The ammunition is there: a 'sweet' film revolving around several young to middle aged women living their lives, warts 'n' all, in a film entitled 'Caramel'. The dismissive headlines labelling the film syrupy and sugar coated just write themselves. How pleasing then, that the film is anything but; and acts as a stark eye-opener that films of this ilk can come from certain parts of the world that are war torn and less than brimming with a rich and popular film industry. In fact, Lebanese film Caramel practically shelves the idea of a war-torn nation and instead delves deep inside the nation with the city of Beruit specifically cut open, laying bare the people within it. And not just any people; five or so women of varying ages with varying problems and facing varying situations. How refreshing that the film prefers to detail woman-hood in this secluded and prior to this film, shut off designated region.
The first thing that strikes me after some further research is just how inexperienced the cast is. Perhaps this was deliberate from female director Nadine Labaki, who herself stars in the film. Perhaps she is aiming for one of those ultra-realistic portrayals of life within by enlisting nobody actors essentially hired to play themselves as women of the nation, age and consequently generation that they are. The women in question are Layale (Labaki), who works in a beauty salon along with two other women, Nisrine (Al Masri) and Rima (Moukarzel). The situations each respective women face are that Layale is stuck in a dead-end relationship with a married man; Nisrine has already slept with a man but is set to be married within the Arab world, in which pre-marital sex is not accepted while Rima is finding herself more and more attracted to women.
What I find quite fitting given these characters and the consequent breaking down of imagery is the fact that early on, one character looks at themselves in a mirror within the beauty parlour, and makes a fuss over how 'pretty' she's supposed to look. It's this recognition of what people are 'supposed' to be or how the world demands they look when, in actual fact, free choice and individuality should rule over anything else. We are, after all, looking at characters who are either: attracted to the same gender as they are; have gone against ancient tradition by having sex before marriage with the other one daring to threaten already established relationships by being attracted to another married man.
So the study, and the identification of it, is put across very early on and in sly, rather comic fashion. From here, the film branches out into what is essentially a brooding drama with subtle hints of romance. This is no definitive genre piece with a specific arc, more a statement or a documentation of lives lived in a specific place by those whom should know what it's like to live them. The sense of authority is most definitely prominent. A policeman gives someone a parking ticket, but is challenged and struggles somewhat by the woman that does so; someone else is pulled over for not wearing a seat-belt and two people are arrested for sitting in a car talking to one another. Two things crop up here: firstly, the director's sense that this is a minute study of a specific subject and the sense that everything comes under the light for examination, even the smallest things as would-be contemporary women living in Lebanon are broken down. Secondly, the sense of a dominant force – a presence that will clamp down on you in this life if you so much as ever so slightly slip up.
But director Nadine Labaki is so assured of her subject matter and her overall project, she sprinkles in supporting characters in the shape of Jamale (Aouad), a regular customer at the salon who dreams of being an actress as well as Rose (Haddad), a tailor with a shop next to the salon, who is an old woman that has devoted her life to taking care of her mentally unbalanced older sister Lili (Semaan). These characters are developed to their own degree, Lili and Rose in particular acting as members of an 'older guard', or generation gone by now practically restricted to their indoor place of work, as they meet and greet a Frenchman that frequents their place of business on a regular basis.
Layal, throughout this film, practically looks like Penelope Cruz's character out of 2006 effort Volver; a film that Caramel shares themes and ideas with. She hits upon the idea of using actual caramel as a wax; as a means of stripping away what is required. It is, indeed, the title of the film and acts somewhat neatly as the analogy for the film. That is, that the caramel is used to strip away certain things and the 'Caramel' that is the film acts as a stripping away of layers allowing us to look at contemporary Lebanese women. Caramel is an observed film; a film that creeps up on you in its study and leaves a nicely nourished feeling afterwards.
The first thing that strikes me after some further research is just how inexperienced the cast is. Perhaps this was deliberate from female director Nadine Labaki, who herself stars in the film. Perhaps she is aiming for one of those ultra-realistic portrayals of life within by enlisting nobody actors essentially hired to play themselves as women of the nation, age and consequently generation that they are. The women in question are Layale (Labaki), who works in a beauty salon along with two other women, Nisrine (Al Masri) and Rima (Moukarzel). The situations each respective women face are that Layale is stuck in a dead-end relationship with a married man; Nisrine has already slept with a man but is set to be married within the Arab world, in which pre-marital sex is not accepted while Rima is finding herself more and more attracted to women.
What I find quite fitting given these characters and the consequent breaking down of imagery is the fact that early on, one character looks at themselves in a mirror within the beauty parlour, and makes a fuss over how 'pretty' she's supposed to look. It's this recognition of what people are 'supposed' to be or how the world demands they look when, in actual fact, free choice and individuality should rule over anything else. We are, after all, looking at characters who are either: attracted to the same gender as they are; have gone against ancient tradition by having sex before marriage with the other one daring to threaten already established relationships by being attracted to another married man.
So the study, and the identification of it, is put across very early on and in sly, rather comic fashion. From here, the film branches out into what is essentially a brooding drama with subtle hints of romance. This is no definitive genre piece with a specific arc, more a statement or a documentation of lives lived in a specific place by those whom should know what it's like to live them. The sense of authority is most definitely prominent. A policeman gives someone a parking ticket, but is challenged and struggles somewhat by the woman that does so; someone else is pulled over for not wearing a seat-belt and two people are arrested for sitting in a car talking to one another. Two things crop up here: firstly, the director's sense that this is a minute study of a specific subject and the sense that everything comes under the light for examination, even the smallest things as would-be contemporary women living in Lebanon are broken down. Secondly, the sense of a dominant force – a presence that will clamp down on you in this life if you so much as ever so slightly slip up.
But director Nadine Labaki is so assured of her subject matter and her overall project, she sprinkles in supporting characters in the shape of Jamale (Aouad), a regular customer at the salon who dreams of being an actress as well as Rose (Haddad), a tailor with a shop next to the salon, who is an old woman that has devoted her life to taking care of her mentally unbalanced older sister Lili (Semaan). These characters are developed to their own degree, Lili and Rose in particular acting as members of an 'older guard', or generation gone by now practically restricted to their indoor place of work, as they meet and greet a Frenchman that frequents their place of business on a regular basis.
Layal, throughout this film, practically looks like Penelope Cruz's character out of 2006 effort Volver; a film that Caramel shares themes and ideas with. She hits upon the idea of using actual caramel as a wax; as a means of stripping away what is required. It is, indeed, the title of the film and acts somewhat neatly as the analogy for the film. That is, that the caramel is used to strip away certain things and the 'Caramel' that is the film acts as a stripping away of layers allowing us to look at contemporary Lebanese women. Caramel is an observed film; a film that creeps up on you in its study and leaves a nicely nourished feeling afterwards.