The Arab-American community complains that we see few representations of Arab men here besides the terrorists or thugs who have become the default villains in action movies and military-style television series like "24." But images of Arab women are nonexistent — they’re either wrapped in robes or not there at all. So it will please that special-interest group now that there’s an Arab chick flick in the theater, with gorgeous, sympathetic Arab women who have issues with romance and identity that any woman can relate to. That should make them happy, shouldn’t it? We’ll see.
The Lebanese selection for best Foreign Language Film category at the Oscars, "Caramel" is a charming romantic comedy with a sharp edge that manages to present a pointed critique of the place women fill in the Arab world, even in an emancipated and modern society such as Lebanon. The women in the film — all stunningly beautiful and none of them professional actresses — have to navigate a culture that tries to keep them in their place and under control in a thousand ways.
Set in Beirut, the movie focuses on a group of women of different ages who frequent a ramshackle beauty parlor. The owner, Layale, played by the film’s young director and screenwriter Nadine Labaki, is having an affair with a married man. Layale is a Christian, like most of the characters, but of course that doesn’t affect the fact that she’s desperately in love with Rabih. An unseen charmer, he pulls up in front of the shop — presumably when he has a free hour — and honks for her to come out.
Scenes from ‘Caramel,’ directed by Natine Labaki. Photos courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
Her friend and fellow hairdresser Nisrine rolls her eyes when Layale goes running out, but with a sense of understanding rather than disapproval. Nisrine has her own problems. A Muslim, she’s engaged to be married, but her fiancé doesn’t’ know that she isn’t a virgin. Nisrine carefully rolls down her sleeves and buttons her blouse over her tight camisole when she and her boyfriend visit his family, and we understand everything about a woman’s role in a Lebanese Muslim household from that scene. The women literally fight over who can do more to serve the men at the table. The scene is funny and good-natured, but it makes its point.
Rima is the other woman who works in the shop, and she’s a different type altogether. Dressed in loose jeans rather than the tight, revealing clothes of the other young women, Rima is clearly a lesbian, although it’s uncertain if she knows. Sneaking glances at pretty girls on the bus, she seems uncomfortable in her own body. When an unfamiliar woman comes into the shop for a shampoo, Rima is powerfully smitten.
Several other women have major roles in the film as well, and their stories are told with the same warmth and genuineness as the women in the salon. Although there is absolutely no feminist rhetoric in "Caramel," there is a powerful sense of sisterhood, of the emotional bonds that form between women wherever they may live — in a Arab country with its long history of oppression, in America where a woman can earn women’s votes by showing a little of what’s behind the mask, and in Israel, a country that’s both modern and Middle Eastern in its attitude toward women.
The title of the film refers to the method of hair removal popular in Lebanon. Instead of wax, Layale cooks up caramel, cools it slightly, and then uses it to remove body hair. Offering a special on this sugar waxing, she lures her lover’s wife to the salon, just so she can see her competition. Rather than being creepy, this scene underscores the poignant situation of the two women, desperately trying to please the man they both love. The need of all the women in "Caramel" to please the men in their lives — most of whom are sensitive and well-meaning — is what gives the film its affecting quality. For these women, life without marriage or love is unthinkable, and they’ll go to any lengths — trickery, deceit, surgery — to keep themselves desirable and acceptable to men. Their only power is in their bodies, and that’s why the beauty salon becomes the symbol of their oppression as well as their strength.
"Caramel" opens in New York on
Jan. 25.
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