Azerbaijanis seek words for identity On a hot afternoon on the outskirts of Baku, two paunchy, middle-aged men are trying their best to act like a pair of hunky Italian heartthrobs. Conjuring up the romantic atmosphere of the continent, the actors appear momentarily transported from their setting - a cramped studio the size of a closet. Buongiorno! becomes the tongue-twisting her vakhtiniz kheyir. Grazie is replaced by the more guttural teshekkur. The two actors are dubbing an Italian film at the studios of the small oil nation's public broadcasting company. The scene is about to become a familiar one. In an attempt to force the young country to form a national identity and create cohesion in a multilingual population, the government has made its dubbing and film industry a matter of national priority - viewers and critics be damned. Under new rules, the country's nine national television channels are now only allowed to show films shot or dubbed in the local language. Any television series that the stations air must now be Azerbaijani from start to finish, meaning viewers have had to forgo their favourite imported soap operas, which are now banned from the national stations. It is a drastic measure for a country whose population of 9m is roughly the size of Chicago's. Most Azerbaijanis speak just as good Russian or Turkish as they do the local tongue and have grown accustomed to watching high-quality dubbings in those languages. But the government sees the new measures as a key part of cementing Azerbaijan's post-Soviet identity. Twenty years after gaining independence, the country is booming, thanks to vast energy riches which have transformed Baku, the capital, into a sparkling rival to Dubai and increasingly high profile international events such as last month's Eurovision Song Contest. Yet, like other post-Soviet states, Azerbaijan is still struggling to establish its own national identity - a key part of which is language. "It's not good that some [local] people know Russian better than Azerbaijani," says Nushiravan Maharramov, chairman of Azerbaijan's national television and radio council, the regulator that established the new rules. If they knew their native language and then switched to Russian that would be understandable. But they know their native language very poorly. They think only in Russian, they write only in Russian, it's not good. While Azerbaijani, a Turkic language, is the only official language of the country, only about a quarter of the country's children attend Azerbaijani-language schools, the rest preferring to study at Russian, Turkish or English ones. Mr Maharramov points out that viewers who miss their imported shows and Russian and Turkish-language films can still watch them on cable television but this has done little to mollify some. "I don't watch the national channels now because of the dubbing," says Vusala Ismailova, a teacher, as she strolls through the centre of Baku with her young child. As for the locally produced television and film content: "The actors aren't actors but cheap singers," she sniffs. Dubbing has improved a lot in Azerbaijan. But it is my personal opinion that it is always best to watch in the original Fuzuli Ismayilov, dubbing director Mr Maharramov says he hears daily from housewives complaining that they miss an imported Bollywood drama. His own wife, he admits, has a weakness for Turkish soap operas - something she can now watch only on cable stations. Despite this, he is confident that history will be on his side. Even in the economic sphere, sometimes such laws, such decisions have to be taken. Look at grain production," he says. Sometimes to stimulate local production you need to close the borders. At the studios of Azerbaijan's public television and radio broadcasting company, the site of the Italian film dubbing, a team of actors and translators is moving into high gear to meet demand for dubbed films and TV series. Memmedbagir Akhundov, a video editor and self-professed Anglophile, has a desk piled with Hollywood films that the channel is considering dubbing, with titles ranging from Kung Fu Panda to Lord of War. Bruce Willis and Robert De Niro are the audience's favourite actors, he says. The channel started producing its own films three years ago and has since made about 100. Fuzuli Ismayilov, the station's dubbing director, says his favourite is a comedy called Pumpkin, a film which centres on two neighbours arguing over a pumpkin that has grown both their gardens - a theme that hits close to home. Azerbaijan has been fighting with Armenia over a disputed territory for the past 20 years, while tensions are also brewing with neighbour Iran. The channel has enjoyed success with dubbings of Oliver Twist and the James Bond films but Mr Ismayilov admits that it is hard to satisfy Azerbaijani viewers. Sometimes jokes get lost in translation and sometimes the Russian version of a word is so ubiquitous that teenagers do not even know the Azerbaijani equivalent. "Over the past 20 years dubbing has improved a lot in Azerbaijan," says Fuzuli Ismayilov, the station's dubbing director. But it is my personal opinion that it is always best to watch it in the original.