Caramel
Caramel is about five beautiful women of varying ages living and working in Beirut. I grew up with Hollywood’s idea of a strong woman being Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft, so Caramel’s female characters were a reassuring breath of fresh air. They’re all ordinary women, who support each other and laugh together, and each has their own faults and desires but are so much more admirable and likeable because of them.
This film is full of charm, a large part of which comes from the lead actress, co-writer and director, Nadine Labaki, who plays Layale. Layale is in her late twenties and runs her own salon but she is a ‘romantic failure’, marriage being the real measure of success in Lebanese society. She is sexually involved with a married man who is increasingly dismissive of her attempts to make the relationship something more than an affair. Her largest achievement however, is to bring together this microcosm of Lebanese women into her salon where they can be themselves and convey their fears, temporarily free from outside social pressures.
Although filmed in a country that many of us know little about, Caramel and its characters are endearingly familiar and its themes easy to identify with. The voluptuous and sensual colours and camera work combined with the rich texture of images adds to its appeal. What’s more, the interweaving of gentle humour with drama reminds me of Pedro Almovader’s Volver, where other strong female leads endure hardships with dignity. Elderly and confused Lili, played by Aziza Semann, is an excellent example of how comedic touches can blend well with serious everyday experiences.
The fact that Caramel is directed by a woman and stars a nearly all-female ensemble (none of whom were professional actors but hand picked by Labaki off the street), highlights that women can benefit positively from supporting each other. Labaki has become part of a wave of female filmmakers, such as Diablo Cody, writer of Juno and Marjane Satrapi, director of Persepolis, who are making distinctive films that encompass female wit and strength.
Labaki has been keen to point out that Caramel, while clearly about womanhood and romance, is also a comment on the specific dilemmas of women in Lebanon. She subtly explores the diversity of problems Lebanese women face: a Christian woman having an affair; a Muslim woman about to be married but who is no longer a virgin; a young tomboy with an interest in women but unable to discuss the prospect of being homosexual; and an elderly woman who has committed her life to care for her sister. Labaki also hints at the recent obsession with beauty.
Caramel, which is in cinemas from 16 May, is a sweet-tasting treat that both women and men should give into.
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