MARRAKECH, Morocco — Following the screening of “Cabo Negro” at the Marrakech International Film Festival this week, organizers took precautions amid anticipated controversy by quickly escorting the crew out and canceling the post-film Q&A with director Abdellah Taia.

“Cabo Negro,” which was one of the 70 features showcased at the festival, tells the story of two young men enjoying a summer on a northern beach in Morocco. The film, which received official permission for filming in the country, explores themes related to queer identity and experiences. In his introduction, Taia shared his vision for the film, stating, “I am Moroccan. I am gay. And I have always wanted to portray the reality of Moroccan gays in cinema. The love that I never received while growing up, I created it and placed it into ‘Cabo Negro’ to offer it to today’s Moroccan youth.”

Despite Taia’s continued efforts in addressing homosexual themes in cinema, the subject matter of “Cabo Negro” and his statements resonate similarly with a cohort of filmmakers and actors present at the festival who champion the transformative power of cinema. Nevertheless, the unfolding events highlighted the underlying tensions within Morocco’s film industry.

The annual Marrakech festival attracts numerous film stars with its promise of mild winter weather and luxurious accommodations, providing a platform to celebrate the cinematic arts. This year’s event concluded with notable participants including Sean Penn and director Luca Guadagnino. However, the festival often creates a discordant image against the backdrop of censorship and the financial hurdles filmmakers encounter.

In recent years, the dynamics of the global film industry have shifted dramatically, especially as new festivals gain prominence in countries like Saudi Arabia and China, which boasts the second-largest entertainment sector worldwide. In Morocco, foreign films featuring romantic or sexual content can be screened at the Marrakech Film Festival without trouble, yet scenes depicting kissing in local airings of films like “Titanic” and “Spiderman” face censorship. While audiences can engage with critical narratives in cinema, such as a depiction of Iran’s struggles in 2022, journalists and activists facing state criticism risk imprisonment; this duality is also reflected in the legal status of homosexuality, which remains a punishable offense in Morocco.

As a video of Taia’s remarks gained traction in local media and social networks, supporters championed his freedom of expression. Conversely, some detractors, including a previous prime minister, questioned the reasoning behind allowing films about homosexuality to be shown at all. The management team at the festival, primarily led by French officials, abstained from commenting on the screening or the canceled discussion but highlighted their commitment to showcasing regional filmmakers.

“What sets Marrakech apart is its ability to attract prominent industry figures who generously engage with the audience while illuminating new talent,” noted Remi Bonhomme, the artistic director of the festival. While many admire the festival’s glitz, some are critical of its intentions, suggesting it might cater predominantly to an international audience and marketing interests. Mariam El Ajraoui, a film scholar from Morocco, voiced concerns that the festival could be perceived as prioritizing foreign interests over local cinema.

In the past decade, Morocco’s film industry has experienced notable growth, with successes at prestigious events like the Cannes Film Festival and international productions choosing the country as their backdrop. Despite the upward trajectory, the domestic market remains quite modest. Projections suggest that Moroccan films will generate approximately $11 million in ticket sales by 2024, a significant increase compared to a decade ago, yet less than half of these ticket sales originate from national productions.

In 2023, Morocco’s film authority allocated $5.9 million across 32 films, averaging about $184,000 for each project. Given that production costs frequently eclipse this budget, many filmmakers are compelled to seek funding from outside Morocco, whether from European or Middle Eastern sources. This funding approach tends to favor narratives that align with government approval while appealing to the perspective of international producers.

“To secure funding, you often have to look beyond Morocco, but you still need a green light from the CCM (Morocco’s film authority) for local shooting,” explained one producer who requested anonymity due to concerns over repercussions relating to state funding applications.

Taia’s “Cabo Negro,” which was produced on a low budget and did not receive government backing, still managed to secure permission from the CCM. “If there’s an audience for these films, why should we deny them?” remarked CCM director Abdelaziz El Bouzdaini, maintaining that Morocco is fundamentally a hospitable nation.

Directors in the industry articulate that addressing social themes often garners international acclaim and leads to festival placements; however, engaging with sensitive subjects can trigger backlash at home. “There’s an inexplicable paradox in the market dynamics, where more socially charged films, despite being less palatable, draw larger audiences,” noted director Yasmine Benkiran. Directors whose work touches on societal issues declare their motivations as uncomplicated, asserting that the topics they explore reflect genuine aspects of Moroccan life.

Nabil Ayouch, whose film “Everybody Loves Touda” debuted at Cannes, follows the journey of a folk singer migrating from a deprived village to urban Morocco and is set for domestic release soon. He has a history of addressing challenging themes like radicalization and sexuality, as seen in his controversial film “Much Loved,” which faced a ban in 2015. Nonetheless, Ayouch explained that creative choices stem from storytelling rather than audience appeal, underscoring his commitment to portraying authentic narratives of marginalized groups.

“I strive for honesty and sincerity in my films, concentrating on lived experiences often overlooked by society,” Ayouch added.