
The many lives of Beirut’s Cinema Metropolis
Text Amelia Dhuga
It is nearing nightfall in the trendy Mar Mikhael neighbourhood of Beirut. A tangerine haze is buoying off new high-rise apartment blocks and the stark metal facade of overworked cranes. On the horizon, a traffic laden highway guards the coastline. As I make a beeline towards the sea, I catch sight of a sprawling metal complex.
Home to Cinema Metropolis, the futuristic site resembles a warehouse of sorts; corrugated metal panels and harsh concrete define the exterior. Despite its industrial appearance, the cinema is teeming with energy.
Groups of friends and couples are milling outside in the garden area of Metropolis. Clutching boxes of popcorn and cups of soda, their conversations dart between trivial small talk and more serious matters – the unusually warm weather this January, the film programme for the week, the upcoming end of the ceasefire.

The opening of the cinema has certainly come at a difficult time in Lebanon’s history. Founder and Director of Metropolis, Hania Mroue, explains that Israel’s war on Gaza and Lebanon significantly delayed their opening.
“We started building the cinema in 2023,” Mroue explains. “First the war in Ukraine delayed our operations because some European entities had to withdraw their promises for funding. The price of raw materials increased too, which affected our budget as well.”

Further hurdles came as Israel escalated its attack on Gaza; limited accessibility to the Red Sea increased the cost of transportation for raw materials and delays were common. Despite setbacks, the team continued building and planned an opening event for the 12th October 2024.
“We then had to postpone because of the war on Lebanon, but we still carried on working and coming to the site in Beirut everyday” Mroue tells me. “We wanted to be ready to welcome visitors the moment a ceasefire was announced. That way we could give the city something to celebrate – a place of warmth, community and culture.”

The Metropolis team managed to achieve their aim, with the cinema officially opening its doors on the 21st December 2024. For the local population, the event was an emotional moment. “It had been a very dark time, we all felt extremely isolated and alone…,” Mroue trails off. “It was beautiful to see people come back together.”
For many in the city, the opening of the cinema also brought back memories of times gone by. Originally established in 2006, the first iteration of Cinema Metropolis was held in a modest venue along Hamra Street. Consisting of just a screen, projector, and 100 seats, the spot soon became too small for its growing audience.

“We were the first in the city to really showcase local Arab talent, and that struck a chord with locals,” Mroue explains.
After two years in Hamra, the cinema moved to a lager space with two screening rooms boasting 275 seats each. The team stayed there for twelve years before the building was sold in January 2020 and they had to leave the premises.
The closure was a blow for many creatives in the city. Josef Khallouf, a Lebanese filmmaker, tells me that Metropolis played a huge role in him deciding to choose a career path in the industry.
“I initially started off working in advertising marketing,” Khallouf explains. “I would visit Metropolis with my friends on the weekends or in the evenings. I had been used to seeing big international blockbusters in the cinema, so this was the first I saw Lebanese and Arab made films.”
“It introduced me to another side of the industry,” the filmmaker tells me. “I felt inspired – like anything was possible.”

The creative went on to produce several short films, including “Beit Byout”, which was selected to Cyprus International Film Festival – CYIFF 2009, “Conflict 1949 – 1979”, which was selected at Document International Human Rights Documentary Film Festival – Glasgow 2014, and “VNV: An Essay on Existentialism”, which was chosen for the Lebanese Film Festival – LFF 2018.
“When they shut down, it felt like we had lost our home,” Khallouf recalls.
Unfortunately, the situation in Lebanon made it difficult for the team to immediately relocate. “We were evicted at a moment when everything was changing in the country – the revolution, the economic crisis, Covid, the port blast,” Mroue lists the series of events that occurred In Lebanon during that period. “Despite everything, we still wanted to continue and reopen again one day.”
“The news came as a huge relief,” Khallouf says. “The organisation has become much more than a cinema and it is important that the Lebanese youth have access to it.”
The activities Khallouf is referring to include training sessions and workshops to help creatives in the industry. In collaboration with Locarno Film Festival, Metropolis hosts “Beirut – Locarno Industry Academy”, a programme whereby participants from the Arab world meet and learn from international guest-speakers.

“Talents Beirut’, which hosted its ninth addition in 2023, is also organised by Cinema Metropolis Association in association with the Goethe-Institute. The programme has hosted more than 100 talents from the Arab World, allowing them to meet with established film professionals and reinforcing their artistic skills.
In order to help further preserve Lebanese film heritage, the newest iteration of Metropolis has a library area boasting an impressive archive of regional films and vintage posters. The team is working on digitising the films, uploading them onto accessible hard drives where students, programmers, and researchers can easily access them.
Improving accessibility to the industry is another key aim for the cinema. “It is important for us to bring film to younger audiences and under privileged groups,” Mroue explains. “Our Young Audience Programme organises regular screenings for children and families. We also work with schools across Lebanon to help improve film literacy.”
As part of the programme, children are invited to watch a film before working on an extended project focussed on that film. The Metropolis Association provides the teachers with training and helps to organise the screenings.”

Through these initiatives, the association hopes to keep the beauty of cinema alive in the country. “We want to inspire another generation of Lebanese cinema enthusiasts and industry leaders,” Mroue exclaims proudly.
Nervously, I ask the founder if she ever worries about future generations attending the cinema, mentioning the rise of Netflix and other streaming platforms. Raising her eyebrows, Mroue gently shakes her head.
“Some people think that the popularity of cinema might be declining in society,” Mroue says sceptically. “I disagree. You can watch something on a phone or computer, but you cannot have an experience.”
“At the cinema, you share emotions with strangers, talk to film makers, enter discussions and debate,” Mroue says, more animated now. “The cinema is a place for people to meet – and occasionally watch a film.”

Later on, as I enter the ticket office, the sound of visitors talking amongst themselves reaches an animated crescendo around me. Downstairs, I catch site of a group of friends pouring over old film books and vintage posters. Even in the screening room, I make out pairs of heads glued together in the dark, whispering seamlessly to each other about the film being screened. It certainly seems like Lebanon’s Cinema Metropolis is bringing people together once again.