Shivani Pandya Malhotra Rolls Out the Red Carpet for Saudi Cinema’s Close-Up

Olivia Bennett, 12/11/2025 Hollywood, meet Jeddah: the Red Sea Film Festival glitters with global ambition, fearless storytelling, and an irresistible “East meets West” allure—guided by Shivani Pandya Malhotra’s visionary touch. A daring, dazzling close-up for Saudi cinema on the world stage.

So who’s at the helm of this glitz-bedecked venture? Shivani Pandya Malhotra, no stranger to bold moves in the region’s entertainment scene, has navigated everything from red carpets to the intricate business of building a film culture from the ground up. Far from Hollywood boardrooms, it all began in Jeddah’s old Al Balad, where the scent of history mingles with the possibility of cinematic reinvention.

“When we kicked off in 2019, it was all so new—every step uncharted,” Pandya Malhotra admits. There’s a candor in her voice, a sort of measured excitement that hints at late nights and impossible deadlines masked beneath a layer of impeccable poise. She’s orchestrated not just a festival, but the supporting structure needed for something sustainable—an entire ecosystem, with its own market, education labs, and a funding arm, all assembled in record time.

It’s funny—there was this notion floating around, not so long ago, that Saudi spectators might find arthouse fare bewildering, or just a shade too abstract for their tastes. Reality, as it turns out, had other plans. Attendance soared; screenings—sometimes of titles completely outside the expected mainstream, from lavish Indian musicals to Japanese anime—sold out in a flash. Perhaps the biggest surprise wasn’t that Saudis loved cinema, but that they’d been quietly building a sophisticated palate for years, away from prying public eyes. Sometimes the best kept secrets are right under everyone’s noses.

By 2025, the mood is less “can we pull this off?” and more “how high can we set the bar this time?” Each December, the Red Sea Festival orchestrates its “East meets West” message in both curation and company. Opening night? Rowan Athale’s “Giant” set the tone—more boxer’s uppercut than safe handshake. Onscreen, a carousel of 16 fiercely selected films crashed together Asian, African, and Arab storytelling sensibilities, like some exuberant family reunion where everyone brings their best dish. Film insiders—critics, buyers, the whole parade—couldn’t help but take notice.

And about those evenings: yes, the carpets are crimson, but it isn’t all for the flashbulbs. Film obsessives and Hollywood royalty—Haifaa al-Mansour, Juliette Binoche, Adrien Brody, and Ana de Armas—have stood shoulder to shoulder with local directors and first-timers. Newsflash: the real action isn’t always in the thick of the step-and-repeat. Some of the most electric exchanges bubble up in panel rooms, over late-night souk talks, or during those unpredictable Q&As that spill out into Jeddah’s lamp-lit streets.

Yet, hand-in-hand with such rapid transformation comes skepticism, often swirling from those who haven’t crossed the Saudi threshold. Western columnists, especially in the wake of this year’s Riyadh Comedy Festival uproar, peered through their well-polished “human rights lens,” ready to categorize nuance into headline-friendly binaries. Pandya Malhotra takes such critiques with the grace of someone who’s accustomed to balancing in stilettos on ancient paving stones. “Voices from afar are often just that—from afar,” she notes. “True judgment’s reserved for those who've experienced the change firsthand.” An invitation, really, rather than a rebuttal.

What’s not up for debate: international studios and distributors now find themselves in a bit of a frenzy to get in on the act. Once cool—sometimes to the point of frostiness—the Saudi market is suddenly warm and, dare it be said, lucrative. Box-office numbers tell their own story, with global releases anchoring the charts and local productions gaining momentum at home and abroad. Seven Oscar submissions touched by the festival’s fund this year; a decade ago, that would’ve sounded about as likely as snow in Jeddah.

Still, the learning curve isn’t all movie magic. Talent abounds—many emerging out of YouTube stardom or digital content niches—but there’s still a shortage of seasoned crew and specialization. The festival’s response? Training programs that read like the guest list to an A-list afterparty: TorinoFilmLab, Film Independent, USC, alongside regional initiatives, all stacked up and humming with ambition. Much like haute couture, sparkle is grand, but it’s the skilled tailors behind the seams who ensure everything holds together under the spotlight.

For inspiration, the world needn’t look further than Korea—a nation that, in the space of a generation, transformed into an entertainment powerhouse. Saudi organizers have watched closely, studied strategies and missteps alike, but they’re clear-eyed about the pitfalls of cut-and-paste solutions. Every market’s got its own quirks, and what fits in Seoul won’t always suit the Gulf.

Interestingly, this year’s line-up reflects a very conscious shift. Women-driven projects anchor the main program. Directors like Haifaa al-Mansour and Kaouther Ben Hania are not just names on a list; their films open doors and widen perspectives, sparking conversations long overdue. The guest roster is equally grand, with jury president Sean Baker lending his sly wit, and industry forces like Giancarlo Esposito and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan amplifying the festival’s international gravitas. Competition is robust, but what truly lingers is that sense of cross-cultural pollination—stories bouncing from Marrakesh to Mumbai, all under Jeddah’s glowing December sky.

Some say the most memorable moments aren’t on the program. Maybe they happen lost among the alleyways of Al Balad, or sipping mint tea in a courtyard as local musicians strike up an impromptu set. Foodies find themselves equally spoiled; Jeddah’s culinary renaissance can steal a scene or two from the red carpet without so much as breaking a sweat. It’s that peculiar cocktail of old-world romance and present-day daring that defines the festival’s identity.

A footnote to skeptics: the old adage "nobody knows anything" never rang truer, but it’s increasingly clear that people, everywhere, are hungry for genuine stories—sometimes served with a side of rule-breaking. Film culture here runs deeper than an imported trend; it’s stitched into the fabric of daily life, constantly reinventing itself in the glare of global curiosity.

As the Red Sea International Film Festival breezes past its apparent growing pains and into its latest chapter, the world finds itself peering east, waiting to see which story Saudi cinema will tell next. Centuries-old city streets and bold new visions—if there’s a better stage for this ongoing spectacle, it’s yet to be discovered.

Saudi Arabia’s cinematic landscape used to be a blank canvas—now? Try a shimmering mosaic that reflects both its heritage and an eagerness to be seen, and heard, on the world’s stage. If film festivals were parties, the Red Sea International Film Festival would be the guest who not only arrives fashionably late but does so in a showstopping gown, garlands of anticipation in tow. And, like all parties worth mentioning, its reputation has begun to precede it.So who’s at the helm of this glitz-bedecked venture? Shivani Pandya Malhotra, no stranger to bold moves in the region’s entertainment scene, has navigated everything from red carpets to the intricate business of building a film culture from the ground up. Far from Hollywood boardrooms, it all began in Jeddah’s old Al Balad, where the scent of history mingles with the possibility of cinematic reinvention.“When we kicked off in 2019, it was all so new—every step uncharted,” Pandya Malhotra admits. There’s a candor in her voice, a sort of measured excitement that hints at late nights and impossible deadlines masked beneath a layer of impeccable poise. She’s orchestrated not just a festival, but the supporting structure needed for something sustainable—an entire ecosystem, with its own market, education labs, and a funding arm, all assembled in record time.It’s funny—there was this notion floating around, not so long ago, that Saudi spectators might find arthouse fare bewildering, or just a shade too abstract for their tastes. Reality, as it turns out, had other plans. Attendance soared; screenings—sometimes of titles completely outside the expected mainstream, from lavish Indian musicals to Japanese anime—sold out in a flash. Perhaps the biggest surprise wasn’t that Saudis loved cinema, but that they’d been quietly building a sophisticated palate for years, away from prying public eyes. Sometimes the best kept secrets are right under everyone’s noses.By 2025, the mood is less “can we pull this off?” and more “how high can we set the bar this time?” Each December, the Red Sea Festival orchestrates its “East meets West” message in both curation and company. Opening night? Rowan Athale’s “Giant” set the tone—more boxer’s uppercut than safe handshake. Onscreen, a carousel of 16 fiercely selected films crashed together Asian, African, and Arab storytelling sensibilities, like some exuberant family reunion where everyone brings their best dish. Film insiders—critics, buyers, the whole parade—couldn’t help but take notice.And about those evenings: yes, the carpets are crimson, but it isn’t all for the flashbulbs. Film obsessives and Hollywood royalty—Haifaa al-Mansour, Juliette Binoche, Adrien Brody, and Ana de Armas—have stood shoulder to shoulder with local directors and first-timers. Newsflash: the real action isn’t always in the thick of the step-and-repeat. Some of the most electric exchanges bubble up in panel rooms, over late-night souk talks, or during those unpredictable Q&As that spill out into Jeddah’s lamp-lit streets.Yet, hand-in-hand with such rapid transformation comes skepticism, often swirling from those who haven’t crossed the Saudi threshold. Western columnists, especially in the wake of this year’s Riyadh Comedy Festival uproar, peered through their well-polished “human rights lens,” ready to categorize nuance into headline-friendly binaries. Pandya Malhotra takes such critiques with the grace of someone who’s accustomed to balancing in stilettos on ancient paving stones. “Voices from afar are often just that—from afar,” she notes. “True judgment’s reserved for those who've experienced the change firsthand.” An invitation, really, rather than a rebuttal.What’s not up for debate: international studios and distributors now find themselves in a bit of a frenzy to get in on the act. Once cool—sometimes to the point of frostiness—the Saudi market is suddenly warm and, dare it be said, lucrative. Box-office numbers tell their own story, with global releases anchoring the charts and local productions gaining momentum at home and abroad. Seven Oscar submissions touched by the festival’s fund this year; a decade ago, that would’ve sounded about as likely as snow in Jeddah.Still, the learning curve isn’t all movie magic. Talent abounds—many emerging out of YouTube stardom or digital content niches—but there’s still a shortage of seasoned crew and specialization. The festival’s response? Training programs that read like the guest list to an A-list afterparty: TorinoFilmLab, Film Independent, USC, alongside regional initiatives, all stacked up and humming with ambition. Much like haute couture, sparkle is grand, but it’s the skilled tailors behind the seams who ensure everything holds together under the spotlight.For inspiration, the world needn’t look further than Korea—a nation that, in the space of a generation, transformed into an entertainment powerhouse. Saudi organizers have watched closely, studied strategies and missteps alike, but they’re clear-eyed about the pitfalls of cut-and-paste solutions. Every market’s got its own quirks, and what fits in Seoul won’t always suit the Gulf.Interestingly, this year’s line-up reflects a very conscious shift. Women-driven projects anchor the main program. Directors like Haifaa al-Mansour and Kaouther Ben Hania are not just names on a list; their films open doors and widen perspectives, sparking conversations long overdue. The guest roster is equally grand, with jury president Sean Baker lending his sly wit, and industry forces like Giancarlo Esposito and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan amplifying the festival’s international gravitas. Competition is robust, but what truly lingers is that sense of cross-cultural pollination—stories bouncing from Marrakesh to Mumbai, all under Jeddah’s glowing December sky.Some say the most memorable moments aren’t on the program. Maybe they happen lost among the alleyways of Al Balad, or sipping mint tea in a courtyard as local musicians strike up an impromptu set. Foodies find themselves equally spoiled; Jeddah’s culinary renaissance can steal a scene or two from the red carpet without so much as breaking a sweat. It’s that peculiar cocktail of old-world romance and present-day daring that defines the festival’s identity.A footnote to skeptics: the old adage "nobody knows anything" never rang truer, but it’s increasingly clear that people, everywhere, are hungry for genuine stories—sometimes served with a side of rule-breaking. Film culture here runs deeper than an imported trend; it’s stitched into the fabric of daily life, constantly reinventing itself in the glare of global curiosity.As the Red Sea International Film Festival breezes past its apparent growing pains and into its latest chapter, the world finds itself peering east, waiting to see which story Saudi cinema will tell next. Centuries-old city streets and bold new visions—if there’s a better stage for this ongoing spectacle, it’s yet to be discovered.