The “Branch 215” prison in Damascus, Syria.Image: If only the year had 364 days
Film News
Almourad Aldeeb is a Syrian filmmaker and former prisoner in one of Bashar al-Assad’s regime’s notorious prisons. He reports on his imprisonment in a film that celebrated its world premiere at the Visions du Réel. A conversation.
April 26, 2026, 8:11 p.mApril 26, 2026, 8:11 p.m
translation
This text was written by our colleagues from French-speaking Switzerland and we translated it for you.
The Visions du Réel festival in western Switzerland was a dream come true for Almourad Aldeeb. On Thursday, April 23rd, at 6:15 p.m The Syrian director presented the world premiere of his film “If Only the Year Had 364 Days” in Nyon. A second screening will take place on Friday, April 24th at 11:15 a.m.
In this feature film he tells of his imprisonment over ten years ago in one of the Assad regime’s notorious prisons. He was about twenty years old at the time. In 2013, the revolution in the country had already been simmering for almost two years. As a theater student in Damascus, Almourad Aldeeb belongs to a group of activists and takes part in the protests – a political commitment that led to his expulsion from the university.
However, he is not discouraged and continues to protest. Until that crucial December 30, 2013.
What happened that day?
Almourad Aldeeb: The government did not want to allow demonstrations in Damascus. The authorities have been trying to silence us since 2013. We continued to protest with my friends, especially by distributing flyers or putting up graffiti. On the day of my arrest, I was at the art school where I was studying – which made my arrest easier. Guards came and took my friend and I to the Branch 215 prison. Compared to Saidnaya – which is often mentioned in the media – it is small, but just as terrible. In fact, it is more of a torture prison than a normal prison.
“People stay there for about a year. They are either released, executed or die under torture or disease. Survival is not guaranteed. Many never come out again.”
Almourad Aldeeb, Syrian filmmaker.Image: windcinema
When you were in the car, did you know where you were being taken?
No. The men who arrested us drove us all over the city. The journey was deliberately drawn out. But the prison was right next to the university! Today I feel like I barely remember anything. In such traumatic moments, the body forgets so many details. The guards, for example: strangely, I don’t remember their faces. That’s why her jewelry and shirts remain in my memory.
«On this December 30th, the rest of my group was also arrested. We were eleven. Three survived Branch 215. I saw three of my friends in prison. They died under torture. Their bodies couldn’t hold up. Later, another asked to be transferred to a hospital. A guard advised him against it because the torture continued there.”
The building from the outside after the fall of the Assad regime.Image: If only the year had 364 days
How long were you locked up?
I don’t want to answer this question. It also remains unanswered in the film.
Why?
Because time passes differently in prison.
“Every hour corresponds to several years of suffering.”
Some people I met in prison couldn’t even remember it. In the cinema you see prisoners counting the days and writing on the wall. We had no strength to count the time. And besides, you get used to it after a while.
For his film, Almourad Aldeeb returned to Branch 215 Prison in Damascus.Image: If only the year had 364 days
One of the cells.Image: If only the year had 364 days
A walk in prison.Image: If only the year had 364 days
How did you manage to survive?
Happiness. And a certain state of mind.
«Everyone has the potential and the strength to overcome terrible moments. I wanted to live. So I focused on that mentally.”
I also received hope, love and energy from other prisoners. When they found out that I was a student and was planning to make a film, they told me, “You’re going to come out here and tell our story.” By the way, one of them explained to me that in order to survive in prison, I had to forget the outside world and the person I was. “These terrible conditions are now your home,” he told me. «You will spend your time in this cell, so eat, even if the food is terrible. Drink the water even if it is not clean. Find a routine. Move your body, even if you only have a few square meters of space.”
“I almost died in the first month. After that it was either give up or find a way to fight.”
What was your everyday life like?
I fought for food or for a few more inches of space in the cell. In the first three months there were up to a hundred prisoners in four by five meters. We slept next to each other as if we were chained together. (He laughs) This is very intimate! Today, when I call one of my friends with whom I was imprisoned, I tell him: “I miss your knees!”
You can laugh about your experiences…
Humor is important when working through trauma like this. It’s also important to talk about it. For yourself and for the future generations who grew up in Syria during such a difficult time.
How did your release go?
Every morning the guards come into the cells and take out prisoners. One of my friends didn’t respond when they called his name because he was too weak. When they saw him, the authorities decided not to release him. When it was my turn – the story is almost ironic – I was on the toilet! I had stomach problems. Normally we were only allowed to go there twice a day. An inmate I was close to ran away and I screamed from the toilet. That day the guards told me: “You can go out.”
And then?
I was taken from the basement to the upper floor. This is a sign that the authorities are working on your case. You know, in prison it goes like this: three weeks of torture, then you go to the basement. And then everything is forgotten! When I came back upstairs, I ended up in court.
“They accused me of being a member of a terrorist organization and of working as a spy for Israel.”
I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time because I couldn’t imagine that they themselves believed what they were saying.
Did you say something?
No! The guards would have beaten me immediately.
When you hear about Bashar al-Assad’s regime’s prisons, you think their goal is to kill the prisoners and break resistance. Then why are some people released?
“The government’s goal was not to keep the activists in prison, but to spread fear in society.”
Almourad Aldeeb, director.
When we were released, our families and loved ones heard our reports and themselves became afraid of being killed, arrested or released. My father, for example, was an engineer. He was released after my arrest.
“By torturing us, the regime was attacking the entire Syrian population.”
You have been living in Europe for about ten years. Why did you leave Syria?
Six months after my release, those who arrested me came to see me again. I panicked so much that they became nervous too. They were confused because they had only come to monitor me. I tried to escape, but I couldn’t move. That was the sign that I had to go. I went to Turkey, where I lived for over a year before coming to Germany. During this time, I wrote down my everyday life in prison and dealt intensively with the term trauma. That helped me a lot.
How did you pick yourself up again after this traumatic event?
Through the writing and execution of this film. By the way, I was interested in the subject of prison even before this terrible time. However, I only had a vague idea of what incarceration was like… Until the government decided to give me the full experience (laughs)! I still wonder how such places can still exist in a time when so many technologies have been invented. My story is also that of the Palestinians, the Iranians, the Lebanese.
When did you return to Syria?
One week after the fall of the regime in December 2024. It was crazy! I felt like a stranger, like I came from another time. It was night and there was no electricity.
“Syria was deserted. The country seemed like a shadow of its former self.”
The signs of the fighting were still visible, weapons were scattered on the ground. Over time I became aware of the full extent of the catastrophe. Syria was a rich, incredible country. But Bashar al-Assad and his followers had warned: “Either you vote for us or we burn the country down.” That’s exactly what they did. They plundered the country, destroying the economy, infrastructure and entire families for generations.
Will the people who harmed you ever have to stand trial?
The process will be long and will not only take place in court.
What does that mean specifically?
Justice also means knowing what happened. Families have a right to know where their children were tortured and died. In which mass graves do their bodies lie? This knowledge can help a society heal. That’s exactly why it’s so important to tell my story and that of my friends – so that the truth comes out.
What does the future of Syria look like?
The region is in ruins, war is omnipresent, and we as a society are traumatized. Nevertheless, today we can talk about politics without getting arrested. That’s not enough – but it’s a start. We are like a baby slowly taking its first steps.
In your film you return to the rooms of the prison where you were imprisoned. How did that make you feel?
The first time I panicked. Things were better on the second visit. I was there as a director and had a cameraman with me.
“The most difficult and important encounter was with the families of my deceased friends.”
Almourad Aldeeb, director.
In my therapy sessions it became clear to me: I would never find peace or heal if I didn’t dare to have this encounter. Ironically, it took place on December 30th. I returned to the room where we organized our protests – and cried the tears of the last ten years. Afterwards, my parents asked me a lot of questions. And today I still don’t feel well because I couldn’t answer everyone.
Do you have the answers?
“If Only the Year Had 364 Days” is my answer.
The film “If Only the Year had 364 Days” will be shown on Friday, April 24th at 11:15 a.m. at the Visions du Réel festival in Nyon. More information can be found here.