Film
Moon Knight and the Importance of Being Seen
Marvel’s Moon Knight Depicts Contemporary Egypt in a Real, Living Way
“And then comes Moon Knight to save the day. It eschews problematic Orientalist tropes and depicts the real living and breathing contemporary Egypt.”
The Arabic word for superhero is superhero. Actually, no, it’s suberhero — because there are no p’s in Arabic. Marvel’s Moon Knight (2022) was not a show that was particularly on my radar. I didn’t read the comics. I wasn’t especially curious to see what a superhero with dissociative identity disorder would be like. I felt no particular affinity for Moon Knight (or Steven Grant or Marc Spector or Jake Lockley) even if I was curious to see Oscar Isaac’s portrayal (Who doesn’t love Oscar Isaac?). I didn’t anxiously await the series premiere or worry about how they were going to portray Khonsu — a real actor or CGI?. However, and in a way that’s hard to describe, Moon Knight is the show that I’ve been waiting for all my life.
Identity is a funny old thing. It’s not static. It’s an ever-changing constellation of shifting features, and each one can always be boiled down and reduced further and further. To borrow a line from Walt Whitman, we contain multitudes. So, I’m Arab, I’m Muslim, I’m Egyptian, I’m British, I’m Turkish Cypriot. Is that it? I’m a guy, I’m straight, I’m a Londoner, I’m confused as to whether I’m Working or Middle Class. No, wait, still not finished. I’m a reader, I’m a writer, I’m a Man Utd fan. Is there more? Should I talk about my family? My friends? My cats? Should I clarify exactly what kind of Muslim I am? Where in Egypt my family is from? Where in London do I live?
For most of my life, there were large parts of my identity that never saw a positive reflection in popular media. When I was growing up, the only Arabs and Muslims I saw in film or TV were ranting terrorists (True Lies) and that was before 9/11. Afterward, things only got much, much, worse (24, I’m looking at you). Arab and Muslim good guys were few and far between. The best we could hope for was to be the “good guy” Muslim who joins the hero to fight against all the ‘bad guy” Muslims, which is to say, everyone else (The Siege and a slew of American procedurals from NCIS to Homeland).
Alternatively, we could aspire to “moral complexity.” Sayyid from Lost is a good example of this. So, not the hero, but not the villain either. Yet still tainted with an underlying otherness — dangerous and with a propensity for violence (“I’m a torshurur.” OK Sayyid, we get it!). Moreover, despite his complex portrayal of an ex-Iraqi Republican Guardsman, Naveen Andrews is neither Arab nor Muslim. So, even when we were portrayed somewhat positively, it was not by ourselves but by others.
The same thing happened a few years earlier in The Mummy, which features a heroic Bedouin character played by an Israeli actor (Oded Fehr). Even the native comedy sidekick part was played by a non-Arab, Iranian-British actor and comedian Omid Djalili who made a Hollywood career out of playing Arab scumbags (Gladiator, Spy Games ).
Skip forward more than twenty years and not much had changed. A large portion of Wonder Woman 1984 was set in Egypt, except this was an Egypt that only ever existed in media — not a simulation, a simulacra. One of the minor antagonists in the film is Emir Said Bin Abydos, dubbed the “new king of crude.” He dresses like Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia and his major aim is to restore his “ancestral homeland” in Cairo. Needless to say, none of this is authentic. In case you were wondering, no, it’s not likely that an Egyptian “Sheikh” would be selling oil to the Saudis or that a Bedouin tribal leader would or could have any claim on Cairo, whose settlement can be traced back more than 3,000 years to the Early Dynastic Period. The only positive, if you can even call it that, is that this character is played by Amr Waked, an actual Egyptian actor.
And then comes Moon Knight to save the day. It eschews problematic Orientalist tropes and depicts the real living and breathing contemporary Egypt. I admit, at first I was worried. Episode Two ends with Steven Grant (or should that be Marc Spector?) waking up in a strange apartment. The camera swoops past billowing curtains while Orientalist music swells — The Pyramids of Giza are framed against the horizon. Cut to black. Ugh, I thought to myself, not all this again. And then the intro to Ahmed Saad’s El Melouk (The Kings) drops, modern beats replacing that orientalist swill, and the distinctive timbre of Egyptian rapper 3enba (pronounced Aenaba) hits you like a gut punch.
Ana mish shayef fiykum had / Into ayal aisheen aal hak.
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Y’all are nothing special/ You’re just some kids living on the chase.
Now, this is the real Egypt, I thought. Finally, an authentic depiction and one that almost never sees the light of day in western media. The above is not a perfect translation by the way. Arabic is a diglossia which means there is a formal written form of the language and an informal spoken one. El Melouk is the sound of the Egyptian street. As it played out over the credits of Episode Two, I dared to hope.
Moon Knight’s third episode made a believer out of me. The first scene depicts Layla El-Faouly (played wonderfully by Palestinian-Egyptian actress May Calamawy) holding the distinctive green Egyptian passport in her hand. I have a passport like that, I thought to myself. Cut to the Marvel logo, but instead of that familiar sweeping orchestral theme, it’s a remix of Warda’s Betwanes Beek (“You’re Always With Me”). This is the Egypt of Mahragannat. The Egypt of protest songs and Arab Springs.
Moon Knight director Mohamed Diab (yes, an actual real Egyptian) is even confident enough to play with the stereotypes. So, yes, we get the Arab street toughs twirling their knives theatrically, only these ones are dressed in knock-off Versace. Later on, Oscar Isaac dramatically jumps out of a taxi to chase after said youths. He is inevitably pursued by the Egyptian taxi driver who understandably demands, “Ya amm, feen floosi?” (“Mate, what about my money?”). Running through a market, he knocks over a cyclist carrying a pallet of baladi bread and dodges around a three-wheeler toktok. I know what that bread tastes like. I’ve ridden in a rickshaw like that.
There’s something special about seeing yourself in the media you consume. For many people, this is normal. It’s every day. But if you are Arab or Muslim, you’re more used to scanning the craggy faces of bearded terrorists (or rapists or comic-relief scum bags) and wondering, “Is that supposed to be me? Is this how other people see us?” That is why Moon Knight with its authentic portrayal by authentic actors was such a departure and such a treat.
For me, this feeling culminated in the season finale when Layla dons the mantle of the Scarlet Scarab. In the final battle, she saves a group of civilians fleeing in a microbus (a particularly Egyptian mode of public transport). A young girl she has just saved breathlessly asks, “Enti suberhero Masriya?” Are you an Egyptian superhero?
“I am,” she confidently answers.
That’s a scene I’ve been waiting to see my entire life. It’s a scene that also completely erased many of the other criticisms I had of Moon Knight in general and its finale in particular. That is another vital aspect of representation. When you are represented, you are likely to feel a greater sense of ownership and empathy. So, will this change the way Arabs and Muslims are portrayed by the rest of the industry? Not likely. But it does give us a standard-bearer. An example to point to and say, “There. That is how good things can be. That is what we should be aiming for.”
Now, how about that Scarlet Scarab spin-off?
Interstellar Flight Magazine publishes essays on what’s new in the world of speculative genres. In the words of Ursula K. Le Guin, we need “writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies to other ways of being, and even imagine real grounds for hope.” Visit our Patreon to join our fan community on Discord. Follow us on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.
