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Dedicated to "all the Egyptian movie makers and artists' fight for democracy." Behind and before the camera, Youssef Chahine's ruminative soft-shoe. The director has his protégé (Amr Abdulgalil), an intimate stand-in, a reluctant Hamlet. Together the two brave the Berlin Film Festival ceremony ("An old pro shaking like a debutante!") and celebrate with a musical interlude (studio-street and artificial snow, "Walkin' My Baby Back Home," Donenesque cranes). Remembrances, daydreams, productions. The Alexander the Great epic has the hunky star chewing bubblegum under the Hellenic helmet, the search for feet beautiful enough for the triumvir's effigy in Antony and Cleopatra leads to the actress-activist (Yousra). Rehearsals and demonstrations provide figures for the auteur's gaze. "So I'm just the maestro's mirror?" Artistic statement, political essay, romantic confession, all play to the wry, spry Chahine. The wife (Menha Batraoui) is promised a mink coat out of the awards show, the portly trouper (Taheyya Kariokka) is good company during the hunger strike. English for structure, Arabic for witty dialogue and French for love scenes, how a screenplay comes together. Godard's Passion, Fellini's Intervista... Undercranked slapstick alternates with solemn perorations, genres shift as quickly as the cinematic mind allows—behind-the-scenes drama and historical spoof, a pinch of documentary at the feast and a splash of horror at the museum. ("Miracles," outsiders say, but the filmmaker knows it's just hard work.) Shakespeare the guiding light, toujours, actors and words to craft an image or an emotion. Antic and quizzical, Chahine stays true to his song: "Let love be your guide to this wondrous revelation." With Hussein Fahmy, Hesham Selim, Huda Sultan, and Seif Abdelrahman.
--- Fernando F. Croce |