How the Ethiopian Government’s Corridor Development Project is Destructive to the Ethiopian Film Industry

In 2024, Mayor Adanech Abebe and the Ethiopian government, under Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, initiated the Addis Ababa Smart City Project. The primary motive behind the Smart City Project, also known as the Corridor Development Project (Corridor Lemat), is to aggressively modernize the capital and cement its status as a premier global diplomatic and economic hub. According to official communication, the aim is to transform Ethiopia into a key trade and logistics hub in East Africa.  “Leveraging Ethiopia’s strategic location, the project focuses on enhancing infrastructure, improving connectivity, and streamlining cross-border trade.” 

When it launched in late 2024, there was widespread house demolition targeted at giving way for the projected and promised modernity that will improve Ethiopians’ lives and economic viability. The first phase targeted central areas of the capital, while the second phase, covering 132 kilometers across eight corridors, was launched in October 2024. The ongoing modernization frenzy has led to forceful eviction, destruction of properties and businesses, and now, cultural and heritage sites. The newest addition is the Cinema Empire, one of the country’s oldest cinema spaces. 

Built in the early 1900s and influenced by Indian and Ethiopian architectural styles, Cinema Empire was a cornerstone of Ethiopian cinematic history. Operated by the Addis Ababa City Administration, it was one  of the few government-run venues for local features alongside Cinema Ethiopia, Ambassador Cinema, and Cinema Stereo. Alongside screenings of popular American and Indian films, it notably showcased recently restored vintage Ethiopian cinema—such as the landmark 1965 movie Ilala Ibsa’s Who is Hirut’s Father?, which premiered at the venue. 

For Ethiopian filmmakers and audiences, the cinema holds immense nostalgic, cultural, and political importance. For filmmakers like Melkamu Haile, who Culture Custodian had an extensive conversation with, Empire Cinema and its environs nurtured their creativity. Growing up and visiting the Empire Cinema, thanks to its heavily subsidized tickets (no more than 50 Ethiopian Birr at the time), was a recurring extracurricular activity. When Haile decided to pursue a career in filmmaking, he, like many of his friends, frequented the Piassa, which at that time was a hub for aspiring filmmakers. The spot attracts the who’s who of Ethiopian cinema, from revered directors to popular actors. These encounters were pivotal in building a generation of Ethiopian filmmakers that this current destruction has now disenfranchised.

During this period, Haile secured his first film-related job of delivering DVDs of movies (Yegodlegn, Yaletegera, and Lameba) to cinema houses. During this stint,  Haile’s meeting point was always around Empire Cinema in Piassa. When he worked as a Best Boy and Production Coordinator on film productions and eventually became a screenwriter, the Empire Cinema was a nurturing haven. After working on multiple projects, starting from 2007, one of his written projects, Yehelme Enat, screened at Empire Cinema. This is the story, with minimal tweaks, of many young Ethiopian filmmakers.”Beyond our professions, these spaces create opportunities to showcase our talents. Cinemas like Empire Cinema served as primary venues for filmmakers to display their work and generate revenue. For Ethiopian filmmakers, Piassa was the place where careers started. It was a cultural hub where filmmakers gathered, exchanged ideas, and shared opportunities—often without formal appointments.”

From orbiting Empire Cinema, distributing films in select cinemas, and screening a project, the now-destroyed cinema exposed Haile to the economic significance of cinema. “At that time, the film market was thriving; during opening weeks, cinema halls were often full. Long lines of cinema goers would form outside Empire Cinema, and the theaters would be packed. Sometimes, audiences would even leave without watching the film because the halls were full. New films would open weekly, and occasionally, two films would premiere in the same week.” The cultural value of the cinema lies in its curation and distribution of Ethiopian films that instils the cultural and patriarchal dictates of being Ethiopian. The world is a global village, but watching these Ethiopian films that deal with quotidian Ethiopian experiences sanitizes and situates the consciousness of the Ethiopian child on familiar subjects whilst fragmentarily exposing them to global conversations. With this destruction, the cultural and economical weight that the Empire Cinema carries has been forcefully dropped. 

When quizzed, Haile said the destruction isn’t just a critique of the Corridor Project but a  state-sanctioned annihilation of a cultural and heritage site. A mall is currently being constructed next to Empire Cinema. The plan is to expand the new, large mall. This proposed plan echoes what critics have repeated, that the Corridor Project is a capitalist-driven initiative concerned about building business ventures for private individuals, while the cultural fabric of the country is being mercilessly torn apart. “Regardless of the overall plan, demolishing such a significant cultural space is completely unacceptable and unnecessary.” Originally, the cinema was registered under the Ethiopian Heritage Authority as a heritage site to be preserved. However, the Federal Heritage Research and Protection Authority has recently denied this status, stating that the Empire Cinema does not meet the criteria for heritage protection. “This decision further complicates efforts to safeguard Ethiopia’s cinematic legacy and highlights the ongoing challenges in recognizing and protecting the country’s cultural assets,” Haile concluded. 

The Empire Cinema isn’t the only destroyed cinema space in Addis Ababa. The Wafa Cinema, formerly known as Devil House, was the first cinema house lost to the corridor development. The Wafa Cinema building still exists, but films are no longer screened there. For a country and continent that’s still struggling with fixing its national and continental distribution, the destruction of these cinemas stunts creative and economic growth. When filmmakers and investors aren’t certain of a distribution network, it makes filmmaking, which is an already-risky venture, riskier. This affects the number of films that get made and the commercial impact on the country’s earnings. 

The demolition of the iconic Empire Cinema in Addis Ababa’s Piassa neighborhood has had a profound impact on the distribution of Ethiopian films. A beloved and affordable government-run cinema, the Empire was a cultural institution that catered to the masses, providing a platform for the community to come together to watch films at low price. Located in the heart of Piassa, the Empire Cinema was not just a cinema but a symbol of the neighborhood’s rich cultural heritage, where generations of Ethiopians associated the place with the magic of cinema. “For decades, the Empire Cinema was the go-to destination for film enthusiasts, a melting pot where people from all walks of life gathered to watch Ethiopian films, fostering a sense of community and cultural pride. Its loss has not only deprived the community of a historical landmark but also disrupted one of the remaining platforms where Ethiopian filmmakers could showcase their work to a diverse and enthusiastic audience.”

The Empire and the Ambassador Cinemas both show local films. Private cinemas like Alem Cinema, Century Cinema, and Eliana Cinema remain active and popular among viewers to watch both local and international films. Recently, Beza Hailu Lemma and Bandamlak Yimenu’s Videobet Cinema, a new screening space, emerged as a beloved hub for independent films, showcasing local and international works, including short films. “Video Bet”, as Haile said, “has become a vibrant community space where audiences can connect, watch, and discuss films with filmmakers. This demonstrates that despite numerous challenges in Ethiopia’s cinema landscape, there are passionate filmmakers and investors with a vision to innovate and develop the industry, ensuring that the culture of film viewing continues to thrive.”

The ongoing demolitions have  been framed as a “modernization” act. Haile argues to the contrary. For him, the ongoing demolition is not modernization but its opposite. Cinema, by design, is inherently a symbol of progress, culture, and development. By bringing people together, fostering new ideas, and advancing the industry, it represents the modernization of society. Thus, any act that destroys or undermines it inadvertently goes against the very essence of modernization. “Framing this demolition as “modernization” is misleading. True modernization involves investing in infrastructure, supporting creative industries, and preserving cultural heritage. Destroying historic cinemas and cutting off spaces for film and culture doesn’t modernize a country; it sets it back. It’s a step backward, not forward.”

As highlighted, the demolition of the Empire Cinema is destructive for the Ethiopian film community and industry. As the country’s oldest cinema, it holds a special place in Ethiopia’s cultural history. Its loss is not just the disappearance of a building, but the erasure of a historic symbol that has contributed to the country’s cultural scene and the development of its film industry. For Ethiopian filmmakers, it represented a legacy and a source of inspiration, and its demolition has created an unsettling sense of disconnection from their contributions to national culture. The destructive acts also show how apart filmmakers, industry professionals, and the government are. This rift creates uncertainty and a lack of guarantees about the future. “It fosters fear and diminishes hope among filmmakers, especially in a context where the film industry remains fragile without proper policies or governmental infrastructure support. The industry cannot thrive without a clear and supportive framework, and losing such a historic venue underscores the urgent need for policy intervention.”

The government’s beautification and infrastructure projects aim to modernize the country’s capital by replacing dilapidated structures with luxury commercial hubs and elevated pedestrian walkways, but what’s missing from this supposed noble act is cross-industry conversation and representation amongst Ethiopian filmmakers, industry players, and the government. The absence of a dialogue, as Haile has diagnosed, hints at how aloof the government is towards its film industry and by extension creative economy. Sadly, the history that Empire Cinema and others like it holds has been buried. Going forward, it’s important that the government opens a dialogue channel where Ethiopian filmmakers can be assured of a future.