Movie Night

How many times have I promised you, dear Dorothy, that what you’re about to read will be short, sweet, and to the point - only to then go on and on about minute details while over-explaining every single nuance? Maybe once or twice.

Okay, fine. I admit it: I say that at the start of every blog post I write. You called me out on it, and I am here today to finally deliver on that promise…

Or die trying.

As we prance into the last calendar winter month of the year, let’s talk about movies! It’s the perfect topic for chilly evenings at home - whether you’re flying solo with a blanket and questionable snacks or turning it into a Valentine’s Day group activity to collectively avoid romantic expectations.

First, let’s briefly refresh our shared memory regarding the achievements of the Egyptian film industry. There are two things you likely already know, but they are worth reiterating: by the mid-20th century, Egypt had the third-largest film industry in the world (with the top two spots, of course, belonging to Hollywood and Bollywood), and the so-called Golden Era of Egyptian cinema is generally understood to be a roughly twenty-year period beginning in the 1940s.

I will refrain from repeating what has already been said about the Golden Era stars of Egyptian belly dance or from listing their names. You, Dorothy, can rattle them off the top of your head even before your first morning cup of coffee.

Instead, the focus here is a short list of films which - entirely in my own opinion - can enhance your understanding of the evolution of perception of dance and dance practitioners throughout the 20th century.  These films are classics within Egypt, yet for the most part remain unknown to students of belly dance in the West… unless, of course, said students are hopeless nerds with hyperfocus issues.

The first film is the 1964 production Palace Walk (Bayn al-Qasrayn), based on the novel by Egyptian Nobel Prize-winning author Naguib Mahfouz. His Cairo Trilogy was adapted for the screen by director Hassan El Imam. The novels have been translated into English and are essential reading for anyone interested in the social and political atmosphere of early 20th-century Egypt in the period leading up to the 1919 Revolution and all the way to the late 1940s.

Note that I’ve linked the YouTube video with a specific timestamp (40:56), which takes you straight to one of the major dance scenes in the film. Oh my - there’s a lot going on! This is not the only dance scene, of course; another one is equally informative (1:15:01). There is more dancing and singing sprinkled throughout the film, but I’ll let you hunt down those juicy bits on your own. Sounds a lot like homework!… You’re welcome. 

One thing does need to be pointed out, though: the dancers in this film are very intentionally portrayed as women of low social standing. There is nothing glamorous about their lives, and it is unambiguous that they are sex workers - because, as history repeatedly reminds us, professional entertainers were rarely granted the courtesy of being seen as anything else. 

Throughout the trilogy, the dancers are consistently framed as harlots and seductresses - until, of course, there is a twist when one of the main character’s sons gets married (in what part of the trilogy it happens is a mystery for you to solve). I’ll refrain from spoiling it here and instead encourage you to discover that particular development for yourself.

Since this is a trilogy, you didn’t seriously expect me to stop with the first film and call it a day. 

The second installment is Palace of Desire (Qasr al-Sawq) (20:24). The timestamp drops you straight into an extended scene depicting nighttime shenanigans aboard a houseboat that functions as both an entertainment headquarters and a brothel. I strongly encourage you to watch the full ten minutes or so of it. Yes, it’s cringe. Yes, your eyes may bleed a little. But you can do it. I believe in you.

The music deserves special mention. The sequence opens with “Lamma Bada Yatathanna” - an interesting musical choice for this particular setting, to put it mildly. My personal favorite, “Raqset el Hawanem,” also makes an appearance: a well-known and widely used song in the repertoire of traditional entertainers.

Things to take note of: a woman playing finger cymbals alongside the musicians - you’ll see her dancing and, best of all, performing floor work that appears to be directly inspired by floor-based tricks historically used (and still used) by traditional entertainers; hip-centric dancing by men; a cane used as a prop by a female character; and men dancing with canes but not Sa’idi style.

In short, there are plenty of goodies packed into this one - blink and you’ll miss something worth unpacking.

This one is tricky(1:39:35): keep your focus on the right side of the screen and you’ll spot a woman dancing in the background. Her skill level is a step above anything else we’ve seen so far in this film. This is also baladi, or social dancing. 

There is more singing and dancing throughout the film, but these examples should suffice as a sampler for your dance palate.

The third and final installment of the trilogy is Sugar Street (Al-Sukkariyya) (15:02), which was shot in color. In my personal opinion, this choice alters the mood implied in the novel - alas, I am anything but a film critic, so simply enjoy what unfolds on screen. 

In the timestamped clip, you’ll see the same brothel and the same madame - but the dancing is significantly better! 

This next clip is my cue for a bit of name-dropping. In the scene (36:29), the main character reminisces about the past, revisiting his cherished memories of times long gone. Beside him in the present sits an old, destitute woman; in his memories, she appears as a beautiful dancer. It is the same character, portrayed by the same actress - the unforgettable Nagwa Fouad herself. 

Sidenote (because no blog post of mine would be complete without one): while we’re name-dropping here, have you spotted Tahiya Carioca in this film so far?

The absence of background sound in this part of the movie could be due to a YouTube music copyright strike - or simply the quirks of the digitizing process used on the original material. Either way… just roll with it.

What you’re about to see in the next part (1:30:46) makes much more sense if you are familiar with the political struggles Egyptian society faced during the periods being portrayed. Keep in mind that the original novels follow one family’s life across several generations, beginning before the 1919 Revolution and leading up to almost the end of World War II.

Enjoy the dance scenes (spoiler: there’s more than just belly dancing!), and remember: by the time this film was produced, the 1952 Revolution had already taken place, and the Reda Troupe had become Egypt’s first national dance troupe. The forging of self-identity through cultural influence for all Egyptians was very much underway.

It’s very clear whose side the original author - and the film’s director - are on: one of the patriotic grandsons of the main character delivers the line, “Britain is our greatest enemy in the world.” It doesn’t get much more politically charged than that. Actually… it does. The film concludes with a chest-tightening scene of Islamic and Christian religious leaders coming together for the glory of Egypt and it's people. 

If you’ve made it to this paragraph, congratulations! Here, I reveal the point and purpose of today’s blog post: when evaluating your sources, don’t stop at judging whether they can be trusted not to embellish the facts. Go further - try to identify the lens through which they perceive those facts.

In this example, you cannot treat the portrayal of early 20th-century professional entertainers by the novelist as unbiased; he was publishing his work in the post-revolution era, after all. Nor can you entirely blame the director for making the dance scenes borderline torturous for the eyeballs: his priority was not accuracy in portraying female entertainers. He presented the “old ways” as bad ways - the lives and practices to be left firmly in the past. 

Allow me to conclude with some final - and entirely unsolicited - advice: tread cautiously when attempting to recreate or mimic a specific period in belly dance history. What you see labeled as “old” may, in fact, be much newer, bringing along all the misconceptions, biases, and questionable new-age philosophies of its own era.

A detailed and comprehensive analysis of all three films can be found in the work of Walter Armbrust. Volume 15 (1995): Issue 1 (Aug 1995) in Alif: Journal of Comparative Poetics. New Cinema, Commercial Cinema, and the Modernist Tradition in Egypt (it’s behind paywall, but  institutional access is allowed)

Did I deliver on my original promise? Well, I can confidently say - I did not die trying! 

Who is Tahiya Carioca’s character in the Sugar Street film? Get in touch and let me know: askauntiehelen@gmail.com