In her feature film debut, Noha Adel plays on her audience’s morbid fascination with watching painfully outrageous social situations that are always one step away from broad comedy. Spring Came Laughing (also translated as Spring Came on Laughing) is a brash send-up of snooty, pretentious, loud-mouthed wives, widows and brides-to-be whose entanglements with men (rarely seen or heard) are the source of social embarrassment and anguish, often culminating in public hysterics. This fiery feast of drama queens and princesses represented Egypt in the Cairo International Film Festival’s main competition, revealing a bold choice on the programmers’ part to focus the spotlight on a younger generation of filmmakers.
The film’s strong point is its dramatization of out-of-control situations through rapid-fire, non-stop dialogue, putting Adel’s considerable powers as a screenwriter to the fore. The camera appears to have one job only: to capture the emotions of the women onscreen, and there is little esthetic deviation from filming their faces. Also rather unique is the mood of the film, which is generally angry, thanks to one bad apple at every gathering who feels compelled provoke the others and cause trouble, setting off rising tensions that always seem on the verge of bursting into comedy – yet they rarely do.
Given the theatrical-style dramatics, which entail an ensemble cast out-talking and out-shouting each other in overlapping dialogue, it is surprising to learn that the excellent actors are all non-pros. They convey extreme emotions with extraordinary naturalness and are the icing on the cake of this unconventional, rule-breaking first film.
The only constants of the four tales are cats and flowery foliage that form a sort of reappearing motif and story break. The first episode, called simply “June”, begins mid-stream with 60-ish Salma (Sally Abdo), a widow living with her divorced daughter Reem and her grandkids in a lovely garden apartment, welcoming into her home Mokhtar and his 70-ish father Shady, who also lives in the building. They have found and brought back Reem’s lost cat and Reem has stayed home to thank them. Suddenly Mokhtar blurts out that the real reason they’ve come is to propose that Salma marry his father. This strikes Reem as preposterous, and in the uproar that follows, terrible things are said in the most hurtful ways possible. With the revelation that Reem was seeing Mokhtar, a married man, in Dubai, and the discovery that she has been looking into old age homes to plant her mother so she can sell the apartment, all hell breaks loose. Only Shady and Salma retain some mote of dignity
Next comes “May”, perhaps the most delirious episode. It is set in a trendy restaurant where the well-preserved Zazu (Rahab Anan) is having a birthday lunch with her girlfriends. Across the table sits the catty, ill-intentioned Wessam, who “innocently” asks Zazu how it feels to turn 50. This sets off remarks on white hair and Botox, and the “silicon butt” of the restaurant manager. But the real fuse is lit when Wessem hints that she knows of a woman, whose shall remain nameless, whose husband married a Syrian woman as his second wife without consulting her. Zazu looks increasingly uncomfortable. The explosion of vulgarities that follows is less funny than excruciatingly painful to watch, not only because of the scandal the racy language creates in the restaurant, but because Zazu is so obviously a soul in torment.
“April” takes place in the close confines of a hairdresser’s salon frequented by middle-class ladies. Whereas earlier the camera flitted back and forth on the faces lined up around the table, here the lighting is bright and the lens swivels around the room from the hairdressers to their upscale clients. The sultry Mrs. Mayada (Roka Yasser) is giving everybody a hard time with her royal ways and absurd demands. She turns into a screaming shrew when she thinks her multi-diamond ring has been stolen, then she locks the door and insists everyone be searched. The class divide is a background issue in every story, but here it takes center stage, with Mrs. Mayada distinguishing between “decent women” (the wealthy clients) and the dirty thieving class of working women (the hairdressers).
Finally in “March” the understated hypocrisy of middle-class relationships explodes into the open. Lili (Carol Ackad) is getting married. Surrounded by a makeup artist, a photographer and a bevy of chattering bridesmaids, she is in ecstasy – until her mother starts criticizing her for choosing the curly-haired Kawthar as a bridesmaid, despite the fact she is divorced. The argument ebbs and flows until it spirals into tears and hysterics, and Lili makes a final, terrible revelation to a compassionate stranger.
And yet the film is filled with much laughter and fun and lots of singing. Much conversation revolves around the infectious traditional songs everybody seems to know by heart, and there is a sense that in matters of the heart, the great old Egyptian singers have been there before.
All the technical work is simple but pleasurable, but the standout credit is Ahmed Aboulsaad’s rather dazzling sound mix of women’s voices talking all at once.
Director, screenplay: Noha Adel
Producers: Kawthar Younis, Ahmed Youssef
Coproducer: Laura Nikolov
Cast: Sally Abdo Mokhtar Younis, Shady Hakim, Rahab Anan, Wessam Salah, Reem El-Aqqad, Roka Yasser, Carol Ackad, Mona Elnamoury, Kawthar Younis
Cinematography: Sara Yehia
Art direction: Salma Taimour
Costume design: Moushira El Fahham
Editing: Sara Abd Allah
Sound design and mix: Ahmed Aboulsaad
Production company: Kayak Films
Venue: Cairo International Film Festival International Competition)
In Arabic
98 minutes
