Hawaii (2010)

Directed by: Ibrahim El-Batout | 112 minutes | drama | Actors: Mahmouod Abodoma, Rina Aref, Hany El Dakak, Sherief El Desouky, Mirette El Hariry, Waguih El Lagany, Mohamed El Sayed, Ibrahim El-Batout, Fady Eskandar, Abdel Fattah Hussein, Saeed Kabeel, Mark Lotfy, Ayman Massoud, Perry Moataz, Mohamed Nabil, Khaled Raafat, Mahmoud Siam, Ahmed Soliman, Toussy, Hanan Youssef

Ibrahim El Batout is a pioneer in the Egyptian film world. As one of the first filmmakers from his country, he works completely independently on his oeuvre. He does this in a remarkably sober way: with minimal resources and outside the official channels. He films on existing locations, his actors are well-meaning amateurs, there is hardly a script. El Batout is not concerned with how much money his films cost, but whether his message got through. Because atmosphere is more important to him than a straightforward story, he is dependent on the patience and benevolence of his audience to pick up his message. ‘Hawi’ (2010), his third film, is a largely improvised mosaic tale in which El Batout introduces us to a number of Alexandria residents who, at first sight, have little in common. They all try to find a balance: on the one hand they struggle with everyday life, on the other hand they cling to their dreams and ideals. The title of the film does not mean ‘juggling’ or ‘juggling’ for nothing – these people try to get through the day with a lot of art and flying.

They all do that in their own way. And so we get acquainted with a cross-section of the population of a metropolis. In the opening we see how Youssef (Mohamed El Sayed) is released from prison, on the condition that he delivers a pile of important documents to the judiciary within ten days. It is never clear what these documents are. Ibrahim (director El Batout himself) lived for years in France, but now returns to Alexandria where he visits his sister (Hanan Youssef) and tries to make contact with his adult daughter Aya (Perry Moataz), although she is not allowed to know that he is his son. a father. Jafaar (Sherief El Desouky) is so lonely that he doesn’t know what to do when his only friend, his horse, is dying. The eccentric Hanan (Rina Aref) tries to build a career as a belly dancer, but is taunted and mocked from all sides for that choice. Not all characters are immediately clear about their mutual relationship, but it is clear that they share something – namely the hope and will to make something of their not always easy life.

Yet that is precisely where the shoe pinches; in bringing the characters together. In the last twenty to twenty-five minutes, all kinds of puzzle pieces are quickly put into place, without the viewer getting any satisfaction from it. Then El Batout could perhaps have left the mutual connections even better in the middle and focused more sharply on an atmospheric sketch of the melancholy and anonymity of the Egyptian metropolis of Alexandria. Then he wouldn’t have had to ‘circulate’ his story, as it were, because that he does now feels forced. ‘Hawi’ is strongest when El Batout focuses on the abuses in modern Egyptian society. For example, the inequality between men and women. The most powerful and at the same time most shocking scene is where Hanan, who has just been robbed and assaulted in the street, is called a rotten fish by the officer on duty at the police station and humiliated simply because she earns a living as a belly dancer. Hanan fights back bravely, but the deep humiliation is palpable. The cop’s hypocrisy oozes from it, especially when we see him in the audience at one of Hanan’s performances not much later.

Unfortunately, ‘Hawi’ has too few such penetrating scenes, so that the entanglements of the characters never become compelling. There is no doubt that El Batout made his film with the best intentions, and that he put his whole heart and soul into it. But the film falls short both narratively and visually. Characters don’t fully blossom, where some deserved. There is definitely a message hidden in ‘Hawi’, too bad it doesn’t stand out.