A few days after the withdrawal of US and NATO troops from Afghanistan in 2021, director Ibrahim Nash’at arrived in Kabul, “with only an Afghan translator and a camera.” Though under constant surveillance, Nash’at had been granted access to follow the day-in day-out of two selected Taliban officials at the newly occupied Hollywoodgate complex in Kabul. 

“I came to see in whose hands this country was left in.” 

It becomes obvious that the Taliban are aware of the power of images, restricting what is allowed to be filmed by Nash’at and what is off-limits. Still, the final edit of Hollywoodgate, resulting from two hundred and twenty hours of raw documentary footage, is far from the propaganda movie the Taliban had envisioned when they first let the man with the camera into the country they claim as their own.  

With all this complexity, Hollywoodgate gives us a glimpse into how the Taliban think and conduct their days, while also revealing the impulsive violence with which they execute their power. It’s a violence that is not only – and not necessarily – loud, but whose destructive power also lies in the quiet moments: in their conversations, their off-hand comments, their laughter, in every action and choice they act upon. 

“I was kept away from the daily suffering of the Afghans, yet I feel it everywhere I go.”

However, Nash’at also wants us to remember that the people in Afghanistan are not only facing the violence of the Taliban but also the abandonment of those that spent the last twenty years making promises of betterment to them. It’s estimated that 7.1 billion dollars worth of advanced equipment was left behind by US forces – from army rifles, to helicopters and fighter jets. 

Their daily suffering is being passed on and transforms; as easily as newly seized AK-47’s are passed on from one pair of hands to the other. 

What we see in Hollywoodgate is just what Nash’at saw:

“The obscene power and the pain that it causes.”