October of 1942 was looking to be one of the most exciting moments on the Egyptian silver screen. In the midst of its golden age, eight women – singers and actresses at the top of their game, at the head of exciting projects, and (in some cases) even receiving acclaim before they set foot in Egypt – were competing for the hearts of the Egyptian people.
Egypt had never seen anything like it. Rose Al-Yusuf magazine called it the Season of Starlets. This season, and the celebrities that defined it and would emerge from it, would shape the history of Egyptian cinema.
In the lead-up to the Season of Starlets, many divas had already established themselves, and had raised the caliber for acting and singing on the screen. They sat at the heart of the artistic world, among composers, poets, and directors, while consorts rallied around them as if they were queens of this budding kingdom of mass entertainment. At the time, musical films had become popular as Arabic music was modernized in its various forms – from new instrumentality, to foreign influences, to new vocal and performative techniques. Mohammed Abdel Wahab, the godfather of the modern Arabic song, is credited with the popularization of musical films in Egypt thanks to his 1933 film The White Rose.1 Saadallah Agah Alkala, “The Film The White Rose: In it, Abdel Wahab Established the Formula for Cinematic Songs That Would be Adopted By All.” https://www.agha-alkalaa.net/archives/13205 A sudden increased demand for musicals opened the door for a new wave of starlets who came from a background of singing and stage performance. These starlets were usually criticized for their mediocre acting skill, but they more than made up for it with other skills earned through a career of singing. Some of the (relatively) older starlets like Oum Kalthoum had begun singing before microphones had arrived in Egypt, and thus were trained to project through sheer strength, allowing them to hold notes for unusually long times, to melodize and improvise, and to hone their presence in order to maintain audience attention. Newer and younger voices, like Layla Mourad, were greatly supported by the microphone and modern recording technologies, and learned classical techniques to enunciate, emphasize certain moments, and play to the camera. These skills came to a head on the silver screen, and it was any diva’s game by the 1940s.
Some sources allege that Egypt was the third country in the world to receive motion picture technology, in 1896, immediately after Britain and France had publicized it.2 Ahmad Alhadri, The Encyclopedia of the History of Egyptian Cinema, Part One, From 1896 to the End of 1930 (2019). General Egyptian Book Organization. By 1942, the Egyptian film industry had been thriving for at least 15 years, with its first feature-length film released in 1927. While musical and artistic innovation were nothing new to Egypt, over the first decades of the twentieth century the arrival of film and audio recording and amplification technology would inspire an artistic boom called the Nahda, meaning “awakening” in Arabic. Most of the creative force behind the Nahda came from the theater scene: people who had experience in all the major performing arts and – most importantly – a reputation. Once these famed innovators embraced the new technology, it became normalized almost immediately. The advent of film technology also opened the door for connections with the outside world, as filmmakers from all over Europe came to film in Egypt for the natural landscape and oriental scenery they pursued. This would encourage Egyptians to develop their own film industry and foster their own talents. Eventually, Egyptian actors made it into foreign films, and before long they had their own film studios and were making their own films.
~
The Season of Starlets came to a head in the fall of 1942, and while this was not an official competition in any sense, it demonstrated what the people wanted from the artistic scene: more. Entertainment journalism was also developing in a way that has become all too familiar in the modern world, pitting celebrities against one another and fomenting rivalries. Oftentimes, celebrities would publicly dismiss rumors of rivalry and attest to their mutual admiration of one another, but newspapers and tabloids needed to sell, and scandal, drama, and stakes sold them. Most likely, there was really no need for the starlets to compete, as even though they all worked in the same field, the film industry was young and booming, creating space for many and more celebrities to emerge and thrive. But whatever the merits and ethics of the yellow journalism of the age, Rose Al-Yusuf’s article did succeed in identifying eight of the biggest names in Egypt’s burgeoning film industry and instructing its readers on who to watch out for. If one wishes to approach celebrity journalism as a study, it becomes important to identify the merits of certain works of journalism based on what they can deliver while noting the dangers that come along with such deliverables. The Season of Starlets is, therefore, a double-edged sword: highly useful to us from this great historical distance, but suspect in its rumor mongering and fabrication – not to mention potentially harmful to the lives of the starlets in question.
Let’s turn now to the eight starlets themselves and trace their journeys to the top of the Egyptian film industry during its golden age.
Oum Kalthoum, it may surprise many of her fans, had a lengthy career on the silver screen before she retired from it to focus on stage performance. She was initially exposed to the idea of film in the late 1920s, when she made it to Cairo for the first time. Oum Kalthoum recalls in her memoir seeing great posters and ads for upcoming films and dreaming of having her face up there.3 Ed. Muhammad Rifat, Memoirs of Oum Kalthoum. (date unknown) Al-Irfan Library Publications. In 1936, she had her first break in the film Wedad, playing the titular character. With the advent of musical film, the idea of a female lead became more normal, and some starlets would regularly compete with their equally famous male co-stars for first billing, or to have their name appear first in the credits.4 While it may seem like having one’s name appear first in the credits and “top billing” mean the same thing, they are quite different, and celebrities competed for them separately. There were many cases in which the top-paid actor was not the first to appear in the opening credits, and visa versa. Getting your name first in the credits was a matter of prestige and pride, whereas top billing was a matter of finance – though, of course, there was prestige attached to this as well. Nonetheless, there was no correlation between the two, and both were used as negotiating chips by celebrities and producers. By 1942, Oum Kalthoum had released her most popular and best remembered films, Anthem of Hope (1938) and Dinars (1940). Though she had appeared in Aida in February of 1942, the film was considered a failure relative to her previous successes, and had created a rift between her and composer Riyad Al-Sunbati, who composed the titular operetta that he had promised would elevate Oum Kalthoum above the competition. However, by then, this diva had proven her prowess and skill time and again, and was already considered a force in Arabic music. By the 1960s, she would become a globally acknowledged vocal phenomenon, with many who knew her claiming her like has yet to return.
Despite the underwhelming reception Aida received and the operetta that Oum Kalthoum likely never performed again, Oum Kalthoum insisted on continuing her experiment on the silver screen after a lengthy hiatus. She wouldn’t return to the screens until 1945, with her film Salama. By virtue of this hiatus, Oum Kalthoum technically did not compete in the Season of Starlets, but she was still considered one of the film industry’s leading ladies by Rose Al-Yusuf. After all, writing such a star off over one stumble would have been a great misjudgement. Oum Kalthoum retired from acting in 1946 after Fatima, which saved her acting legacy and allowed her a graceful exit from the industry. She would devote the remainder of her career to live performances and recording, alongside weekly appearances on Radio Egypt, in a spot she had secured at the inception of the station in 1934.5 Oum Kalthoum became a cornerstone of radio broadcasting in Egypt, where once a week on Thursdays, she had a guaranteed segment for her music alone. At a time when the music industry was booming, many singers, great and small, passed through the station and fought for what little time they could get on the air, so having a solid, weekly segment was a privilege extended to very few people.
Perhaps Oum Kalthoum’s stiffest competition during this time was Asmahan, the princess from Syria. Asmahan was born Amal Al-Atrash, a princess of the noble Atrash tribe hailing from the Druze of the Levant. Amal and her family left Syria and Lebanon in the early 1920s, when French forces were invading the region to secure their mandate of Syria, granted to them by the League of Nations in 1921. The Druze, notorious for their stubborn anti-colonial resistance, were at the forefront of the fight, and suffered greatly as a result. Alia, Amal’s mother, was able to secure safe passage and some financial and physical security in Cairo thanks to her connection with Saad Zaghloul, then Prime Minister of Egypt. Alia’s vocal talents kept her family connected to the artistic scene, and when money ran dry she sang at local festivities and celebrations to help make ends meet. In addition, Amal’s brother Farid was well on his way to becoming an oud virtuoso. In one fateful meeting at their house, musical pioneer Dawoud Hosni would be brought to tears by Amal’s voice. He offered her the name Asmahan and promised her a bright career in singing.
Asmahan signed her first record deal at the age of 15, despite stiff resistance from her eldest brother, Fouad, who adhered to the tribal conservatism of his family back in Syria.6 Sherifa Zuhur, Ashaman’s Secrets (2000) University of Texas at Austin. Asmahan would spend the rest of her life in conflict with her brother over her insistence on acting and singing, while he violently tried to suppress her.7 Sources suggest Fouad was physically and verbally abusive, and in one instance, locked Asmahan out of the house after she missed curfew, leaving her to sleep in the stairwell outside until morning. Fouad exerted significant control over Asmahan in this phase of her life, threatening her security physically, financially, and emotionally despite her continued defiance. This stopped when Asmahan moved out to her own apartment around the early 1940s, correlating with the success of her first film. Despite Fouad’s opposition, she appeared in her first film alongside her brother Farid (also his first film), in 1941’s Triumph of Youth. The film’s songs became individual hits for both Asmahan and Farid and skyrocketed them into the highest rung of Egyptian high society. While Farid was more restrained about engaging in this scene, Asmahan flung herself fully into it, appearing regularly at parties and nightclubs, returning home as the sun came up, spending absurd amounts of money on the newest fashion trends and the most exclusive hotels, and enjoying the best of what fame had to offer. Asmahan had earned it, after all: her voice was a phenomenon that was compared only to that of Oum Kalthoum. Despite their rivalry, they both publicly attested to their amicable relationship, with Asmahan calling Oum Kalthoum an inspiration, and the latter calling her a promising talent.
Asmahan returned to Egypt in March of 1944, after a stay in the Levant mired in controversy that is simply way too complicated to get into here8 Many factors contributed to Asmahan’s move to Lebanon. The primary cause was her distant cousin’s proposal to her, possibly in hopes of returning her to their home in the mountains and away from the scandalous arts scene that the traditional Druze (especially of the upper class) resented. In addition, she had brushes with British and French authorities that had asked her to assist in the war efforts of Operation Exporter. Once they reneged on their promises, Asmahan turned to the German ambassador in Turkey, but she was caught and turned back at the Syrian border. Asmahan entered a green card marriage with an Egyptian actor/director in order to gain reentry to Egypt. (trust me, I tried really hard to make it fit), and was set to appear in her second film, Passion and Revenge. Filming began in earnest, and there was great excitement, as her co-star was none other than Youssef Wahbe, himself a seasoned stage and film actor who had earned a reputation for fostering up-and-coming starlets and helping them elevate their careers. In July, filming was paused to build a large stage for a royal procession scene, and Asmahan was set to travel to Ras Al-Bar on the Mediterranean coast to unwind and distance herself from her husband, who had waved a gun at her a few days earlier and shot a police officer. On the way there, Asmahan’s car fell into a ditch, crashing into the Nile River and drowning her and her friend in the backseat, while the driver mysteriously escaped unscathed. Asmahan’s death continues to befuddle modern historians, as the starlet was wrapped up in layers of controversy and intrigue. Many people wanted her dead. Rumors even fell at the lap of Oum Kalthoum, who was accused of orchestrating her death,9 Much can be said about Asmahan’s mysterious death, but foul play is more than just rumor mongering. Asmahan had many enemies: an unhinged husband, an outraged, conservative family, and celebrity rivals, among others. Rumors about Oum Kalthoum’s involvement have never been substantiated, but have consumed mainstream attention to this day. though she vehemently denied the allegations.
Despite her hard-partying lifestyle and the complications in her life that led to several artistic hiatuses, Ashmahan’s coworkers, including Youssef Wahbe himself, attested to her consummate professionalism, never arriving late to set, welcoming instruction and direction, and prioritizing her work commitments. Asmahan was an up-and-comer in the Season of Starlets and someone who showed great promise and potential. Her vocal capabilities were on par with the greatest of the greats, and she was a stunning beauty as well, always up to date on the latest trends and styles, always outspoken, and always the life of the party. Though she had nothing lined up in the Fall of 1942 season, as she was in Syria reigniting her failed first marriage, she was certainly someone to look out for,10 Not to mention, Egypt was fascinated by the exoticism of the Levant in a time before technology made the world a much smaller place. Asmahan was considered an exotic beauty in Egypt, and her appearance was noted significantly more in journalism from Egypt than outside of it. on a seemingly unstoppable rise at the start of her career.
One exceptional celebrity who dominated the competition in the 1940s was sweet Layla Mourad. Layla was born into a Jewish Egyptian family strongly connected to the arts scene through her father, Zaki Mourad, who played a major role in the Nahda alongside Dawood Hosni and Sayid Darwish. Zaki fostered his daughter’s talent once discovered, and he paraded her before the giants of the art world until Mohammed Abdel Wahab, considered a modernizing force even in the early days of the Egyptian music industry, noticed her. Abdel Wahab gave her a starring role alongside him in his film Viva Love (1938), and the pair sang a few duets as well. Layla’s first acting gig was considered mediocre, but she had potential and Abdel Wahab’s backing.
In April of 1942, Layla starred in her fifth film, simply called Layla, or Dame of the Camellias, after the novel by Alexandre Dumas Jr. it was adapted from. This film was the one to properly put her on the map, and her dramatic performance as a seasoned songstress and courtesan who abandons her socialite lifestyle to marry for love rather than money, before being cast out by her lover and dying of illness moments before their tearful reunion, was praised for its depth and versatility. The central role asked a lot of her, and she delivered it effortlessly while performing some memorable songs as well. This was her fourth film with director Togo Mizrahi, who saw great potential in her and had decided to take her under his wing, as Abdel Wahab had. Mizrahi and Mourad’s union peaked with Layla, and though they would never work together again, their artistic collaboration was formative in the actress’s career. Layla’s career, however, only reached its fullest development when she met and married Anwar Wagdy, who was still an up-and-coming actor at the time. Layla and Anwar got married on the set of their first film together, Layla, Daughter of the Poor (1945), where their love had blossomed. Anwar would go on to create a film production studio, and would produce and co-star with Layla in her most famous and highly acclaimed films.
In 1942, Layla was just coming off her success as the Dame of the Camellias, and she was basking in the glory of its success. She had finally established herself as a bona fide actress and a force to be reckoned with. Layla would continue acting for 14 more years, reuniting on the screen with Mohammed Abdel Wahab in one of the most highly acclaimed films of the Egyptian cinema, Flirtation (1949).
Layla certainly outmaneuvered Oum Kalthoum on the screen, being the better talent by the latter’s confession, but they both knew that Oum Kalthoum was the better singer and the stronger presence and personality. While Layla was timid, she exercised great assertiveness in navigating her career, gaining independence from her father and wrestling for independence from Anwar Wagdy throughout their chaotic eight-year marriage. Layla negotiated her five-film contract with Togo Mizrahi on her own, demanding outrageous sums of money that no actress had seen at the time. Meanwhile, Oum Kalthoum had always been domineering and independent, and had enveloped herself in her infamous diva persona to keep her grip on her career. Between the two, Oum Kalthoum’s bigger personality won the day, as she had the longer career, whereas Layla’s career briefly ended after her last film in 1955. In the 1940s, they were both considered to be at the top of the game, and had an intense rivalry that started the day Layla walked into the offices of Radio Egypt to sing live on the air for the first time. Though she was nervous to see that Oum Kalthoum had entered the studio to hear her, she found herself invigorated, and once she was done, Oum Kalthoum said to her, “Bravo, Layla, that was incredible, make sure to hone this talent.”11 Hanan Hammad, Unknown Past: Layla Murad, the Jewish-Muslim Star of Egypt (2022). Stanford University Press.
Though it was said that Layla had chosen to retire after the failure of her last film, The Unknown Lover (1955), some evidence suggests instead that the industry had turned its back on her.12 There is a lot of controversy surrounding Layla Mourad’s premature retirement, and it can be dated to an obscure article from a Lebanese magazine in 1952, which accused Layla of having made donations and secret visits to the state of Israel. Though a government investigation into her assets exonerated her of this accusation, she was blacklisted in Syria, a major hub for Egyptian films in the Levant, which hurt her prospects and turned her into box office poison. This blacklist would not be lifted until 1958, when Egypt and Syria united to form the short-lived United Arab Republic. Layla’s career seems never to have recovered from this smear, despite her highly publicized conversion to Islam in 1947. She was recording at Radio Egypt well into 1956, but she stopped working there once recording expenses surpassed her gains. Despite attempts to pitch films to directors, no one seemed interested in her anymore. Layla became almost a recluse, focusing on raising her son with her third husband and attending the occasional celebrity gala or event. There is great tragedy in her rapid rise to stardom, which dissolved into radio silence in the span of two years. Despite her incredible screen presence and enchanting voice, Layla is not as well-remembered as Oum Kalthoum or Asmahan.
Before her first film, Layla had gained acclaim for her singing. One night, she was scheduled to sing at a casino, but she canceled at the last minute for an unknown reason. The patron announced to the unhappy attendees that a new singer would take the stage. The audience were dissatisfied enough to throw shoes at her, until she started to sing. Or so the story of Ragaa Abdo goes.13 Mohbi Gamil, “Ragaa Abdo: The Charmed Charmer,” https://medinaportal.com/series/ragaa_abdo/ Though Ragaa never gained the same level of acclaim that Oum Kalthoum and Layla Mourad did, she was nonetheless a force to be reckoned with by the 1940s, at the outset of her career. Like many singers of the time, she was born to a musical household, and her father, an oudist and musician himself, fostered her talent. He brought her to Dawood Hosni, who agreed she had potential. From there, Ragaa starred in her first film, Behind the Scenes (1937), alongside singer, actress, and dancer Tahiya Carioca, and got her first taste of pop culture acclaim, establishing connections with Youssef Wahbe and Farid Al-Atrash as a result. Even before this, Ragaa was slated to co-star alongside Abdel Wahab in his film The White Rose, but could not make it due to complications never made clear to the public.
Ragaa’s third film, No Love Allowed (1942), finally brought her and Abdel Wahab together on the screen, and Ragaa’s star only grew brighter as the roster of film and musical icons clamoring to work with her grew. No Love Allowed debuted in February of 1942, and by October, Ragaa was considered a worthy competitor in the Season of Starlets, another budding talent ready to contend with Oum Kalthoum and Layla Mourad, the reigning queens.
Ragaa would appear in ten more films throughout the 1940s, the last in 1950, before getting married and pausing her career to start a family. Unfortunately for her, her marriage fell apart due to her husband’s gambling addiction, and she decided to return to the screen in 1977 in the film Cabaret of Life. The movie was not as successful as her original run of films, and as a producer on it, she stood to lose the most from its underwhelming reception. Ragaa retired once again, choosing to be remembered for her glory days, an unforgettable presence alongside the greatest that Egypt had to offer. Ragaa had not yet reached her peak during the Season of Starlets, but co-starring alongside Abdel Wahab would have been a crucial moment of anyone’s career at the time, and it certainly contributed to her legacy to be able to keep up with such a talent.
The Season of Starlets was not just a testament to the up-and-comers and the promising future Egyptian entertainment had, but also to the staying power of some of the industry’s most stubborn and powerful singers, like Oum Kalthoum and Fathiya Ahmad. The pair were known to have remained good friends for over 60 years. It made sense, after all: the two ladies’ lives mirrored one another. Though Fathiya was born in Cairo, rather than in a remote village like Tumay El Zahayra, where Oum Kalthoum was born, they both shared a mentor in Abul Ola Mohammed, another pioneer of the Nahda, who had been an inspiration for Oum Kalthoum before he ever met her. Fathiya’s life took a different trajectory from stage singing, where Oum Kalthoum started and would remain. Instead, Fathiya became a theater actress, joining a troupe and traveling across Egypt and the Levant to perform, as many theater troupes did in the 1920s at the height of Egyptian theater. The traveling theater industry would decline as films were introduced to Egypt in the late 1920s, but that did not mean that plays and musicals completely vanished from the stage. Many of the theater’s pioneers and stars, however, would attempt the transition to film, where some succeeded and others floundered. Fathiya remained a theater actress primarily, but she worked on several films. In all but one of them, only her voice made an appearance.
In 1942, Fathiya Ahmad’s voice was heard on the screen for the first time when she sang in the film Aida, which starred her friend Oum Kalthoum. Her songs were dubbed over the actress Firdous Hasan. Fathiya would be heard once more in November of 1942, as Rose Al-Yusuf reported she would in the Season of Starlets article. This time, she sang the music of Farid Al-Atrash in his second film, Dreams of Youth (1942), singing for Farid’s co-star, Madiha Yusri. Fathiya appeared on screen for the first time in 1944 as the lead in the film Hanan, alongside Tahiya Carioca, Mimi Shakib, Bishara Wakim, and other notable stars of the screen. This would mark the only time she acted in film, and the reasons why she never did again are a mystery, as is most of her life.
Fathiya is the only Egyptian name on Rose Al-Yusuf’s roster of starlets that, by October of 1942, had not appeared in any films. Fathiya had achieved her fame by other means, through theater and singing. The rest of her career is difficult to trace, as records on Egyptian theater are scarce. However, she was known to have had a long career working alongside the greatest musicians in the industry. Fathiya would pass away in 1975, the same year as Oum Kalthoum. The two ladies were born and died in the same years, and they remained steadfast friends throughout their lives.
The remaining three competitors in the Season of Starlets can all be tied together through their place of birth, as they all hailed from Lebanon. Asia Daghir was the first of them to arrive in Egypt, in 1923, after the passing of her husband. Asia appeared on screen for the first time in a secondary role in what is generally considered Egypt’s first full-length film, the silent film Layla (1927, not to be confused with Layla Mourad’s Dame of the Camellias in 1942).14 Ahmad Alhadri, The Encyclopedia of the History of Egyptian Cinema, Part One, From 1896 to the End of 1930 (2019). General Egyptian Book Organization. Later that year, Asia founded Lotus Film productions, which specialized in scouting talent from the Levant and bringing them to the silver screen. As Egyptian cinema entered the sound era, Asia had struggled to connect with popular audiences, who found her Lebanese accent unappealing. Her decision to found Lotus Film was likely a product of these struggles. Asia grew to be a shrewd businesswoman, keeping Lotus Film active and thriving in the packed Egyptian film industry, competing alongside locals like Misr Studio and Condor Film. Asia was an unstoppable force by the 1940s, and in 1942 she had produced four films and starred in three of them. Very few actresses were able to keep up with her pace; the only example that comes to mind is Layla Mourad, who appeared in three films in 1947. It makes complete sense for Asia Daghir to have been a viable and dangerous competitor in the Season of Starlets. The only thing holding her back was her identity. Her dedication to cultivating and promoting Lebanese talent in the Egyptian film industry would nonetheless provide the Season of Starlets with another competitor.
Sabah, born Jeanette Feghali, had never acted in Egypt by 1942, but Asia Daghir had discovered her talent, and there was already talk of her talent spreading to Egypt. Rose Al-Yusuf had been aware of her before the Season of Starlets, as it had reported on the “Blackbird of the Valley.” This was the moniker Feghali adopted at the start of her career in Lebanon, styling herself after her birthplace, Wadi Shahrour (a Shahrour is a blackbird, so the name translates to Blackbird Valley), before adopting the stage name Sabah.
Sabah came from a deeply conservative Christian family, and once her grandfather, a priest in the Maronite church, found out she was singing, he disowned her. Sabah and her family would arrive in Egypt in 1944 to a remarkable reception organized by Asia, who was excited to adopt this budding talent. Sabah’s first film, The Heart Has One, was a Lotus Film production released in 1945. From then on, her career would grow at a phenomenal rate, and by the time she passed away in 2014, she had 82 films, 27 stage plays, and over four thousand known songs under her belt, making her one of the most accomplished Arab artists of the modern era.
Sabah’s primary rival was another Lebanese actress who had been scouted by the actor Youssef Wahbe during his time in Lebanon. Once he heard her sing, Wahbe invited her to Egypt to mentor her. Nour Alhoda would become known as the Lebanese Oum Kalthoum for her vocal capabilities, and her sweet and gentle onscreen presence harkened to Layla Mourad’s gentle and innocent demeanor. Like Sabah, Nour Alhoda’s first film was released after 1942, but the tabloids had already been made aware of a promising talent, scouted by Youssef Wahbe, whose debut on the Egyptian screen was forthcoming. Jawhara (1943) was a massive success, and it was followed shortly by Berlanti (1944), both co-starring Wahbe and Nour Alhoda. After this promising debut, Nour Alhoda would work with many giants of the industry, such as Mohammed Abdel Wahab in his last film, I’m No Angel (1946). Nour Alhoda worked steadily throughout the 1940s and into the 1950s, when she decided to continue her career in Lebanon. Unfortunately for her, she had entered into an industry she was unfamiliar with, and Lebanon had its own starlets that were competing in film, stage, and radio. Nour Alhoda was not able to keep up, and she is remembered, ironically, as one of Arab cinema’s brightest, yet forgotten stars.
~
The Season of Starlets marked a brief moment in Egyptian pop culture when the lives of eight talented women, from different religious and class backgrounds, shone together in the national firmament, later to follow their own winding destinies toward enduring fame or obscurity. But was it a true cultural moment, or mere media spectacle? Wasn’t there something sinister in the framing of the Season of Starlets as a competition, however playful the eponymous article may have been?
Perhaps the most notorious rivalry to have been bred from the Season of Starlets was the one between Asmahan and Oum Kalthoum. In 1942, when famed composer Mohammed El Qasabgi wrote a song for Oum Kalthoum, she hated it, and returned it to him with multiple revisions and notes. Rather than oblige, the story goes, Al-Qasabgi delivered the song to Asmahan, who performed it with no issue. The operatic “Ya Toyour” (“O, Birds”) became a landmark song in Asmahan’s repertoire, drawing great ire from Oum Kalthoum towards the actress and the composer.15 Sherifa Zuhur, Ashaman’s Secrets (2000) University of Texas at Austin. Oum Kalthoum and Asmahan had similarly prodigious vocal capabilities and larger-than-life public personas. Oum Kalthoum’s growing defiance in a male-dominated field had earned her the diva moniker, while Asmahan’s consummate professionalism and outrageously scandalous life kept her in the headlines throughout her career. Seemingly bound by fate, their relationship was natural food for cheap journalism. Each of them suffered individually and together, and they repeatedly made public statements attesting to their friendship. We will never know how they truly felt about one another or whether the respect they shared publicly was genuine. What we do know is that the public ate these dramatic stories up, and though the Season of Starlets gave us a glimpse into the most powerful actresses of the time, it also contributed to the highly energetic rumor mill that fed on Arab starlets’ private and public lives, pitted them against one another, and sought to profit from their tragedies and struggles. While these women seemingly ruled the world, the reality was that they would never escape the torrent of rumors born from an eager journalistic industry and a highly imaginative audience. ~
