A Law Without Cinema: Why Film Reform Risks Remaining on Paper

The decree signed by President Ilham Aliyev introducing amendments to the Law “On Cinematography” appears to be a long-awaited step toward modernization. Definitions of “national film,” “foreign film,” and “co-produced film” have been clarified; stages of film production have been formalized; and a mechanism for partial reimbursement of expenses for foreign producers has been introduced. Authorities declare their intention to turn Azerbaijan into a “regional film production hub.”

However, a closer look reveals a stark reality: there is a gulf between legislation on paper and a functioning industry in practice — one that cannot be bridged by regulatory acts alone.

Global Practice: Rebates Are Necessary but Not Sufficient

Cash rebate systems are a standard tool for attracting international producers. By 2026, global competition for film production has reached unprecedented levels. Abu Dhabi offers rebates of up to 50% of qualifying expenses, the United Kingdom provides 25% with an additional 29.25% rate for VFX work, Saudi Arabia offers 40% backed by a $100 million fund, the Czech Republic has raised its rate to 25%, and Germany to 30%. Even neighboring Georgia offers 20–25% cashback and has attracted more than 60 international projects in recent years.

Yet no country has succeeded on the strength of rebate percentages alone. Wherever the system works, three interlinked elements are present: a skilled workforce, developed infrastructure, and a creative environment capable of producing content of international quality.

Saudi Arabia’s experience is particularly illustrative. Having lifted its cinema ban only in 2018, the kingdom is investing hundreds of millions of dollars in studio construction — from NEOM to AlUla Studios and PlayMaker Studios. At the same time, large-scale training programs have been launched, including partnerships with Pinewood Studios, the Esra school, and the Clermont-Ferrand festival.

Nevertheless, even with such substantial investments, the shortage of qualified personnel remains the key challenge: according to the British Council, 41% of industry participants cite the lack of specialists as the main obstacle.

In other words, rebates are bait — but producers do not come for the percentage. They come where there are people and infrastructure to work with.

Talent Drain: No One to Work

The Azerbaijani context differs fundamentally from that of Saudi Arabia, the Czech Republic, or Georgia. While Saudi Arabia is building an industry from scratch, Azerbaijan is experiencing the gradual erosion of a once-established cinematic school.

The кадров problem is systemic. According to OC Media, young qualified professionals are leaving the country en masse. Whereas in the 1990s it was primarily rural residents seeking work abroad, today it is educated individuals who cannot find opportunities for professional realization at home. Experts note that official statistics underestimate the true scale of emigration: thousands leave each year and do not return.

An academic study by Sarvar Gurbanov points to the same trend: “Instead of building a coherent system to attract young and talented professionals, Azerbaijan is experiencing a brain drain to Turkey and Russia.” Participants in state-funded overseas education programs often fail to return, as the state cannot integrate them into the domestic economy.

In cinematography, this issue is particularly acute. The country lacks internationally recognized film schools and has no systematic training for technical specialists — cinematographers, sound engineers, colorists, VFX supervisors, assistant directors, line producers — without whom no serious international production is possible.

In practice, the entire infrastructure is limited to the Azerbaijanfilm studio under the Ministry of Culture and a few private cinema chains.

Under these conditions, any foreign producer will inevitably ask: where can a full production crew be assembled? Who can deliver standards comparable to Budapest, Prague, or Tbilisi? Scenic locations — whether Baku’s architecture or mountain landscapes — cannot compensate for the absence of qualified personnel.

Creative Unfreedom: A Cage for Auteur Cinema

Even if talent were available, its realization would face another systemic constraint — the industry’s dependence on state funding, which inevitably entails control over content.

As film critic Haji Safarov noted in an interview with JAMnews, “by fully financing films, the state often considers itself entitled to influence their content, leading to censorship in the creative process.” He emphasizes that this is not a formally structured system of total censorship, but neither can it be described as free — the mechanism is opaque and situational.

Eurasianet journalist Heydar Isayev offers an even more direct formulation: to receive state support, projects must remain within the “tone of Azerbaijani political correctness.” Film critic Togrul Abbasov adds that even with private financing, shooting in certain locations requires official permission, and producing politically critical films is effectively impossible.

This institutional model has shaped a particular type of output. The Baku Research Institute describes it as “patriotic didacticism, lifeless narratives, and rhetorical dialogue,” where personal expression is replaced by formalized “love of the motherland.”

Such an environment is not merely unattractive for international cooperation — it is toxic. Producers seek not only locations but also creative vision, boldness, and the ability to tell universal stories. Within rigid ideological constraints, this search becomes futile.

Unfreedom as a Systemic Factor

These issues do not exist in isolation; they are embedded in a broader context of ограничения. According to international organizations, Azerbaijan ranks low in freedom indices; reports cite arrests of journalists, closures of international media offices, and revocation of accreditations.

This atmosphere affects cinema no less than direct censorship. A telling episode involved a veteran actor who publicly criticized the Ministry of Culture, only to retract his statement the following day. For an international producer, this is not an abstract political backdrop but a concrete risk: can creative freedom be guaranteed in a system where criticism may carry professional consequences?

What a Rebate Means Without an Ecosystem

Comparisons with other countries highlight the gap. In the Czech Republic, a 25% rebate works because it is supported by decades of studio development (Barrandov Studios), a skilled workforce, and an open creative environment. In Georgia, a similar rate has attracted dozens of international projects due to a combination of business liberalism, diverse locations, and relative creative свобода.

Even Saudi Arabia, despite its restrictions, is investing heavily in the core elements of the industry: education, infrastructure, and partnerships with global institutions.

Against this backdrop, Azerbaijan’s amendments appear declarative. The parameters of the rebate have yet to be defined and are left to a “relevant executive authority.” The charter capital of the Azerbaijan Film Agency stands at 100,000 manats (around $58,800) — a figure incomparable with international scales. By contrast, Saudi Arabia allocated $100 million to a single film fund, while Denmark runs a program with annual funding of approximately €17.5 million.

Conclusion: Law as Showcase

The amendments to the Law “On Cinematography” create the appearance of reform rather than its substance. They simulate integration into global practice without addressing structural constraints.

As long as the country lacks a critical mass of professionals capable of delivering international standards; as long as state funding remains dominant and tied to ideological loyalty; and as long as independent creative expression carries risks — the rebate will remain a formal provision.

Global experience is unequivocal: investment follows talent, infrastructure, and freedom. Without all three, the law on cinematography is merely an invitation to a celebration for which neither the hall, nor the stage, nor the team has been built.