Entertainment | Mahdi Ahmed

Posts from the ‘Entertainment’ category

MSPA FILM AWARDS 2024: A NIGHT OF TRIUMPH FOR DHIVEHI FILM INDUSTRY

On the evening of 22 August 2025, the Giyaasuddin School hall came alive with an energy the Dhivehi film community has yearned for — the MSPA Film Awards 2024. This was more than an award ceremony; it was a celebration of the unshakable belief that art matters.

The Maldives Society for Performing Arts (MSPA), officially formed on 1 February 2021, is no ordinary association. It was born out of necessity — a direct response to decades of neglect faced by Maldivian artists from institutions mandated to uplift them. Institutions that, more often than not, remember the performing arts only when a political campaign needs color, music, and a crowd.

At the heart of this movement stands Mohamed Rasheed. His journey began 44 years ago, behind the camera at TVM. From cameraman to actor to household name, Rasheed has been a tireless advocate for the arts, even at a time when many dismissed it altogether.

He never wavered. Instead, he made a stand and built a foundation for generations to come. His vision and persistence gave birth to MSPA — an association devoted to empowering the performing arts through education, industry development, and recognition.

Last night’s awards ceremony was a powerful statement of that mission in action. Embraced warmly by the Dhivehi film industry and artists nationwide, the event carried more than festivity — it carried history.

In his heartfelt speech, Rasheed did not shy away from the struggles. He recalled how some mandated bodies initially pledged support to hold this event, only to vanish when it mattered most. Their absence was telling — proving once again that when politics isn’t on the ballot, performing arts isn’t on their agenda. But Rasheed and MSPA turned that rejection into a statement of independence.

The night proved something vital: performing arts in the Maldives are alive and thriving — not because of institutions that abandoned their duty, but because of the artists who keep creating, and platforms like MSPA that refuse to bow.

The MSPA Film Awards 2024 were not just about trophies and applause. They were about recognition. About dignity. About hope. They were a powerful statement to every Maldivian artist: You matter. Your art matters. And no institution, no politics, and no neglect will ever erase that. MSPA will make sure the world sees it — today, tomorrow, and long after the banners of campaigns have faded.

Congratulations to MSPA. The fight for our arts is only just beginning, and this time, it is fueled by spirit and strength.

MARIYAM AZZA: CARRYING KAN’BULO ON HER SHOULDERS

I have already posted a piece about Mariyam Azza’s performance, but after watching the latter half of Kan’bulo with music fully laid in, I couldn’t stay without posting again. While I could easily speak volumes about what director Hussain Munavvaru and composer Ahmed Imthiyaz (Inthi) have achieved in terms of emotional tonality, I find myself compelled to pause and reflect on something else — Azza’s performance in the titular role.

As a screenwriter, you often imagine the rhythms of a scene, the dialogue beats, the unspoken pauses. You hope that when it finally reaches the actor, they will not just recite what’s written, but breathe truth into it. What Azza has accomplished here is beyond that hope — it’s craft turned into pure emotional experience.

Kan’bulo is not a role built on grand speeches. It’s a role constructed on emotional honesty. Azza moves through one devastating moment after another, not as someone acting grief, fear, or resilience, but as someone inhabiting it. Her range and depth are astonishing — she can shift from innocence to devastation to quiet resilience in the span of a breath.

What impressed me most, however, was what she accomplished in silence. A glance downward, a stillness of breath, the weight of unspoken words — these were not voids, they were meaningful silences that spoke louder than any dialogue I could have written. This is where great actors separate themselves: in the negative space, in what they choose not to say, they reveal entire universes.

Azza’s performance is one of those rare instances where the actor’s commitment elevates the screenplay. Watching her, I realized that much of the emotional truth of Kan’bulo was not in the lines I had written but in the way she decided to live between them.

This is not just a performance. It’s a revelation of what cinema can do when an actor completely trusts the material, the director, and, most importantly, her own instincts. Mariyam Azza has carried Kan’bulo on her shoulders, and she has done so with brilliance, courage, and grace.

Kan’bulo is set to release on 31 August 2025.

A STORY THAT WOULDN’T LEAVE ALONE

Some scripts you wrestle into shape. Others… they quietly unravel you while you’re trying to write them.

This one was different from the very beginning.

It arrived as a spec script from a brilliant writer/director, with a strong central idea — but instead of tracing the original lines, I found myself slowly dismantling it, piece by piece, and rebuilding it into something far more internal. Far more unsettling. And far more… me.

The journey wasn’t straightforward. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever rewritten the third act of a screenplay so many times in my life — not because it didn’t work, but because I kept uncovering deeper truths the characters were hiding. Especially the protagonist. He wasn’t just grieving. He was living in the ghost of what he lost.

What began as a psychological drama soon evolved into something deeper — a layered family story about what holds people together even when they drift apart. At its heart, this became a film about how much a family needs each other to stay afloat — even when one of them has emotionally disappeared.

This is a story about presence, absence, memory, and guilt — but not in the ways we usually tell them. Every character carries a wound. Some show it. Some bury it. Some don’t even know it’s there until it explodes into the room. The screenplay flirts with silence, leans into hallucination, and plays with emotional withholding in ways that made me both uncomfortable and strangely fulfilled.

At its core, it’s an exploration of how grief, when unprocessed, can become a kind of architecture — building rooms we live in, long after we should have left. I was fascinated by the idea of a man who hasn’t just lost his mother… but one who hasn’t let her go. That subtle difference shaped everything.

And let’s not forget the child in the story — quietly drawing her emotions in her art book. That subplot, in particular, shook me. Sometimes children say more in silence than adults ever do in monologues.

Now that it’s wrapped — and I mean really wrapped — I feel both emptied and enriched. Like I’ve said goodbye to someone I never really met… but somehow knew intimately.

This script didn’t come easy. But it came honestly. And I think that’s what makes this one special.

The title is still under wraps for now — but the screenplay is ready. And when it finds its audience, I hope it sits with them quietly… the same way it sat with me.

I can’t wait for you to meet it.

More soon.

AHMED LAIS: A VOICE THAT FOUND ITS MOMENT

Some voices don’t just sing — they remember, they ache, they belong. Ahmed Lais has one of those rare voices.

At just 27, Lais’s journey into the cinematic world is already a compelling story. Many still remember him as the bright-eyed 10-year-old who made his acting debut in one of 2009’s biggest blockbusters. His performance wasn’t just well received — it was extraordinary. He walked away with the Best Debutant (Male) and Best Child Artist awards at the 1st Maldives Film Awards, and earned a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the prestigious 6th National Film Awards — a rare feat for someone so young.

And yet, instead of riding that wave into a long-acting career, Lais chose a quieter, riskier road — music. While others may have questioned his decision to step away from the spotlight, Lais knew that his voice had its own path to follow. He submitted demos, quietly auditioned for high-profile projects, but his defining moment had yet to arrive.

Until Kan’bulo.

Director Hussain Munawwaru, always a keen observer of raw talent, heard something unmistakable in Lais’s voice — a kind of sorrowful warmth, a tender ache that couldn’t be faked. And when it came time to record the film’s most haunting romantic track, Munawwaru knew exactly who should sing it.

Lais didn’t just step up — he soared.

The result is a song that doesn’t merely accompany a scene; it inhabits it. Lais’s voice trembles with longing and loss, echoing the emotional core of Kan’bulo itself. It’s not showy. It’s not loud. It’s true. And that truth lingers long after the final note fades.

For a young man who once lit up the screen as a child, Ahmed Lais has now left a lasting impression as a vocalist. This isn’t just a song in a film — it’s a moment. And it belongs to him.

Here’s to finding your voice — and to finally being heard.

Kan’bulo is set to release on 31 August 2025.

RISHFA AND SANDY: COSTUME & MAKE-UP IN KAN’BULO

Behind every memorable character in cinema lies an invisible language — one stitched into fabric, shaded onto skin, and brushed into detail. It’s not always spoken, but it’s deeply felt. And in Kan’bulo, that language is crafted with precision and empathy by Rishfa Abdul Samad and Hussain Hazim (Sandy).

For those who watched Kamanaa, you already know the caliber of Rishfa’s work. Her costume and make-up design for that film didn’t just complement the narrative — it elevated it. She returned for Kan’bulo, not just with her signature subtlety, but with an evolved sensibility for the film’s rawer emotional terrain.

Joining her this time is Sandy — Hussain Hazim — whose meticulous attention to detail and bold visual instincts brought a vital layer of texture to the world of Kan’bulo. Where Rishfa’s approach grounds characters in emotional realism, Sandy’s contribution adds grit and authenticity to their external realities. Together, they’ve created a lookbook of broken innocence, inner scars, and quiet resilience — all without a word being spoken.

Make-up and costume are often the most overlooked departments when discussing the emotional impact of a scene. But in a story like Kan’bulo, where the transformation of a character is internal as much as it is external, Rishfa and Sandy’s work becomes more than aesthetic — it becomes storytelling. The bruises that don’t just mark pain but history. The wardrobe that doesn’t just clothe, but constricts or frees. Every choice they made helped define who these characters are, even before the first line of dialogue is spoken.

Their collaboration is not only visually cohesive but narratively sensitive. It speaks volumes in silence. And as a screenwriter, I can’t express how powerful it is to see your characters come to life not just in performance, but in appearance — in posture, in presence, in how they wear their world on their skin.

In Kan’bulo, the pain is visible, the transformation is visual, and thanks to Rishfa and Sandy, the truth is in the details.

Kan’bulo is set to be released on 31 August 2025.

YASHFA: ADAPTING HER AWARD-WINNING STORY INTO KAN’BULO

In 2009, a quiet storm passed through Maldivian literature. It came in the form of a long story titled Yuktha, penned with grace and conviction by Yashfa Abdul Qani. The piece went on to win first place at the National Long Story Competition — and rightfully so. It wasn’t just a work of fiction; it was a reflection of buried truths, crafted with emotional intelligence and a deep understanding of the unspoken.

When I was handed this story to adapt, I knew immediately that it demanded more than a simple retelling. It asked for care. It asked for bravery. And it asked for honesty.

Adapting a long story into a screenplay is never just about converting prose into scenes. It’s about translation — not of language, but of essence. What works powerfully on the page, nestled between narration and inner monologue, must now live and breathe through images, dialogue, silences, and performance. You’re not just recreating the story — you’re restructuring it so it thrives in a visual and temporal medium.

And with Kan’bulo, the weight of that responsibility was greater than usual. The story had resonance. It had urgency. But most of all, it had a protagonist who demanded her truth be told — not sensationalized, not softened — but told with authenticity.

I approached the adaptation process not as someone trying to rework a text, but as someone trying to protect it. To preserve the emotional heartbeat of Yashfa’s writing while allowing the film version to have its own rhythm. That meant hard choices — what to keep, what to let go, what to reimagine, and how to give characters a voice when the page had once carried their silence.

It was a delicate balance of loyalty and liberty. And I hope I’ve honored the spirit of what Yashfa created.

As Kan’bulo prepares to meet its audience, I want to take a moment to express my respect and gratitude to Yashfa Abdul Qani. Without her vision, there would be no story to adapt. Her courage in telling this story laid the foundation for everything that followed. I was just the one invited to build on it.

Kan’bulo is set to be released on 31 August 2025.

KAN’BULO TRAILER CROSSES 1 MILLION VIEWS ON INSTAGRAM IN 15 HOURS!

We just made history.

In just 15 hours, the official trailer of Kan’bulo has reached 1 million views on Instagram — an unprecedented feat for a Maldivian film.

Let that sink in. One million eyes. One million hearts. One million souls who paused, watched, and felt something. That’s not just a number — that’s a wave of belief in our team.

As the screenwriter, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude — to the audience who embraced the trailer with such passion, and to the incredible team behind Kan’bulo who poured their hearts into every beat, every frame, every emotion. From the cast who embodied pain and resilience, to the director, cinematographer, editor, composer, sound designer — everyone showed up with fire.

This moment belongs to all of you. The ones who shared it, commented on it, talked about it, and believed in it. Thank you for proving that Maldivian stories told with honesty and care can connect on this scale.

We see you. We feel your love. And we carry it with us as we move forward.

From our hearts to yours — thank you.

Kan’bulo is set to be released on 31 August 2025

KAN’BULO TRAILER HITS 500K+ VIEWS IN UNDER 7 HOURS

What just happened is something I don’t think any of us expected—at least not this soon.

In less than 7 hours after its release, the official trailer of Kan’bulo has surpassed 500,000 views on Instagram. Let that sink in for a moment. Half a million views. On a Maldivian film trailer.

This isn’t just a number. It’s a milestone. A cultural shift. A reminder that when you tell stories with honesty, when you pour your soul into the writing, the direction, the performances, the design, the edit, the sound, the score—people feel it. And they show up for it.

On behalf of our entire Kan’bulo team, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to every single person who watched, shared, commented, cried, and connected. You’ve amplified our voices beyond anything we imagined. You’ve reminded us why we do what we do.

To be part of this movement—to tell stories that matter, to collaborate with artists who care fiercely about the craft, to witness this kind of response—it’s humbling, and deeply moving.

From the bottom of my heart: thank you. Let’s keep the conversation going.

Kan’bulo is set to be released on 31 August 2025

KAN’BULO: A TRAILER THAT LEAVES NO ROOM FOR ESCAPE

There’s a kind of silence in cinema that isn’t empty. It lingers. It presses down. It forces the audience to confront things they would rather not. With the release of the official trailer for Kan’bulo, that silence now belongs to us.

Watching this trailer unfold, even though I know the story inside out, I found myself holding my breath — not because of what it shows, but because of what it dares to suggest. This is not a film that chases spectacle. It chases truth. And it doesn’t ask for permission.

What strikes me most from a technical and structural perspective is how deliberately the trailer mirrors the film’s emotional architecture. It begins with tenderness, shifts into unease, and descends — not with melodrama, but with precision — into something far more suffocating. Director Hussain Munawwaru’s vision is clear: this is a story about the quiet destruction that happens behind closed doors, the kind of suffering that society often overlooks until it’s too late. The trailer reflects that ethos with restraint, leaving just enough unsaid to force the audience into those uncomfortable gaps.

From the trailer alone, the performances speak volumes, even in fragments. Mariyam Azza, in the titular role of Kan’bulo, carries a haunting vulnerability that’s impossible to look away from. In just a few glimpses, her embodiment of pain, fear, and defiance cuts deep. Sheela Najeeb’s restrained but devastating presence adds a maternal weight that lingers. Ismail Rasheed, with his trademark intensity, dominates his scenes with quiet menace and authority. Ahmed Easa, Wasia Mohamed, Shakeela, and Ahmed Nimal each bring a lived-in truth to their characters — even from these brief moments, you sense the years of pain, resilience, and buried secrets these roles demand. These are not performances built on spectacle; they are performances built on humanity, on raw emotional honesty, and on the quiet devastation of survival.

From a screenwriting standpoint, seeing this trailer gives me a sense of quiet satisfaction — it captures the essence of why I wrote it. Kan’bulo was never about shock value. It was about honesty. About confronting a truth that refuses to stay silent any longer.

And then there’s that ending — the harrowing wail of Kan’bulo’s newborn, piercing through the silence, rising with unbearable weight until it amplifies and collapses into the film’s haunting title. It’s a sound that stays with you, a cry that speaks not only for the newborn but for every unspeakable pain that has been buried beneath silence. The final post-title shot, with Kan’bulo weeping, her voice breaking as she cries out to her father in the background, “I would never sin,” leaves no doubt about the depths this story is prepared to explore. It’s a moment not designed for shock, but for reflection — and it lands with devastating clarity.

I believe this trailer has done exactly what it needed to do. It doesn’t offer easy answers. It invites questions. And it demands we listen — even when it’s uncomfortable. Because some stories don’t shout to be heard. Some stories whisper… and leave us haunted.

Kan’bulo is set to release on 31 August 2025

MARIYAM AZZA: BECOMING KAN’BULO

As a screenwriter, you live inside your characters long before anyone else does. You know their breath, their silences, their breaking points. You hear their words before they’re spoken — and sometimes, you wonder if any actor can truly become what you’ve imagined.

But then—fresh off two back-to-back blockbusters—superstar Mariyam Azza steps into the skin of Kan’bulo. The rest, as they say, is history.

Having just watched a rough cut of Kan’bulo, I’m still struggling to find words that match what I witnessed. Azza doesn’t just play Kan’bulo — she becomes her. Frame after frame, she dissolves into this underage girl confronting unthinkable suffering far beyond her years. It’s not just a performance — it’s a haunting possession of pain, fear, shame, defiance, and above all… truth.

From the first page of the script, I knew this character demanded an actor who could navigate delicate psychological territory with absolute control. There were moments with no dialogue, only silence and stillness — and Azza delivered them with quiet ferocity. Every micro-expression — a quiver in the jaw, a distant gaze, the way her shoulders drop when no one’s looking — landed exactly where I wrote it… and often, better than I wrote it.

She doesn’t overplay trauma. She doesn’t seek your sympathy. Instead, she does what great actors do — she makes you feel everything without asking for your permission.

What Azza achieves in Kan’bulo is an evolution from her phenomenal performance in Kamanaa. That film showed her range. Kan’bulo reveals her depth. She dives into raw emotional states and emerges with something painfully beautiful.

There’s a heartbreaking scene deep in the third act — one of the emotional pivots of the entire film — where the past comes crashing into the present, forcing Kan’bulo to confront something she had long buried. It’s a moment of reckoning, of raw realization, and watching Azza deliver it left me breathless. The way she processes that tidal wave of guilt, confusion, and heartbreak — without a single false note — was nothing short of extraordinary. A single glance, a stifled breath, the trembling silence between her words… she made that scene hurt. And in doing so, she elevated a page I had wrestled with for weeks into something that now feels unforgettable.

It’s rare for a screenwriter to feel seen — word for word, emotion for emotion. But Mariyam Azza saw Kan’bulo. And through her, I believe the world will too.

Kan’bulo is set to be released on 31 August 2025.