By Iman Hamam It is risky to read films through current political events as a rule. But with Sherif Mandour's Maalish Ehna Bnitbahdil (Sorry, We're Being Harassed), written by Youssef Maati, this is somewhat hard to avoid. A film narratively framed by the 11 September 2001 attacks and the fall of Saddam Hussein begs to be viewed in the context of political farce, perhaps one of our times' emerging genres. And this film places the protagonist, El-Qarmooty (Ahmed Adam) alongside Saddam and Bush lookalikes (much like the puppets in Team America). In many respects, this is yet another commercial production featuring a comedian whose name, in keeping with the country's present star-system formulation, in practice substitutes the film title. In what way is politics, again, being brought to the forefront of Egyptian comedy? In the film Qarmooty, a long popular Ahmed Adam persona who provided rural Egypt with friendly TV advice, is a coffeeshop owner living at the base of the Giza Pyramids. But unlike Sherif, the Adel Imam character in El-Sifara fil Imara (The Embassy in the Apartment Building), Qarmooty is both outspoken and politically savvy, though this is only manifest in the comic disavowal of opportunism and cowardice: courageous enough to speak his mind but swift to alter his position to herald whatever the figure before him represents. He watches the news on satellite televion, and unlike the others in the area, realises that the 11 September attacks bear significance on the future of the country; he swiftly formulates his own political party, Hizb Al-'Atileen (Party of the Unemployed). Throughout the action of the film, however, his concern remains with the future of his family and his own, though symbolically the figure emerges as an alternative national leader: a corrupt businessman on one hand, and the voice of the downtrodden. His relations with America start off amicably enough. On the arrival of a tourist bus, Qarmooty empties out his café of locals in order to personally welcome a foreign delegation. A fight breaks out when the waiter attempts to overcharge the customers. Attempting to calm the situation, Qarmooty picks up a mobile phone and starts talking to Bush. As he does so, images of the 11 September bombings are screened on the television. Meanwhile his suicidal son (also played by Ahmed Adam) is having difficulty gaining access to his coquettish sweetheart, who won't let him into the house because, she says, "When a man and a woman are alone together, the third among them is the Devil," to which he responds, "The devil is busy elsewhere, now let me in." Deeply in love, the two are nonetheless unable to consummate their love in matrimony (the only available option), presumably because the unemployed son, with only a degree from the Faculty of Agriculture, department of garden hoses, does not present a promising or stable future as a husband, unless he immigrates to America, to which he is unable to secure a visa. A year and a half passes when, out of the blue, an old friend named Am Hussein Abou Adnan, phones from Iraq with a proposal for a business plan. A scam later, and Adam is driving a truck load of mangoes to Iraq. Admist the media-frenzied build-up to the invasion of Iraq, Qarmooty delivers a valiant message to Bush: "My son is in Iraq. That's all I'm saying. Is that clear?" The message places Qarnooty on Bush's top three hit list, alongside Saddam Hussein and Osama Ben Laden. Locally, Qarmooty plummets into ill favour with disgruntled members of the community, who march to the police station to demand that he should be arrested. He escapes and hitches a ride to Iraq in order to rescue his son. Caught in the crossfire between the Iraqi resistance and the American forces, Qarmooty falls into the hole where Saddam happens to be hiding. He is then arrested by the Americans, brought before President Bush, and faints. Bush resuscitates him, and reassuringly says, "Let's go for a walk, and you can tell me why you're bad guy." The American president forces him to wear a beard and record a message in which he confesses to the bombing of the American embassy. When it finally comes down to it, Qarmooty scandalises Bush in front of the press, outwits the army and escapes from Abu Gharib, laughing all the way home -- and to the bank, with the mangoes sold and the wedding between his son and his sweetheart finally allowed to take place. If it were just about comic sketches carrying spectators from one haphazard scene of misfortune to another (and the familiar too-fat-to-get-in-the-door gag along the way), then perhaps it is written into political farce to allow the downtrodden to vent their frustrations through comedy. Yet in many respects the comedy ultimately discredits not only those it mocks, but also the spectators. Ahmad Adam, a disturbingly distorted character, makes this somewhat difficult. Nor does it help that he is playing two roles. He is a hero in that, by the end of the film, Qarmooty is able to outwit figures of authority around him. This proves irrelevant, however, offering only one-liners and gags; only the farcical nature of politics remains, and one wonders where political subversiveness is hiding. This is particularly apparent in that, in the course of the film, Qarmooty and his son are arrested together several times by the Egyptian police, first for speaking against the Americans, then for collecting funds under false pretences for the Unemployed Party and later for writing a bad cheque and spoiling a wedding. In Iraq, the son is arrested by Iraqis under Saddam, and Qarmooty by the invading American army. The range of prison cells is shown in the shot of a person looking at Qarmooty being brutally beaten in the Egyptian police station ("that's just a political prisoner") -- taken from a particularly obscure point of view. Later, in Abu Gharib, a woman playing the role of Lindsey Lynch has Qarmooty held down and strips her clothes off before him. Of course, at this point, the narrative slows down. Of course there are reverse shots of her taking each item of her clothing off, throwing her bra at Qarmooty, who is cowering in the corner until, voice off, John his American friend, shouting out "Stop it" and England skulks out of the cell. The film also provides some interesting comments on the role of television in Egyptian society. As the title of Ahmed Adam's programme Maalish Ahna Binitkalim (Sorry, We're Talking) reflects, this is precisely what television is providing. And as Qarmooty points out, between the news he watches in the coffee shop and the porn he watches at home, there is little difference. "That's how it happens: it starts with a speech, and ends with obscenity," he declares, when the wife protests that it's only a man giving a speech. Having said this, there are some repeated motifs, the use of portraits of leaders being the most interesting example. The imagery is stock, but that's not where it ends -- since it is the way the stock imagery is formed that is significant: typically, it is Egypt's tourist industry that provides the backdrop of relations with America, as opposed to friendship and relations in Iraq. But it seems discerning to then place the face of Saddam in the opening credits in postcard snapshots of Ancient Egyptian sites, and digitally insert his profile into ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic engravings. Ironically, links between Iraq and Egypt's past in light of recent political trends are confined to such kitsch depictions. They are rarely explored, comically or otherwise, in any greater depth.
