A Saudi-Egyptian rivalry? What the 2025 Ramadan season taught us about the Arab TV landscape

The 2025 Ramadan TV season continues to dominate cultural discourse in the Arab World even after the end of the Muslim holy month, which doubles as the premiere season for blockbuster shows in the region.

An unusual mix of grit and escapism has given Arabs a respite from a dire political climate blighted by Gaza, ever-looming economic recession and Trump 2.0’s shenanigans. 

The sometimes conflated and sometimes conflicting relationship between Egypt and Saudi Arabia informed the conversation this year.

Egypt had an atypically solid roster and Saudi Arabia benefitted from ubiquitousness and supremacy of its channels. 

The rise of Syrian drama from the ashes of the Assad regime could indicate a potential renewal of the rivalry between Syria and Egypt, but the stagnancy and stuttering condition of the rest of the region’s TV indicates that Egypt will remain the unrivalled king of Ramadan TV for the time being. 

It’s Saudi Arabia, however, and not Egypt that now shapes the Arab TV landscape, a volatile landscape oscillating between the pull of commerce and the insatiable determination of Arab autocrats in controlling the narratives accessible to their people. 

Egypt continues to possess the brightest talents in the region, but it’s the Saudi money that will dictate what Arabs watch on their TV screens in the near future. 

Sisi picks a battle with Saudi Arabia he can’t win

A characteristically ominous statement by Egypt’s President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi during an iftar dinner regarding Egyptian TV drama sent shockwaves through the entertainment industry. 

Sisi has made a habit of publicly commenting on the role of TV drama in instilling a spirit of patriotism in the hearts of the nation and promoting a new Egypt, or, rather, his new vision of Egypt. 

The policies governing Egypt’s entertainment industry usually change after such speeches. 

After taking power in 2013, lavish TV productions endorsing the military and the police bombarded the airwaves. 

On screen, the nation’s social reality has been reduced to nothing but vacuous stories of gated suburban life. 

The consolidation of numerous media channels, TV, print and web, gave birth to the United Media Services (UMS), the giant government-owned conglomerate that now controls every facet of news and storytelling in the country. 

Overspending and lack of strategy coupled with the country’s post-Covid economic collapse led to the partial fall of UMS. 

Meanwhile, Mohammed bin Salman’s Saudi government has ventured to acquire MBC Group, soon to become the region’s most imposing and influential media empire.

Contrary to expectations, MBC has given Egyptian drama-makers more creative freedom than its Egyptian counterpart. 

The ideology behind the TV dramas, if not the news, it produces, broadcasts and streams remains vague; the progressive and occasionally critical politics of its shows have caught critics by surprise.

Sisi, not for the first time, criticised the image some of the shows projected of Egypt as “frivolous work” that does not build nations.

Government-backed critics immediately pointed out that the shows in reference, including the hugely popular, lowbrow melodramas of Mohammed Samy, were the product of “foreign channels”.

News of Egyptian companies pulling out their advertisements from MBC subsequently began to circulate and Samy announced his retirement shortly after Sisi’s statements. 

MBC hit back. Amr Adeeb, the popular Egyptian talk show host and the media giant’s unofficial spokesperson, threatened that Riyadh would withdraw its vast investments from Egyptian entertainment.

He also said that the Saudis could potentially ban Egyptian films from their highly lucrative domestic market if the Egyptian  government’s attacks did not stop. 

MBC defiantly continued to promote Samy’s work in spite of the critical backlash.

Sisi’s allies reacted by toning down their quixotic reproval and, not for the first time, UMS was reminded that Egyptian entertainment can no longer survive without Saudi money. 

In an excellent report by Mada Masr, government broadcast employees described how the nation’s media policies are shaped in the portentous hours when the president watches TV.

 Sisi’s capricious impulses, moral conservatism and lingering desire to mould the country’s media in his image has cost UMS, which remains in grave debt. 

MBC and Saudi Arabia have become Egypt’s primary media patron. UMS is too fragile, too chaotic and too broken to operate independently. 

A resurrection of nationalistic shows like El Ekhteyar (The Choice) and its ilk could be in the cards after Sisi’s speech, but there’s little to nothing UMS can do in the foreseeable future to counter MBC’s supremacy.  

Loose censorship results in a memorable season for Egyptian drama

With money drying up to help realise Sisi’s media dream, Egyptian creators were set free to explore less flattering, more complex facets of Egyptian reality. 

The result was one of the strongest Ramadan seasons in recent memory: a season distinguished by diversity, gripping storytelling and an unusually heightened degree of social engagement. 

Welad El Shams (The Sons of the Sun) shed a light the destitute conditions of orphanages; 80 Bako (80K) delved into the little-known world of working-class hairdressers; Albi we Moftaho (My Heart and its Key) offered a snapshot of the dying middle class; and Lam Shamseya, the most discussed series of the year, tackled the taboo subject of paedophilia. 

Yes, these titles were bogged down by various shortcomings; the smothering, shrieking melodrama in Sons of the Sun; patchy, animated performances in 80K and an unfocused middle section in My Heart and its Key.

But there was plenty of passion on display and a palpable desire to grant Egyptians the social mirror they have long called for.  

Egyptian TV is in a perpetual state of evolution, coloured by both the country’s cultural heritage and the tangible influence of American TV.

While still far from excellent, this year’s robust lineup pointed to a new encouraging direction. 

Irreverence triumphs over social consciousness

The aforementioned Lam Shamseya was the talk of Egypt in the second half of Ramadan: a searing, affecting and occasionally chilling dramatisation of a mother grappling with the discovery that her 10-year-old stepson has been molested by a relative.

It arrived on the heels of various and widely known real-life accounts of paedophilia in recent years.

The show’s urgency is irrefutable; its boldness is laudable and its earnestness is honourable. Yet it’s difficult to shake off its distracting upper-middle-class gaze. 

Director Karim el-Shenawy and writer Mariam Naoum ground their story in a more accommodating, more cordial reality than that of 80k or Sons of the Sun. 

The series often deviates from the central scorching drama to offer a tutorial on how to deal with the abuse of children – therapy, support groups and the empowerment to speak out.

It’s all well-intentioned, but its didacticism can be overbearing and its reluctance to acknowledge the class privilege of its characters is also frustrating. 

Pointless and overly neat attempts to psychoanalyse the abuser further expose the limitations of its visions. 

The use of the patriotic ballad Teslame ya Masr (May You be Safe, Egypt) for its artificially happy ending pushed a sceptical public to question the politics of its makers.  

Less reverent but equally edgy was Ekhwaty (My Sisters), a deliciously acerbic black comedy that chronicles the trials and tribulations of a group of lower-middle-class sisters scrambling to bury the good-for-nothing husband of the youngest sibling after he is mysteriously killed. 

Taking a leaf out of the White Lotus playbook in both its darkly comic tone and the employment of the dead husband’s corpse, My Sisters nonetheless still succeeds in offering one fresh dish: a class-conscious feminist tale of sisterhood unbothered by retributivism. 

Its morality is more complex than the more serious-minded Lam Shamseya; its worldview is persuasive and engrossingly grey to the core. 

Boasting a star-studded cast fronted by Nelly Karim and Ruby and with a meticulous eye for capturing the decaying world of the lower middle class, My Sisters is certainly not the headline-grabber that Lam Shamseya strives to be. It, however, brilliantly does what it set out to do in an effortless fashion brimming with confidence. 

Lam Shamseya could be the most socially worthwhile series of the season, but for this writer, My Sisters is the standout Arab TV show of the year thus far. 

A new age for Syrian TV 

Contrary to assumptions, Syrian TV drama did not die in the years succeeding the 2011 revolution. 

While well past its golden age, the popularity of Syrian TV across the region ensured its survival in the last 14 years with the help of MBC, Lebanese co-productions and Syrian state TV. 

This year marks the first Ramadan season after the fall of Bashar al-Assad, and there’s a discernible vitality and a sense of renewal that can be traced in the 15 series shown in Ramadan. 

The precariousness of idealism in a community ruled by autocracy is underlined in El Batal, acclaimed director Laith Hijo’s first Syrian drama since 2019. 

A tug of war erupts between the ruling family of the Damascus tobacco industry and a new emergent rival in Taht al-Aard: Moussem Haar (Underground: A Hot Season). 

The forgotten account of the ill-fated odyssey to create the first Syrian film in 1928 is charted in Layali Roxi (Roxi Nights). 

Two Syrian works stood out from the bunch: The first is Taht Sabae Ard (Underneath the Seventh Earth), a nail-biting thriller centred on a shady police officer (an exceptional Taim Hasan) who finds himself caught in a web of corruption when his brothers dabble with the business of counterfeit currency.

The second is Nasamat Ayloul (September Breeze), a charming, wistful comedy surveying the quotidian lives of a tranquil village. 

The ousting of Assad will undoubtedly cause a seismic shift in Syrian TV drama. 

What the future holds for pro-Assad stars like Roxi Night’s Sulaf Fawakherji, who fled to Egypt in December, remains unknown.

However, the return of dissident figures such Underground star Maxim Khalil to Syria could mark a new age of free, envelope-pushing stories in a country still torn by sectarian divisions. 

No progress in the rest of the region 

Every Ramadan, a series or two from the developing markets of North Africa and the Persian Gulf manage to elbow their way into the stacked Ramadan season and offer worthy alternatives to Egypt and Syria. 

This year that wasn't the case, as Tunisia, Morocco and Iraq failed to capitalise on recent successes.

Instead, they churned out humdrum fares with no crossover appeal that strictly catered to their respective local viewers.  

Tunisia’s Rafel ambitiously endeavoured to present a panorama of the social changes Tunisia underwent in the 60s, 80s, and noughties only to fall flat on its face with an overwrought narrative lacking momentum and poor production values. 

Morocco’s Rahma, a domestic melodrama about a wife fighting to escape her toxic marriage, caused a stir in the kingdom with its frank depiction of infidelity and sexual abuse. 

Its formulaic narration and over-the-top performances failed to attract viewership outside of the North African country. 

No works of note were released from Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, which continue to treat Ramadan as fodder for lethargically produced, unimaginatively written soap operas largely made for older demographics happy to take comfort in their dated aesthetics and hammy theatrics.  

US streamers gave up on the region 

There was a time when Netflix, Amazon and the other US streamers were heralded as the saviours of Arab TV.

With them came a hope for an industry forever thrust in a draining battle with censorship and the commercial demands of the market. 

Today though, it is widely recognised that American streamers have thrown in the towel, happy to assume the role of an idle player that solely relies on its international programming and licensed content to sustain its subscriber base. 

Netflix and Amazon have not released any original Arabic programming this year so far. 

The former’s announced lineup for all of 2025 consists of a whopping four series from Egypt, Kuwait and Lebanon.  

MBC, meanwhile, continues to release original programming through its popular streaming platform Shahid every month, consolidating its position as the essential platform for the best mainstream Arab TV and film. 

The Arab world’s blockbuster TV season has been won once again by MBC and Shahid, leaving the American streamers in the dust. 

Shahid has championed quality TV at a time when Netflix continues to rehash old formulas that are emblematic of its growing unconcern with an otherwise highly promising market hungry for sophisticated drama. 

Arab viewers will not suspend their subscriptions to the American streamers, but the increasing breadth of Shahid’s reach uncovers the failure of Netflix and its cohorts in penetrating a demanding market they can no longer win. A fast-growing market they may soon rue as a missed opportunity lost to their shortsightedness and sloppiness.