the twin scourges of gentrification and over-tourism, signing legislation this year that will limit to 15 the number of days residential properties in certain neighbourhoods can be let out on platforms such as Airbnb; while in 2023 she launched “Stay Away”, a campaign to deter undesirable tourists from visiting Amsterdam. 

But perhaps her greatest challenge came in November last year, when clashes between supporters of Israeli soccer club Maccabi Tel Aviv and local youths made global headlines. Media reports alleged that young men had “hunted” the team’s Jewish fans, sparking outrage from both Joe Biden and Benjamin Netanyahu. Halsema earned praise for a response that ultimately calmed tensions between the city’s Jewish and Muslim communities. On a misty day in the Dutch capital, Halsema welcomed Monocle into her official residence, a 17th-century canal-side townhouse, to discuss the riots, housing, security and much more.

Let’s dive into that episode in November that became a global story within hours. What’s it like when the US president inserts himself into your municipal affairs, while the Israeli prime minister proposes dispatching jets to Schiphol Airport?
It felt utterly surreal. Someone told me that the rioters had chosen the sweetest city in Europe. I don’t know whether that’s true but we have relatively little crime and few riots. And then this. Of course, what happened that night was terrible. But in hindsight I’m increasingly astonished. At the very moment we were still collecting all the data, Joe Biden was already responding, 30 minutes before our press conference. We tried to be careful not to be cornered by hasty reactions.

What did you learn from that episode?
What deeply moved me was the pain in our Jewish community. During the Second World War, almost all of the city’s Jews were deported from Amsterdam, with a questionable role played by the municipality. Even after the war, the reception was distressing. Yet Jews have always continued to speak fondly of “Mokum”, their city since the 16th century, with synagogues and a rich Jewish life. After the riots, a deep hurt arose. What shocked me next was how politicians and certain residents were quick to single out Muslims, another pillar of this city. Since the riots, I have been investing a lot of time in conversations with both Jews and Muslims. My message to them is clear: this was your city yesterday, it is today, and it will remain your city tomorrow.

Since the coronavirus pandemic, the city has seemed agitated. Geopolitics has an effect on local politics. How do you govern a restless city where disagreements can lead to physical confrontations?

Are the city and country really more unsettled, or do we cope worse? I think the latter. Amsterdam has a history of resilience. Geopolitical tensions are nothing new – the largest-ever demonstration in the city was against US nuclear weapons in the middle of the Cold War. After September 11 and the murder [by a 26-year-old Dutch-Moroccan] of film director Theo van Gogh in 2004, emotions also ran high. Commotion is part of a city like Amsterdam; people make themselves heard and sometimes clash. We always have been a city of individuals, not of groups. Unrest is of all times but the reactions now are more hysterical and there is less and less room for dissent. That worries me.

As a mayor, you are in charge of maintaining public order and have authority over the police. How do you approach this?
We call it “the triangle”. It consists of me, the chief public prosecutor and the police commissioner. We direct the police. I have the last vote but we almost always agree. That strengthens my position in talks on security with national politicians. Demonstrations in the city have doubled since 2023. We’re also grappling with a rise in mentally disturbed people prone to violence. We have about 4,750 police officers but are short 300 full-time positions. Yet the government thinks that we have enough people. In the medium term, this harms public safety.

Speaking of public safety and wellbeing, in your position as a mayor and police chief, you advocate for the legalisation of drugs. Other European mayors do not yet dare to explore this topic.
The debate is ideologically charged due to the failed war on drugs. People hardly dare to talk about it rationally for fear that by doing so, they condone it. But why leave a health-risk product to criminals? Alcohol and medicine are regulated, why not drugs? Take MDMA: it’s less harmful than alcohol yet has been banned since the late 1980s. The consequence? The Netherlands is now the world’s biggest producer, resulting in illegal labs and drug wars. We want to investigate how much tax and excise duty we are losing and what a regulated market could look like. Eighty per cent of Amsterdam’s police capacity is used on drug crime. This is unsustainable. It is not a moral issue but an economic and managerial problem that requires rational solutions.

Do any colleagues in Europe share your ideas?
Many leaders privately agree but fear the political fallout of going public. Behind closed doors, I get a lot of support. The mayor of Bern openly supports me, as does Claudia López, the former mayor of Bogotá. Awareness is also growing within police, justice and health services. An international group of former heads of state and secretary-generals support regulation but they wait until they are out of office before speaking out. 

Amsterdam is a prosperous city but residents complain ofhousing shortages and overcrowding.
Growth means that things are going well, and our scale makes the city manageable. However, there are significant issues: we have both the richest and poorest neighbourhoods in the Netherlands, and middle groups are moving away. That is why we invest unequally: not pro rata to the number of inhabitants per neighbourhood. The money goes where it is needed – a pragmatic, sharp, social-democratic choice to keep the city liveable.

Property prices here are rising at the fastest rate in Europe and the population is approaching one million. There is less and less space for lower-income groups. What is the city doing about this?
We are building everywhere but the housing shortage is increasing. Things are moving too slowly. We will have to densify. In new neighbourhoods, we will build upwards, without modifying the historic city centre. This requires more infrastructure, schools and public transport, as we are already competing for every square centimetre, while dealing with the effects of climate change in a city below sea-level. It is a highly complex puzzle.

Tourists are also competing for space – the city had a record 22 million visitors last year. What are you doing to decrease tourism?
We need to think hard about the tourist/resident ratio. The city’s liveability is under enormous pressure. In Barcelona, short-term rentals will be banned from 2028. That will be inevitable for us too, we need to change the tide. People jetting in on €25 flights to binge drink and get high, with no thought for the town, adds nothing to our economy. That needs to change. In Amsterdam, tourism accounts for about 10 per cent of employment. That’s not so bad but not crucial. Business services, technology, and health and sciences mean much more to the city. Fewer tourists do not necessarily harm the economy. Everyone remains welcome but mass tourism without local connection has to decline.

As Amsterdam celebrates its 750th birthday this year, how well is the city really doing?
Amsterdam keeps changing – it’s greener, fairer and more in tune with its residents. But one thing remains constant: it’s a city with a big heart and a rebellious streak. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The CV

1966: Born in Haarlem.
1993: Graduated from Utrecht University with a degree in criminology and sociology. 
1998: Enters parliament, representing GroenLinks. 
2002: Elected leader of the GroenLinks party. 
2012: Works as a documentary filmmaker and journalist.
2018: Becomes Amsterdam’s first female mayor and the first from GroenLinks. 

Lebanon’s cultural institutions have long existed in a hostile environment. Historically, the country’s weak state has hobbled public sector sponsorship of artistic production on the European model. Yet Beirut’s arts institutions persevere. Among the most robust are Metropolis, an arthouse cinema founded in 2006; the Arab Image Foundation (AIF), an artist-led photo-archiving project launched in 1997; and Metro al-Madina, a repertory theatre founded in 2012. These private initiatives have thrived despite state indifference and in defiance of Lebanon’s political, economic and security instability.

The years since 2019 have been trying for the city: financial collapse, the 2020 port explosion, the coronavirus pandemic, political stagnation and war. The crises have reduced many to penury and emigration. Lebanon’s haemorrhage of artists, experienced administrators and other cultural labourers has undermined organisations’ capacities and institutional memory. The support of local and international donors is more uncertain, while those who have stayed have had less money and leisure time. 

Yet, in stubborn optimism, Metropolis, AIF and Metro have each moved into new spaces during this time. When the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah ended the bombing of greater Beirut in November, their hopes were fuelled. Metropolis, AIF and Metro continue to face challenges but they share an unshakeable belief in the power of culture in times of crisis.


1.
The cinema
Putting arthouse film in the frame
Metropolis

“Metropolis is almost 19 years old but this is a new venue,” says Hania Mroué. “No matter how prepared you think you are, there are always things that you discover as you go.” Mroué started dancing professionally at 18, performing at the prestigious Caracalla Dance Theatre for 13 years. She later studied economics, then earned a diploma in cinema production. In 1999, Mroué co-founded a filmmaking co-operative and served as managing director of its Ayam Beirut al-Cinemaiyya (Beirut Cinema Days) festival. When asked how a dancer found herself running a film festival, she shrugs. “For the love of cinema.”

Metropolis Art Cinema’s new venue in Mar Mikhael

After five years without a proper location, thousands descended on the cinema’s new space on opening night in December last year. Among those to address the crowd were Hollywood star Cate Blanchett, French auteur Jacques Audiard and Lebanese director Nadine Labaki, who all sent video messages to express their support. Since then, Mroué’s 15-person team has been playing catch-up, hosting events programmed for a 2024 season severely truncated by the war. The reception has been strong, with mostly sold-out festival programmes. “It’s a diverse audience and very wide, age-wise,” says Mroué (pictured). “In general, the audience of arthouse cinemas across the world is ageing. That’s not the case in Beirut.”

Metropolis’s story began in July 2006, in the basement theatre of the Saroulla, a cinematic institution of pre-civil war Beirut. Its debut event was a run of that year’s Cannes’ Semaine de la Critique programme. A few hours after a sold-out opening, Beirut Airport was bombed – the start of a month-long war with Israel. While European guests fled via Damascus, young people from displaced families now sheltering in the theatre came to watch Metropolis’s projections. Two years later the cinema migrated to a two-screen theatre and a business partnership with Empire, a Beirut-based regional cinema and distribution chain. “It allowed us to grow,” Mroué said in 2020. “It gave us access to a beautiful cinema and allowed us to release many Lebanese and Arab films in other commercial cinemas.”

Metropolis also partnered with international film industry bodies to create workshops and training platforms for the region’s young film professionals and set up outreach programmes to bring cinema to students in Lebanon, including youngsters in refugee camps. It established Cinematheque Beirut – a Wikipedia-style online archive for the region’s neglected cinema heritage – and created an independent film distribution company.

Hania Mroué, the cinema’s founding director

When political demonstrations erupted in October 2019, the cinema joined other Beirut arts institutions in expressing solidarity with a general strike. But when Metropolis wanted to resume programming, Empire shuttered the cinema in January 2020. Mroué’s team continued as much of its work as possible without a location. And, slowly, Mroué started gathering support for a purpose-built cinema from international, regional and domestic institutions including European embassies, cultural centres and film platforms, foundations and distributors.

The newest iteration sits in Mar Mikhael, a two-hall structure with an outdoor projection area. In April, the venue will host a new festival focusing on the cinema of the Global South. “We’re gathering international filmmakers who work with the same constraints as the Arab world: censorship, lack of support and infrastructure,” says Mroué. “It’ll be interesting to see how they deal with these challenges and still manage to create wonderful films.”


2.
The archive
Preserving the image of the Middle East
Arab Image Foundation

Arab Image Foundation director Rana Nasser Eddin

Rana Nasser Eddin is anxious to get back to normal operations. The Arab Image Foundation (AIF) director is awaiting the delivery from Kirkuk of Kurdish photographer Ramazan Zamdar’s collection of glass photographic plates dating from the 1930s to the 1980s. “In his studio photography, Zamdar used glass plate technology long after the film revolution,” says Nasser Eddin.

Six months after AIF opened the doors to its new premises in March 2024, warplanes began targeting locations across greater Beirut, delaying the shipment of the collection. “Beirut airport was functional,” says Nasser Eddin.“But no art shipper was willing to transport 13,000 glass plates to a place that’s being bombed.” The foundation activated emergency protocols, which involved packing and securing its collections and paper archive while preparing evacuation plans.

Documenting prints

Co-founded by Akram Zaatari, Fouad Elkoury and Samer Modad, AIF is a unique project: a resource for the critical discussion of archival practices and a collection of photographic objects from the MENA region. With the Zamdar collection, the foundation will have approximately 600,000 objects from 308 collections, dating from the 1860s through to the 1990s and spanning 50 countries. Beirut’s port blast ruined the foundation’s previous offices – a cramped flat 300 metres from the explosion – but the collection emerged intact.

The foundation now nests in a three-story suite of rooms in Beirut’s Aresco Center, a short stroll from Lebanon’s National Library and three universities. The workspaces (where AIF’s six-person technical team conserves, documents and digitises images and preserves them in climate-controlled storage), the library and 42-seat auditorium, which will soon house a Beirut filmmaking co-operative, occupy the basement. At ground level, gallery-style spaces with shopfront windows allow for exhibitions and workshops. Public Works, a critically minded research and design studio, operates from AIF’s mezzanine. 

In 2024, AIF’s library opened to the public. The stacks combine its specialist print library with Dawawine bookshop’s collections dedicated to cinema, sound and performance, and the library of Public Works. AIF launched its public programme in March with a series of screenings and talks about politics and film translation.


3.
The theatre
Inspiring future generations to take the stage
Metro al-Madina

Hisham Jaber’s flat overlooks Beirut’s derelict Holiday Inn, which was ruined during Lebanon’s civil war a few months after it opened in 1974. Through its gaping windows, the Mediterranean is clearly visible. “There will be peace, it seems,” says Jaber, glancing into his coffee. “We’ve faced many problems these past 13 years but now we have a clearer vision of what we should do.”

The flat is a short walk away from the Metro al-Madina theatre, which Jaber co-founded. He is well known for his on-stage persona: cabaret emcee Roberto Kobrolsi, notable for his mop of black curls, spectacles and fondness for silver lamé. Since 2002, Jaber has written and directed more than a dozen plays, musicals, stand-up comedy routines and cabarets that have been staged around Lebanon and the wider region. While Jaber is invested in recent history, the performances he’s staged tend to favour the light-hearted and sardonic over the tragic. And when asked why he became an entertainer, it’s a simple answer. “I like people to be happy,” he says.

The theatre’s co-founder Hisham Jaber

Like Metropolis cinema, Metro was born in Saroulla’s little theatre. But since July 2023 it has made its home at the theatre of the Aresco Center, next door to The Arab Image Foundation (AIF). “We moved during the biggest crisis of our generation,” says Jaber. “They said we were mad but it was a good move. You feel new energy in the hall.” Renovated and redesigned by architect Paul Kaloustian, Metro’s terraced hall can seat more than 700 guests at tables in front of the 14-metre-wide stage. The venue is “a bit trippy”, says Jaber. “It’s like something from a 1960s film about the future or outer space.”

Currently headlining at Metro is Al-Souq al-Oumoumi (The Public Market), a musical comedy set in the early 20th century, in a thriving red-light district on Beirut’s Mutanabbi Street. Featuring 18 vocalists and musicians, the show was written and directed by Jaber, who created the music with composer Makram Aboul Hosn. 

During the recent war, Metro unveiled 3al-Qamar (On the Moon), a series of intimate Tuesday evening listening sessions. “We invite two or three solo musicians to try something new,” says Jaber. “It’s a lab for small gigs that could later develop into a main stage show.” Several new performers have also emerged from Mehaniya, a free, two-year performing-arts programme that the troupe created in 2022. Rather than soliciting donations, the theatre invites regular clients to become partners in the company, though some support comes from the Arab Fund for Arts and Culture (AFAC) and Unesco. AFAC and Culture Resource, another regional cultural support agency, also made a grant to Metro after the Beirut port blast.

Al-Souq al-Oumoumi at Metro al-Madina 

Jaber says that peace will be a time for consolidation and experimentation, and it should bring younger artists with fresh ideas to the theatre. “Next year, we might start working with new technologies. With AI – sensors and suits – you can bring a new dimension to onstage visuals.” He sips his coffee. “And it’s cheaper. Thank god.”

While much in Lebanon is still in ruins, Jaber echoes the sentiments of Mroué and Nasser Eddin, expressing relief and enthusiasm at the prospect of something resembling normality in Lebanon. Like Metropolis and AIF, Metro has come through the crises on firmer ground than before 2019. The contingency, though, never abates entirely. “We are still recovering from the extreme violence that we lived through in 2024,” says Mroué. “We’re happy, but cautious. We know how fragile this stability is.”

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