Competing in Cannes’ Critics Week, Nada Riyadh and Ayman El Amir’s documentary The Brink of Dreams takes to the male-dominated streets of the village of Bersha, Minya, in southern Egypt.
Bersha rarely makes the headlines in Egypt, unless there is an attack against the Coptic Christian community by radicals. In The Brink of Dreams, the audience is invited to follow an all-female theater troupe who, against all odds, are determined to practice their art and express their aspirations, disturbing many patriarchal structures in a conservative Coptic Orthodox community.
Members of The Panorama Bersha all-female theater troupe are not your ordinary teen improv enthusiasts trying to get over stage fright and forgetting their lines; they are a group of young women forced into adulthood as they defy several decades of patriarchal structures.
The six protags roam the streets of the town, advertising their show and calling on women, children and men to come and watch them. Their performance combines improv, acting and storytelling that is deeply embedded in Egyptian culture, comedy and activism. But again, their activism is different.
Out of the six, the film closely follows Haidi Sameh who is more of a dancer, despite being denied ballet training; Monika who never backs down from a chance to sing in public, despite having been told she has a manly voice; and Majda Masoud, who is the dynamic leading character, directing and motivating the troupe despite constant bullying from her brother.
The troupe writes songs and performances to combat early marriage and call for the freedom to marry the person you love, and the liberty to walk down the street in dresses, unbothered.
“My body is not a sin” they sing in one street performance close to the neighborhood shop. They chant as the locals gather around them, and women secretly peek from their windows, and men smile in disbelief with some unpleasant looks. Some of the audience react positively, while others yell “this is shameful” and leave.
But the show goes on. A performer yells, “The harasser is always wrong!”, pointing out the unfortunate tendency to blame women for sexual harassment. One of the performances puts society on trial to address the misfortunes of the characters. Forced and early marriage are condemned, the victims speak out and the perpetrators, whether they are the family or the community, are called out.
The filmmakers’ presence is almost never felt as the story unfolds, indicating Riyadh and El Amir did a lot of research to gain the confidence of the non-pro actors and their families and to film in their homes. They capture several intimate moments and discussions. The feeling of voyeurism is faint in this documentary, as the film crew becomes the silent number seven in the group, colorfully capturing the beauty of the troupe’s successes and the melancholy of their defeats.
Hard as it is to film in the streets of Egypt (an effort and risk that should pointed out), the fine camerawork of Dina El Zeneiny, Ahmed Ismail and Ayman El Amir beautifully portrays the houses and faces of Coptic people in Egypt without kitsch, highlighting the beauty while evincing the sheer underdevelopment many locals live in.
For the troupe, performing is not the only challenge. Rehearsing is also a hassle for members of The Panorama Bersha. But they are determined to work with anything: an empty space in a unfinished building or a rooftop with steel sticking out of the concrete.
In addition to physically defying their families and the judgmental looks of the locals by performing and speaking up about the problems women face, the actors use another weapon perfected by Egyptians: sarcasm. Close to the banks of the Nile, they sit on the ground in a circle and do improv as an exercise to express what their families and close circles think of their performances. They mock these voices, celebrating the moments where they can stomp on them.
One of the performers, Monica, is a particularly talented and funny performer and the constant trouble-maker in the troupe, who always responds by singing. Full of energy and enthusiasm, she even uses singing to counter her insecurity when people tell her that her voice is “manly”.
This enthusiasm is challenged and at some point broken when each girl is subjected to a different kind of patriarchal control, imposed by a brother, father, fiancé or husband, or even verbally abusive mothers or female neighbours who shame them.
These are difficult, even cringeworthy scenes to watch, as the filmmakers document raw dialogues between the girls and male family members. The worst is between Haidi and her fiancé who clearly is trying to exercise control by forcing her to quit the troupe and focus on being a wife. Off camera, he calls her a slut.
Nevertheless, The Brink of Dreams is not defeatist, but rather acknowledges how tough it is for young women in this environment to pursue their dreams. Further, it gives agency to those who choose different paths and does not judge them. For example, Majda choses to make her way to Cairo (though only a few hours away, it feels like a foreign country) to apply for entrance to the Performing Arts Academy to study acting, while her friend Haidi, the daughter of Domyana Nassar, who played the lead in the Omar El Zohairy’s film Feathers (2021), choses to continue her relationship with her controlling fiancé.
Directors, producers, screenplay: Nada Riyadh, Ayman El Amir
Co-producers: Marc Irmer, Claire Chassagne, Mette-Ann Schepelern
With: Majda Masoud, Haidi Sameh, Monika Youssef
Cinematography: Dina El Zeneiny, Ahmed Ismail, Ayman El Amir
Music: Ahmad El Sawy
Editing: Véronique Lagoarde-Ségot, Ahmed Magdy, Ayman El Amir, Nada Riyadh
Production companies: Dolce Vita Films, Magma Film & TV, Felucca Films (EG)
Sales: The Party Film Sales
Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Critics Week)
In Arabic
102 minutes
