An Artistic and Critical Reading of Aladdin
- Fahmi Farahat
- Sep 12
- 7 min read
Written by Fahmi Farahat, Dramaturgys
Introduction
The story of Aladdin, Disney’s global production, appears in its 2019 live-action version, adapted from the 1992 animated film. My simple question: has Disney repaired its image of us as Arabs in this version… or have they “messed it up” as usual? We’ll approach the film through the lens of Edward Said’s Orientalism, examining its script, casting, visuals, and music. I’ll then share my professional notes as a writer, producer, and director with more than 18 years of hands-on film experience in Los Angeles and Saudi Arabia.
To begin, let me say that “myth” is an open field for imagination… but it carries responsibility when it defines peoples to one another.
From One Thousand and One Nights to Aladdin
The cultural mix of the “Nights” is well known: a composite text gathered over centuries from India, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, and Anatolia, transformed and expanded through translation and oral transmission. The earliest mention of the “Thousand Tales” concept comes from the Persian work Hezār Afsān (“A Thousand Tales”), a collection assembled orally and in writing without a single identified author, as most scholars agree. Early Arabic sources refer to it, and over time it evolved into Alf Layla wa-Layla. This background matters because it legitimises the cultural blending on which the film itself rests.
“Aladdin” in particular is not part of the older Arab core of the “Nights.” It entered Europe with Antoine Galland’s translation (1704–1717), after being told to him by the Aleppine storyteller Hanna Diyab. Many researchers today credit Diyab with the “Aladdin” version we know. There is no documentation to show whether Diyab invented it or heard it earlier, nor how much Galland reshaped it when he inserted it into the collection.
Orientalism à la Said … and Reading the Film Through It
Edward Said defines Orientalism as a system of representation that constructs an imaginary, exotic, backward “East” in contrast to a rational, civilised “West.” It produces images that exclude people from representing themselves. This is not mere decoration but a structure of knowledge and power that creates difference and entrenches inequality.
So we must all ask: do the standards of an “Orientalist gaze” change when the dramatic product is foreign-made or locally made? Think of the Egyptian TV series Alf Layla wa Layla starring Sherihan and Omar El-Hariri (1985), or the countless Arab series about Juha or Shuayb and other folk legends—often shown in faded colours, with cartoonish characters and worlds of endless song and dance.
Back to American Aladdin …
The 1992 Version: Overt Examples of Orientalism
From the very first moment—the opening “Arabian Nights” song describing the land as one where “they cut off your ear if they don’t like your face”—we had a blunt example of imagined barbarity. In many versions distributed in Arab countries this line was removed, and under legal pressure Disney changed the lyrics in 1993.
The cartoon also mixed Indian, Arab, and Persian accents and symbols without context, creating a “foreign” eternal bazaar—a visual template long embedded in Hollywood, as Said’s work shows.
The 2019 Version: Did It Eliminate Orientalism or Soften It?
The live-action version clearly tried to tone down stereotypes. For example, Jasmine was empowered and given ambition and depth, with a new song, Speechless, that creates a narrative arc giving her political agency. This isn’t strange to our region; throughout Middle Eastern and North African history there have been prominent women leaders such as Queen Zenobia, Shajarat al-Durr, and Cleopatra, as well as religious and scholarly figures like Lady Khadijah, Fatimah al-Zahra, and Fatima al-Fihri—an Andalusian woman who in the ninth century founded the Qarawiyyin Mosque in Fez, Morocco, regarded as the world’s oldest continually operating university. The point here is to draw inspiration from leadership and vision, not to equate or compare these figures with fictional characters. In the modern era we also have inspiring Saudi women such as Princess Reema bint Bandar bin Sultan (diplomat and Saudi ambassador to Washington), Dr. Ghada Al-Mutairi (nanotechnology scientist and researcher), and Dr. Hayat Sindi (scientist and advisor), among others who embody living examples of leadership, ambition, and achievement.
Problematic lyrics in Prince Ali were also revised, for instance changing “Sunday Salaam” to “Friday Salaam,” and “He’s got slaves” to “He’s got ten thousand servants and flunkies”; a welcome move closer to our culture, evoking wealth rather than slavery and backwardness.
The live-action film also featured many actors of Arab, Middle Eastern, and South Asian descent absent from the cartoon. Yet, as we’ll see, the free blending of Silk Road cultures is a double-edged sword.
World-Building: Agrabah and Shehrabad
The film places us in a fictional city called Agrabah. Historically, the 1992 team said they started from Baghdad, then changed the name because of the Gulf War context—explaining why the city appears both Arab and Indian, populated by goods and people from old trading ports. The 2019 version kept this blend visually (architecture, costumes, dance) to create a “pre-national” world. I imagine old Jeddah’s port may have looked similarly diverse—a smart dramatic choice, if still problematic intellectually.
The name of Jasmine’s mother’s kingdom, Shehrabad, is a transparent play on “Scheherazade/Shahryar” with the Persian/Indo-Persian suffix “-abad” (“city” as in Hyderabad, Islamabad). This confirms the filmmakers’ decision to depict Jasmine as a mixed Arab/Indian figure and justifies the presence of her tiger “Rajah,” with its famous Indian name. Done carefully, such blending expands the imagination rather than diminishes identity.
Incidentally, there’s an area in Saudi Arabia called Al-Aqrabiyyah, and “Shahrabad/Shahr Abad” is a common Persian toponym, so the derivation isn’t far from our region’s geography.
Casting and Performance
A quick look at who plays whom:
Mena Massoud (Egyptian/Canadian) carried the “triple threat” of acting, singing, and dancing with confidence—a rarity in the Arab world because musical theatre is too weak to cultivate such talent.
Naomi Scott (British, mother from Gujarat/India born in Uganda) plays Jasmine, coming from a mixed Indian–Arab heritage that suits the hybrid city.
Marwan Kenzari (Dutch of Tunisian origin) gives Jafar a human dimension absent in the cartoon. Numan Acar (German of Turkish origin) enriches Hakim.
Navid Negahban (Iranian-American) plays the Sultan. The debate over “an Iranian playing an Arab Sultan” fades if we accept the film’s premise that the ruling family isn’t culturally identical to Agrabah’s populace—something historically familiar in our region (the Mamluks in Egypt and the Levant, the Turco-Mongols in India).
Prince Anders (Billy Magnussen) is a new, caricatured European character signalling that cultural blending in the film isn’t limited to “the East”—even “the West” is presented as a humorous mix of Scandinavia and Central Europe. From a social-dramatic angle, his presence helps dismantle the stereotype that Arabs, Indians, and Iranians are one undifferentiated mass.
Music and Lyrics: An Apology in Melodies
The live-action keeps the spirit of the original cartoon while making notable updates. Alan Menken, the American composer of the original score and songs, returned, and Howard Ashman’s lyric legacy remains. As noted, “barbaric” was removed from “Arabian Nights” and “slaves” from “Prince Ali” a conscious step toward contemporary linguistic sensitivity. Adding Speechless was a dramatic turning point, giving Jasmine a voice and right to rule. The new song was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul with music by Menken.
Between Orientalism and Its Reversal: Where Does Aladdin Sit?
I believe the film still affirms Orientalism when we see a vague, undefined “East”—an inheritance from the 1992 version that Disney in 2019 tried to soften rather than erase. Yet it also advances beyond Orientalism when it gives local people real faces and voices in leading and secondary roles, corrects offensive images, grants the woman political and artistic agency, and invests locally in Arab filming locations. This is progress—calculated and historic—but not revolutionary.
In Said’s words: “The problem is not imagination, but who has the power to define the East?”
The 2019 Aladdin takes a step in the right direction by involving actors from our backgrounds, but creative sovereignty still lies with an American studio blending cultures according to its understanding and market mood. Could a fantasy of the East on the scale of Game of Thrones be produced locally and succeed in creating a rich, hybrid world?
Industry Notes from a Personal Perspective
The “triple threat”—someone skilled at singing, dancing, and acting—is the shortest path to making stars. The film reminds us that investment in musical theatre is the key to developing such talent.
Hybrid world-building: the idea of Agrabah as a Silk Road city offers visual and musical diversity but needs a tighter visual charter so the blend doesn’t become identity confusion.
Cultural sensitivity management: lyric revisions are a smart response to criticism; better still is to integrate such sensitivity early in the writers’ rooms, with cultural consultants who have real authority, not just cosmetic input.
Casting choices: having Mena Massoud, Marwan Kenzari, Numan Acar, Navid Negahban … is a genuine gain on the global screen. The next step is to extend this presence beyond acting into writing, directing, producing, and on-set leadership.
Conclusion
Aladdin is an enjoyable, well-produced film, delightful for showing so many brown and “Eastern” faces on a global screen. Yes, we positively influenced Disney to update the story and partly move away from crude Orientalism. At the same time, we shouldn’t resent that “others” told our stories with higher production skill; we should learn the lesson, reclaim the right to define ourselves, and build systems to tell our own stories with equal or greater quality.
In the end, Guy Ritchie’s Aladdin is legend and fantasy: a genie from a lamp, a flying carpet, people dancing in the streets… a vast field for responsible imagination continuing what our poet-scholars began centuries ago.
References
Encyclopedia Britannica: history of One Thousand and One Nights and origin of Hezār Afsān
TIME: Hanna Diyab’s story and how “Aladdin” entered Europe
Vox: cultural politics of the new Aladdin and critique of Orientalism’s legacy
Los Angeles Times: lyric changes to “Arabian Nights” (1993)
Vanity Fair: updated lyrics, addition of “Speechless,” and the “Prince Anders” debate
Jordan Times: filming scenes in Wadi Rum with support from the Royal Film Commission of Jordan
Ajam Media Collective
AramcoWorld
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