Christine Tannous: The quiet strength behind Lebanon’s latest cinematic triumph in Cannes

When Lebanese filmmaker Christine Tannous received the message that her short film Peony had won Best Inspiring Film at the 2025 Cannes World Film Festival, she froze. “I don’t remember very well,” she admits, laughing softly. “It’s a blur. I was in shock. All I could think about was the work, the people who helped, the exhaustion, the emotion behind every shot. It was overwhelming.”

For Tannous, Peony was never meant to be an award-winning film. It was, as she describes it, “a personal act of healing.” The story of Omar, a young man haunted by the memory of his parents’ drowning, who learns to turn fear into tenderness, was born from a place of pain, loss, and resilience. “I just wanted people to feel,” she says simply.

To feel the fear, the trauma, the love that’s hidden inside pain.

But beyond the festival lights and applause lies the quieter, harder story of how she got here, a story that mirrors that of many Lebanese artists: one of defiance, grit, and a love for beauty that survives against all odds.

The Girl with the Camera

Christine’s love for film began long before she ever called herself a filmmaker. “Since I was a kid, my family used to bring a small camera home,” she recalls. “I would grab it right away and start filming little imaginary scenes. Even at school, I loved acting.”

But when she reached high school, that creative flame was almost extinguished. “It was a public school, and there was nothing art related. I would doodle on the tables just to remind myself of it.” When it came time to choose a university major, art once again clashed with reality. “My mom completely refused the idea of me doing theater. To her, it was ‘dirty work’, something that wouldn’t bring money.”

So, Christine compromised, applying to the Faculty of Fine Arts, where she found a middle ground in scenography and theater design. Yet even there, cinema began to call louder than anything else.

Between Exhaustion and Faith

The road to becoming a filmmaker in Lebanon is rarely smooth, and for Christine, it was paved with both personal and systemic challenges. “There’s no support,” she says. “At the Lebanese University, we didn’t even have cameras or equipment. You must figure everything out yourself.”

Her final-year project, the one that truly solidified her direction, almost didn’t happen. “It only happened thanks to my brother’s help. We needed the Civil Defense, the Red Cross, a tow truck, things that cost money. It was a struggle.”

At the same time, she was commuting every day from Furn el-Chebbak to Tannourine, an exhausting, hours-long journey between her home and the landscapes that shaped her creativity. “When I first switched majors to cinema, my mom didn’t talk to me for a month,” she recalls quietly. “So imagine: I was commuting daily, barely sleeping, working on my projects, and my mom wasn’t speaking to me.”

Today, things are different.

Now, seeing how proud they are, that gives me strength. That’s what keeps me going.

A Cinema of Memory and Feeling

Christine’s work carries a rare sincerity, the kind that can’t be faked or taught. “What makes Peony special,” she reflects, “is its honesty and simplicity. Its décor, clothing, and script, all were very human and real. It’s a story you can find anywhere, everywhere.”

Her vision is rooted in emotion, not spectacle. “When I made the film, my goal wasn’t to impress anyone or win anything. I just wanted people to feel.”

And that, perhaps, is the heart of her art, a cinema of feeling, where loss becomes language and memory becomes movement.

The Artist ‘s Message to the World

Tannous wants people to know that cinema is not entertainment; it’s testimony. “Art has the power to change things, to preserve the memories of communities, families, people,” she says. “You give a voice to stories that are silenced in some way. You revisit them through art.”

Tannourine, her home and frequent filming location, is more than a backdrop, it’s a character in her life. “Its harshness, its nature, they push me to create. It was our only escape, really. The only way out.”

Through her films, Christine hopes to make people remember. “A human being is a collection of memories,” she explains. “If you want to kill someone, you take their memories. They become like a robot. So, when you make someone feel, truly feel, it’s something huge.”

A Cinematic Hope for Lebanon

For all her international recognition, Christine’s hopes remain close to home. “If Lebanon can truly appreciate the value of cinema, it can benefit so much,” she insists. “Cinema doesn’t only express, it builds. It develops all other sectors, even tourism. It gives a country its mirror.”

Her win at Cannes is more than personal triumph; it’s proof that even in a country where certain professions often struggle to survive, art still breaks through.

Christine Tannous may not remember the exact moment she won. But Lebanon, with its spirit and its memory, surely will.