TCA Interviews - The Times Of Central Asia

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Nyshanbek Zhubanaev

Kazakhstan-Based Actor Nyshanbek Zhubanaev on His Journey, Faith, and the Future of Cinema

Nyshanbek Zhubanaev is a professional actor, a graduate of the T.K. Zhurgenov Kazakh National Academy of Arts, and a rising star of series such as Sheker, 1286, and Munai. His path into acting, however, did not begin with red carpets or casting calls, but at a phosphorus plant. Taking a leap of faith to escape a life he describes as scripted by others, Zhubanaev pursued his childhood dream with persistence and conviction. In an interview with The Times of Central Asia, he reflects on his first steps in cinema, the role of faith, inner conflict, and why, for him, humanity matters more than talent. TCA: Your popularity came with the web series Sheker 2, 1286, and Munai. Two of them are set in the 1990s. Why do you think this decade continues to fascinate directors? Zhubanaev: It was a time of contrasts and complexity. When people say Munai romanticizes crime, I feel they’ve missed the point. It’s not about crime, it’s about the clash of personalities and how the oil business emerged in our country. The 90s serve as a backdrop. And in cinema, atmosphere is half the battle. As an actor, I want to be part of projects where that atmosphere is palpable. Whether it’s the 90s or another era doesn't matter. What matters is telling strong, vivid stories. TCA: What themes do you feel are missing in Kazakh cinema today? Zhubanaev: Our cinema is still developing, and there’s so much left to explore. People often say we lack films about love and relationships. We do have them, but not the kind you want to talk about seriously. And love is one of the hardest topics to portray, it leaves you no room to hide behind genre, action, or style. It demands talent. I read a lot, and I’m constantly amazed by the richness of Kazakh literature and history, and how little of it we bring to the screen. Take Mukhtar Auezov’s Karash Okigas, it’s a ready-made screenplay. During Soviet times, Kyrgyz director Bolotbek Shamshiyev adapted it, but today it deserves a modern retelling. TCA: You often cite literature as a source of cinematic inspiration. Zhubanaev: Absolutely. Look at Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front. Its recent film adaptation won an Oscar, though I found the film debatable. We have our own counterpart, Kazakh Soldier by Gabit Musrepov. Why not adapt that with a modern cinematic language? I also love the works of Beimbet Mailin. He’s an incredibly cinematic writer who remains relevant today. His Shuganyn Belgisi, written nearly a century ago, still speaks to issues like equality and the role of women in traditional society. As far as I know, Akan Satayev is currently preparing a film adaptation of Mailin’s Kulpash, the story of a woman who takes a desperate step to save her family during a famine. It’s powerful, dramatic material. The problem isn’t a lack of themes, it’s about who tells the story and how. You can create a visually perfect film and still fail...

Kazakh Art

Beyond the Yurt: Rethinking Nomadism in Kazakh Contemporary Art

At a moment when Kazakhstan is building new cultural institutions and asking bigger questions about what contemporary art should do, one curator has been quietly learning how power, taste, and narrative are shaped inside major museums. Akmaral Kulbatyrova, the first representative of Kazakhstan to receive the U.S.-based ArtTable Fellowship, spent 2025 working in the Exhibitions and Curatorial Projects Department at The Bass Museum of Art in Miami Beach, gaining rare inside access to how global exhibitions are conceived and positioned. Her work sits at the intersection of institutional practice and cultural repair, focused on reframing nomadic culture, Central Asian heritage, and Kazakh craft not as static tradition but as a current language. Akmaral’s experience links ambition and execution, showing how local histories can enter international spaces without being flattened. In this interview with The Times of Central Asia, we asked her what comes next. TCA: Nomadic imagery has become central to Kazakhstan’s national identity since independence. How are contemporary artists reshaping these symbols, and why does that matter for how the country sees itself today? AK: Kazakh contemporary artists briefly challenged Kazakh art in early avant-garde experiments in the 1960s. However, it stopped because of the huge presence of Socialist Realism, which was one of the movements where symbols like horses and yurts prevailed. Most of the contemporary artists reshape not the symbols; they reimagine nomadic culture, contextualizing pre-Soviet culture through researching how it changed over time. Many artists look back to pre-Soviet nomadic practices to explore how these traditions were disrupted by colonial and Soviet policies, yet continue to influence Kazakh identity today. By using installation, performance, and video, they move beyond decoration and folklore to show nomadism as a living culture rather than a museum image or symbols. This matters because it helps Kazakhstan see itself not through simplified national symbols, but as a society shaped by change, cultural mixing, and an ongoing negotiation between past and present. [caption id="attachment_42899" align="aligncenter" width="1536"] Qyz Zhibek, designed by Nikolai Vladimirovich Tsivchinsky and Moldakhmet Syzdykovich Kenbaev, 1971; image: TCA[/caption] TCA: Nomadism now circulates widely in pop culture, often detached from its historical meaning. Why does contemporary art provide a more critical way to examine what nomadic identity represents? AK: It’s typical that symbolic images prevail in pop culture, especially for countries that have not experienced a long artistic tradition. It is one of the ways to be acknowledged by the privileged cultures through the symbols that are easy to recognize and quickly signal national identity. In Kazakhstan, these images became important after independence, as they cover the main question of cultural uniqueness after colonial influence. Contemporary art takes slower and more contextual approaches rather than easy recognition. That’s why most modern scholars criticize symbolic language and would like to see art that explores unresolved histories and how nations were challenged or used their experience to construct their identity. [caption id="attachment_42900" align="aligncenter" width="750"] Anvar Musrepov, IKEA KZ; image courtesy of the Aspan Gallery[/caption] TCA: Many artists use nomadic motifs with irony rather...

TCA Interviews

Attempting to Build a Litter-Free Kazakhstan: An Interview with Ecologist Kamila Akimbekova

Ten years ago, waste recycling in Almaty was largely the domain of individual enthusiasts. Today, environmental campaigns draw thousands, and conversations about responsible consumption have become part of daily life for many city residents. One of the pioneers of this movement is Kamila Akimbekova, an eco-influencer and co-organizer of environmental initiatives. In an interview with The Times of Central Asia, she reflects on the evolution of Almaty’s eco-community, the principles behind the zero waste concept, and how small, consistent changes can reshape a city. TCA: Kamila, you had a successful career in banking. What prompted your transition to environmental activism? Kamila: I think my interests evolved. People often think recycling is a new trend, but it actually existed in the USSR: students collected waste paper, and people returned glass for reuse. It was an effective circular economy. When I became a mother for the second time, I began thinking more deeply about my impact on the world. I started researching whether Almaty had recycling facilities. At the time, information was scarce, and it wasn’t easy to locate collection points, but I didn’t give up. TCA: Was access to information more limited 10-15 years ago? Kamila: Absolutely. Social media was less developed, and online information was often outdated or unreliable. I started looking for people who shared my values and eventually connected with Almaty’s early eco-activists. They were scattered individuals with a shared desire for change. Over time, we formed a real community, launched joint projects, and I began sharing what I learned on my blog. That’s how I transitioned to eco-influencing. Today, I have around 30,000 Instagram followers, an engaged audience concerned about the environment. TCA: Is the eco-community large now? Kamila: It’s grown significantly, especially in Almaty, though we’re also connected with activists across Kazakhstan. Participation has multiplied. Our early events drew 20-50 people. Now we see around 2,000. There’s strong interest from students and school-children, I lecture regularly and see growing volunteerism. At our last campaign, electronic sensors showed that 1,900 people attended. TCA: Is it true that women form the core of the eco-community? Kamila: Yes, that’s backed by studies. Women tend to be more environmentally conscious, likely due to traditional roles as caretakers of the home and future generations. TCA: Today, people can recycle much more than just paper, glass, and plastic. How did that expansion come about? Kamila: I wanted a convenient way to dispose of multiple waste types, old medicines, unused items, plastics, metals, e-waste, etc. In 2019, we invited companies like Rocket Plastic and an e-waste recycler to set up at our events. We also partnered with the Almaty Pop-Up Store and expanded through collaborations with the Darmarka project and the Recycle Birge team. TCA: I was surprised to learn you accept unusual items, used cooking oil, expired candy, even food scraps for farmers. Kamila: We follow the zero waste concept, which aims to reduce waste to zero. Many newcomers think sorting is the most important part, but recycling is actually the last...

TCA Interviews

TCA Interview: Musician Merey Otan on the Reinvention of Kazakh Musical Instruments

Until recently, Kazakh national instruments were largely associated with school concerts, folk ensembles, and official ceremonies. The dombra (a long-necked, two-stringed plucked instrument), kobyz (a bowed string instrument with two horsehair strings), and sybyzgy (a wooden end-blown flute traditionally made from apricot wood) seemed to occupy a separate cultural space: symbolically important, yet detached from everyday life. “Before, the dombra was for me only part of school concerts,” recalls Sanzhar Uvashev, 24, a sales specialist from Almaty. “It was brought out on holidays, people dressed in national costumes, played a couple of obligatory songs, and that was it. I never thought this instrument could sound different, or be part of contemporary music.” Today, that distance is steadily narrowing. The sound of the dombra is increasingly featured in contemporary original music, electronic compositions, film scores, and social media. Young musicians are not abandoning tradition, but they are no longer treating it as something frozen in time. To understand how this rethinking is taking place, and why tradition need not remain 'untouched', The Times of Central Asia spoke with Merey Otan, a researcher and musician who works with Kazakh instruments in a modern cultural context. ТCA: Merey, how did your study of national instruments begin? Was it a deliberate decision? MO: It started during my master’s studies, when I was writing a thesis on contemporary music in Kazakhstan. As part of that research, I interviewed the ethno-rock band Aldaspan and kobyz player Almat Saizhan. I was especially interested in how the dombra and kobyz were being transformed and modernized and eventually devoted a whole chapter of my work to this topic. So yes, it was a conscious choice. TCA: People often argue that tradition should be preserved in its original form. What’s your take on that? MO: I’ve heard that view often, especially from traditional musicians. Some believe, for example, that an electronic dombra desecrates the instrument. Given the sacred meaning of the dombra and kobyz, I understand that stance. In sociology, these people are sometimes called purists. But I disagree. The world is changing, and some traditions from the nomadic era have lost their relevance or even become barriers. I believe traditions can, and sometimes should, evolve. If modifying an instrument helps engage younger generations, why not? TCA: Where do you personally draw the line between respect for heritage and experimentation? MO: I see nothing wrong with experimentation. On the contrary, bands like Steppe Sons show deep respect for heritage. Their members have formal musical education and a strong grounding in tradition. However, it's important to consider the concept of cultural appropriation from postcolonial theory. This occurs when privileged groups use the culture of marginalized communities for personal gain. In music, this might look like a Western artist profiting from Kazakh instruments without acknowledging Kazakh musicians. That, in my view, is disrespectful. TCA: Is there still criticism about the “incorrect” use of traditional instruments? MO: Yes, certainly. When Aldaspan introduced the electronic dombra, public figures like Bekbolat Tleukhan were highly critical....

Cinema

Kazakh Producer Yulia Kim: “We Are Closing the Gap Between Central Asia and World Cinema”

Central Asia is increasingly being recognized as a bright new spot on the global cinema map. Films by regional directors are now regularly featured in major festival programs, and international curators are paying closer attention to the area’s filmmaking talent. One of the key platforms fostering these connections is the Post Space film camp in Kyrgyzstan, a space where emerging directors present their work directly to global festival decision-makers. The Times of Central Asia spoke with Post Space co-founder and Kazakh producer Yulia Kim about how this format works, why bridging the gap between the region and the global film industry is vital, and how campfire songs can forge creative collaborations. [caption id="attachment_42621" align="aligncenter" width="1060"] @PostSpace[/caption] TCA: Yulia, you’re one of the founders of Post Space, widely considered the most influential film camp in Central Asia. You’ve been organizing it for four years now. Has it yielded results? Yulia: Many. In 2024, the Locarno Film Festival invited two Kazakh directors, including Aruan Anartay, a Post Space participant. Last year, we had another Kazakh participant. The Lisbon Film Festival even curated a program specifically dedicated to Central Asian cinema. Its director, Portuguese producer Paulo Branco, visited Post Space for the first time in 2024 and fell in love with our filmmakers. I believe that for the festival curators we invited, Central Asia has opened up in new ways. They now approach our films with a deeper understanding and, hopefully, greater interest. TCA: Would you say international interest is growing? Yulia: Yes, but Post Space aims for more than just professional development. We also strive to create a friendly, supportive atmosphere. The connections formed here often become lasting collaborations. For instance, we ran a screenwriting lab, and soon several films developed during that project will be released. One participant, Diaz Bertis, refined his script with the help of an international mentor we brought in. These are vital steps for our industry. TCA: Many local initiatives fizzle out quickly. Are you planning for the long term? Yulia: Absolutely. Our project is just gaining momentum. But we’re working with a minimal budget and little external support, which limits what we can do. We'd like to offer more grants and long-term support to the projects emerging from Post Space, but for now, it’s mostly moral support. Still, we’re pushing forward, and young filmmakers are eager to grow with us. We focus on giving a voice to emerging artists who aren’t even recognized at local festivals, let alone international ones. TCA: So Post Space is a launchpad for debut filmmakers? Yulia: For many, yes. There’s so much talent in the region, but a lot of it has no connection to the film industry. We want to be the space where they gain confidence, present their work, and receive feedback. Many participants hadn’t shown their films anywhere before Post Space, often due to fear or inexperience. They were thrilled to screen their work here. TCA: What stood out about Post Space 2025? Yulia: Each year has its...

TCA Interviews

Kazakh-Spanish Film La Tregua to Premiere on Netflix

Following its premiere at the San Sebastian International Film Festival this fall, where it received a special award, the Kazakh-Spanish film La Tregua (The Truce) has been released in cinemas in Spain and Kazakhstan. It is now set to become the first Spanish-language film featuring Kazakhstan to appear on Netflix. “Although critics say the film is not for popcorn viewing, given its focus on little-known and tragic chapters in the histories of Kazakhstan and Spain, its release has generated strong emotional responses in both countries,” said Yerlan Bekhozhin, a prominent Kazakh journalist and co-producer of the film, in an interview with The Times of Central Asia. “It speaks to the timeless struggle of human confrontation.” The film presents a Kazakh narrative about Spaniards caught on opposing sides of ideological conflict. “It is a story from the last century, yet it addresses the present day,” Bekhozhin said. “When we look at today’s world, it’s clear that people lack the ability to engage in dialogue. The main message of the film is: There is always a way to negotiate.” Netflix is expected to stream the film in 2026. Distribution discussions are also underway for theatrical releases in Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America. [caption id="attachment_41648" align="aligncenter" width="2560"] Still from La Tregua[/caption] From Karaganda to the Screen The story is rooted in the history of Karlag, the Karaganda labor camp that operated in Kazakhstan from 1937 to 1959. Victims of Stalinist repression from across the Soviet Union, including foreign nationals, were imprisoned there for dissent, free expression, or as victims of denunciations. The idea for the film came from Spanish producer César Benítez, inspired by an event from over 30 years ago. During the Soviet era, the identities of Spanish citizens imprisoned in Karlag were kept secret. After Kazakhstan gained independence, its government handed the list of repressed Spaniards to the King of Spain, a gesture that sparked widespread attention in Spain, allowing many families to finally discover the fate of their relatives. Years earlier, the Spanish documentary, The Forgotten in Karaganda, had drawn significant attention to the subject. Now, Benítez has transformed the story into a feature film. “The title The Truce is deeply relevant today, at a time when peace requires people to sit at the same table,” said Bekhozhin. [caption id="attachment_41650" align="aligncenter" width="2560"] Still from La Tregua[/caption] Kazakh Identity on a Global Stage Bekhozhin also emphasized the film’s role in portraying Kazakh identity. “Its global release will introduce the world to the law of the steppe, the law of hospitality,” he said. “Kazakhs have long demonstrated empathy forged under harsh conditions. It’s part of our national character to welcome others, regardless of nationality or faith.” One scene in the film shows a Kazakh family near the camp inviting Spanish prisoners into their home and setting a traditional dastarkhan, a generous table of lamb-based dishes. The prisoners are seated in the place of honor, or torge, in keeping with Kazakh custom. “In the film, the hostess explains that when...