previously published on Asian Movie Pulse
Mohamed Diab is an Egyptian screenwriter and filmmaker and the mastermind behind the lauded films like “Cairo 678” (2010) and slightly gimmicky “Clash” (2016) that is completely set inside a police van during the riots. His latest work “Amira” (2021), done in the co-production arrangement of three countries (Egypt, Jordan and United Arab Emirates), while set in Gaza Strip, also came with significant festival reputation (it premiered at Venice) and several awards (most significantly from Rome International Film Festival). Most recently, it was screened at Osaka Asian Film Festival.
The titular character played by Tara Abboud is a teenage girl interested in photography who thinks she can be sure of her roots. Her father Nawar (Ali Suliman, glimpsed in a number of Middle Eastern and international films), whom she dutifully visits in the notorious Meggido prison in Israel (where he serves the life sentence for terrorism) has the status of a Palestinian freedom fighter. Nawar’s family takes care of Amira and her mother Warda (Saba Mubarak), so they enjoy a relatively pleasant life, given the circumstances, of course.
However, everything turns upside down when Nawar and Warda decide to have the second child by the means of artificial insemination (Amira was also conceived that way) when the complete clan learns that he is sterile. That puts Amira in an awkward position and her mother in a dangerous one, while the questions arise. Was Warda unfaithful to Nawar, which would give his family the cause to disown and maybe even execute her? If so, who was her partner in the act of infidelity? Or was it all the consequence of a more sinister practice done by an unknown Israeli prison guard, who switched the sperm samples, making Amira the (biological) child of the enemy? In a heated situation, it is hard to keep calm and collected, and our protagonist feels the pressure to act somehow to prove herself worthy.
“Amira” is the type of film that screams to be taken seriously, but the viewers would be better off if they resisted that urge. The drama of the film that touches the topics of the personal and collective identity, patriarchy and the life under the occupation feels constructed. On top of that, it is actually quite hard for the viewers to sympathize with the titular protagonist due to her narrow world-view in which she favors her “heroic” father whom she has only seen through the prison glass over her devoted mother even when she is in grave peril.
The problem is in script that shows more interest in national than in personal trauma. Diab tries to correct it a bit with his directing that is functional in the way it uses the hand-held camerawork by Ahmed Gabr, with occasional poetic touches, especially when it comes to the use of lighting to dictate the mood. One particular scene, that of the phone sex between the spouses, particularly stands out for its gentleness. But all the “stylishness” of the film also feels calculated and tailored for the film festival audiences.
The trouble with the script is also reflected in the rigid dialogue that feels declamatory even when spoken out by the most natural and the most skilled actors. On the other hand, Tara Abboud is quite expressive in the non-verbal department, Saba Mubarak’s presence is dignified to the level of martyrdom and sainthood, and Ali Suliman is capable to carry the role of the imprisoned and troubled Nawar. Among the rest of the cast, Suhaib Nashwan is a stand-out as Amira’s boyfriend Ziad.
In the end, “Amira” as the film becomes the victim of its grand ambition, just as Amira as the character is a victim of her “grand” conviction. If it were more personal and less of a political statement, it would be more powerful on both of the fronts. Too bad it feels like a missed opportunity.
