Bar Bahar (2016)

Directed by: Maysaloun Hamoud | 96 minutes | drama | Actors: Mouna Hawa, Sana Jammelieh, Shaden Kanboura, Mahmud Shalaby, Rojeh Khleif, Amir Khoury, Firas Nassar, Samar Qupty, Bashar Salameh, Eyad Sheety, Riyad Sliman

A chain smoking temptress; a lesbian DJ and a devout Muslim ICT student share a house: it sounds like the beginning of a silly joke, but it is the setting of the Tel Aviv, Israel, film ‘Bar Bahar’, by the Palestinian-Hungarian director Maysaloun Hamoud. The beautiful Laila (Mouna Hawa) is an ambitious lawyer by day and turns into a drinking and sniffing debaucher at night. With that lifestyle, she has left her Muslim family behind. She shares an apartment in Tel Aviv with the lesbian Salma (Sana Jammelieh), who comes from a conservative Arab-Christian environment, who works as a cook, DJ and barkeeper and lights one joint with another during her search. When the third room in their apartment becomes vacant because roommate Rafif is getting married, his niece Nour (Shaden Kanboura) moves in, who comes to study computer science. Laila and Salma are surprised when Nour turns out to be a devout, headscarf, engaged Muslim woman. But their prejudices turn out to be wrong.

The versatile film moves back and forth between social drama, soap and an Arabic version of Girls, but remains credible due to the topical dialogues, recognizability of the locations in Tel Aviv and the natural acting of the three leading women. In the lives of the young women, choices have to be made with potentially far-reaching consequences, but ‘Bar Bahar’ never becomes sentimental. Their quest unfolds on the basis of the three divergent love lives and against a background full of cultural clashes. Because despite their differing views on marriage and relationships, the three protagonists are indeed looking for love.

Laila has no shortage of male attention, but don’t let most men believe in the illusion for long. A flirtation with a Jewish colleague keeps them cynically at bay. “Habibi, you don’t think we’ll do the Palestinian folk dance together, do you?” Then she meets the handsome Ziad, who also traded his pious life for work as a cinematographer in his case. He is visibly enchanted by Laila’s appearance and her autonomy and the two find each other in recognizable pasts and a liberal now. But after the deepest crush dies, Laila realizes he may not be as progressive as she thought.

Salma has not yet told her conservative parents about her sexual orientation and decides to take the plunge when she meets the beautiful medical student Dunya. Salma brings her to the family home just as a meeting with a potential suitor is due. Nour is in a similarly awkward situation. Whenever her strictly religious fiancée comes by, she hastily clears out all the unwelcome attributes (especially many ashtrays) and lovingly cooks the tastiest meals. Her fiancé doesn’t like the lifestyle of her new housemates in the least and he tries everything he can to prevent his future wife from falling into the clutches of the wicked women. In the end, it turns out that her biggest threat is not her roommates, but Nour’s fiancé herself. Salma and Nour’s situations start out giggly but end in big dramas. The entire film strikes a clever balance between those two sides of life; that is the great merit of Hamoud, who also wrote the screenplay himself.

More than a quest for love, the women’s story is a quest for freedom. Striking is the symbolic role of the women’s hair, and to a lesser extent the clothing. The different costumes speak volumes: the voluptuous and wild curls and ditto clothing of Laila, covered by a headscarf at Nour and sleek, nonchalant and alternative at Salma.

The English title, ‘In Between’, fits in nicely with Laila, Salma and Nour. As uncomfortable as it is to live ‘between two worlds’, between the modern and the traditional; the religious and the secular; the women show that it is indeed possible. In the city they decide on their own lifestyle and way. In Tel Aviv, everyone lives somewhere in between – the past and the future, for example – witness the dialogue between Laila and Ziad when they first meet. “What brings you to this city?” Laila asks. “Life,” Ziad replies. “Just like most people here.” With that he hits the nail on the head; Tel Aviv is where people live, study, work, make love, discover and party. Also by women. If that seems like a political statement, it is only so in the eyes of those who want to see it. Just like the movie itself.

‘Bar Bahar’ director Hamoud did not give a damn. The critical reactions from the Islamic world culminated in a fatwa that she was called upon: the first Palestinian in seventy years. Devout Muslims did not like the way Islam is portrayed and found the film haram and unsuitable for female spectators. Hamoud could not have wished for clearer proof of the urgency and reality of the film, she says. Nevertheless, ‘Bar Bahar’, which has been well received internationally and has won several awards, is not a political statement or anti-religious pamphlet. It is, however, a sensitive, feminist ode to life.