Hollywoodgate

The movie "Hollywoodgate" is a German-American documentary that offers rare insight into the Taliban's operations following the U. S. withdrawal from Afghanistan. It was shot at a former U. S. base in Kabul, known as Hollywood Gate I, where Taliban commanders took control of and repurposed $7 billion worth of abandoned American military equipment.

The director is restricted from filming anything related to the Afghan population or the country's situation. A soldier constantly shadowed him and could only capture what was permitted. As a result, the documentary centers on what the Americans left behind, the persecution of those opposed to the regime, and the daily life at the military base. Still, the film exposes the absurdity of a regime driven by obsessive religious beliefs, with clueless men in power, open prejudice against women, and, above all, a disturbing mentality where killing is seen as little more than a form of entertainment.

As the director reflects in the movie, he's unable to show the daily suffering of the Afghan people, but instead highlights "...the obscene power of those who worship war and the lasting pain it inflicts on generations..."

"Hollywoodgate" is a documentary that captures the Taliban's shift from insurgent force to governing regime, while peeling back the complex layers of propaganda, power, and fragility underpinning that transformation. Directed by Ibrahim Nash'at, the film is as unsettling as it is fascinating, placing us in the middle of a historic moment with rare access and a narrative that deeply unsettles.

From the outset, there's a palpable tension in how Nash'at positions himself within the space he's documenting. The former American base, known as Hollywood Gate, serves as a microcosm of the Taliban's new order. It quickly becomes clear that the camera isn't just a recording tool-it's part of the power dynamics. Taliban members often seem to perform for the camera, fully aware of the impact of their words and actions. This is especially evident in Mawlawi Mansour, the Commander of the Air Force, whose commanding presence borders on theatrical. Mansour is portrayed as both ambitious and cynical, determined to refurbish the military equipment left behind by the Americans, turning decommissioned helicopters into symbols of renewed strength.

The film skillfully balances the banality of daily life on the base with moments of profound symbolic weight. Soldiers goofing around with forgotten cans of Red Bull from the freezer transition into scenes of war machines being painstakingly restored-a shift that encapsulates the transformation from chaos to control, at least on the surface. This oscillation between the mundane and the apocalyptic amplifies the viewer's discomfort, constantly reminding us that what appears to be routine is, in fact, preparation for something far bigger-and far more dangerous.

Nash'at's choice to document not only the military rebuilding but also the social and cultural dynamics of the new regime is a quiet stroke of brilliance. One of the most striking moments shows Taliban members discussing changes to women's rights laws. As they watch the news, the contrast between their words and the devastating reality of these policies is glaring. The cruelty embedded in their indifference hits just as hard as any scene of destruction or armed conflict.

The documentary also stands out for its narrative restraint-for what it chooses to show or leave out. Over 92 minutes, Nash'at offers a concise yet sweeping view of a constantly shifting landscape. But he resists the temptation to fill in every gap, leaving viewers with unease and unanswered questions. This isn't a flaw-it's a strength, reinforcing the idea that Afghanistan's story under the Taliban is far from a conclusion.

The film's climax is a chilling reminder of the extent of this power transition. In a nearly choreographed display of strength, helicopters and weapons left behind by the Americans are showcased as trophies of symbolic victory. It's a moment of calculated terror, designed not only to intimidate external enemies but to solidify internal control. Nash'at doesn't need to underline these scenes with heavy commentary; the starkness of the images speaks volumes.

Yet, "Hollywoodgate" never loses sight of the human context. While the camera often focuses on symbols of power-the leaders, the weapons, the helicopters-there's an undercurrent of a much larger tragedy. The film hints, without spelling it out, at the long-term consequences for Afghanistan's population, particularly women and children, who continue to face a worsening humanitarian crisis compounded by hunger and oppression.

"Hollywoodgate" is a remarkable piece of journalism but also a film that challenges its audience to grapple with the nuances of what it reveals. It's both a window into the present and a warning about the future, a reminder that what's being rebuilt at Hollywood Gate may have global implications. The discomfort the film provokes comes not only from what it shows but from what it deliberately leaves for the viewer to interpret. This ambiguity is its greatest strength. In the end, Nash'at delivers a work that's as much a document as it is a warning-a reflection of a moment where chaos continues to shape the fate of a nation.

This is sobering and sad. How do people like the Taliban, most who have never in their lives known peace, adapt their gerontocratic, patriarchal system based on an extreme interpretation of Shar'ia Law to the complex needs of running a country?

They evidently tried, and failed. The country seems very much on a war footing, even in peace.

Hollywood gate doesn't show one shot of a woman. To the Taliban, of course, why should it? To the Taliban, A woman is a human 'cow' that you buy and raises your kids. The more educated these women are, the more they protest and demand rights, so you cut that out fast!

There's only one sentence if you're guilty of something - death. The Mafia are kinder. The IRA were kinder. Islam has many forms, and this one is nasty. It's a shame to see a modern country dragged back to the Dark ages in so many ways. Hollywood gate lets you see all all that. That's the depressing power of this.

You start out wondering why the Taliban gave access to Ibrahim Nash'at to film them - and indeed quite a few of those filmed are pretty hostile and complain about his presence. It becomes clear as the film progresses: they don't want to be liked but they do want to be feared, and as Nash'at's access is closely monitored, they do control the narrative to a large extent. Nash'at explained at the end that he wanted to interview ordinary Afghans but was forbidden from doing so.

At the start, there are some moments where the Taliban seem bumbling and incompetent. They can't believe their luck when they find the Americans have left behind huge amounts of military equipment, including helicopters and planes as well as ammunition, plus medical supplies and a fully-kitted-out gym. Initially apprehensive, as they explore the facility, they realise this is an incredible treasure trove. The problem is lack of experts who can fix the planes (which were disabled by the Americans) or fly them. But some rather terrified-looking pilots who had deserted are dug out and reprieved on condition they fly the aircraft, and the planes are mended so that they can take part in a huge military parade in front of visiting dignitaries at the end of the film.

There are disturbing scenes when squads set off at night to capture dissidents and extract information from them: we don't see any scenes of torture and killing, but it's clear they occurred.

I found the more mundane scenes, when an officer had meals with his men, or planted trees on the facility, notable for the tense interactions between the Taliban, even when alone. I realised that a characteristic of authoritarians is that they don't know how to have fun - they need to be feared and that means they must be taken seriously. This may explain why they don't want anyone else to have fun.

Also disturbing were rare scences of children: there was a brief shot of little girls dancing and laughing, but the other children in shot were little boys who were clearly being trained to grow into replicas of the war-mongering men they were with.

Women didn't really feature except as shrouded figures begging in the streets. There was a scene where the men discuss whether women should be veiled: one of the men gives what he clearly regards as a cast-iron argument in favour: if you had two chocolates and one was wrapped and the other dropped in the dirt, which would you eat? The idea that the chocolate might have a view on the matter would clearly be beyond his comprehension.

The professional critics leave me uninformed: the documentary is courageously made and thoughtfully edited, but what does it tell us? It is likely that the Taliban's aim was propaganda but the most striking thing about this surprisingly amiable film is banality. If this was all that there was to the regime, then their victory in Afghanistan would be inexplicable and future tenuous. Ibrahim Nash'at voiceovers his experience of the suffering of the Afghan people and horrors of war (enabled at scale only by foreign machinery) but he has been severely constrained in what he can actually reveal. Some insight into the Afghan purpose is better than none and Nash'at's work is important. I hope he will thrive and be allowed more freedom and access in the future.