Yousra El-Sharkawi looks at the case for desterotyping women in drama, possibly with a little help from the law This Ramadan's soap operas, more so than in any previous year, have been making their way into the headlines as news stories in themselves. Fierce debates have sprung up surrounding the controversial issues some of them have raised. TV serials like Al-Gamaah (The Group), which poses an intense political and social review of Egyptian history in light of the Muslim Brotherhood's rise and development as a political movement, bring a number of hooded arguments into the daylight. The artistic flawlessness marking the production has done little to deflect arguments about the real intention for airing the programme just a few months before national parliamentary elections. Is it part of a behind-the-scenes struggle between Al-Gamaah and the Egyptian regime? Other productions have drawn attention because of a rather innovative plot, a newly-imported facet in the world of TV drama. Ahl Cairo (People of Cairo) is an excellent example of this. It uses the technique of focusing on the unity of event and place to present a production along the lines of the "one-day plot" films that have emerged recently in Egyptian cinema. Hence what seemed to be a quiet gamble, the risk of airing a less dynamic serial, has so far proved to be a welcome addition to TV drama production. Another remarkable feature of this year's Ramadan dramas is the new portraits painted of women, which are generally far removed from the typical drama that traditionally portrays them as self- sacrificing mums or dominating, evil-spirited business women. In Aiza Atgawez (I want to get married) starring cinema star Hend Sabri, the focus is on the hilariously funny, and sometimes painful, day-to- day experiences of Ola Abdel-Sabour, a typical middle-class Egyptian pharmacist who faces enormous pressure from society and her own family to find a suitable husband and get married before reaches 30, which is, according to current social norms, the age by which girls must marry to escape the tragic fate of being called a spinster. Contrary to Ola's experience, finding a husband is not a problem when it comes to Zohra in Zohra Wa Azwagha Al khamsa (Zohra and her Five Husbands), a serial starring Ghada Abdel-Razeq. This serial is something in between a typical, if not a somewhat exhausted plot, and what seems to be an attempt to raise serious questions about the legislation governing marriage and personal affairs in Egyptian law, and whether women rights are undermined by certain legal shortcomings. Aiza Atgawaz, is the latest in number of similar dramatic and cinematic programmes tackling the issue of late marriage for young women and their confusion regarding their personal, emotional, and social needs on the one hand and pressures imposed by society on the other. What is unique about this series is the fact that it is based on a book and blog of the same title by Ghada Abdel-Aal, herself a young Egyptian pharmacist. Abdel-Aal is spearheading one of the very first attempts to speak out about an unjust social norm and to support young women in their late 20s to mid-30s confronted by the notion that they are incomplete and far from fulfilled unless they tie the knot. Compared with recent offerings such as the film Bantain Min Masr (Two Girls from Egypt), a 2010 Egyptian production starring Egyptian actress Zeina and Syrian star Saba Mubarak, and the 2008 TV drama Banat fi Al Thalathin (Girls in Their Thirties ), Aiza Atgawez, is less dramatic and melancholic in tone, more comic, and more critical in attitude. The screenplay, also written by Abdel-Aal, is completely consistent with the blog and the book, with each episode starting with Ola -- called "Bride" in the original text -- addressing viewers and introducing them to another chapter in her quest to finding a soul-mate. Running through each episode is a dialogue between Ola and the viewers while she introduces characters, whether family members, colleagues, or, of course, potential suitors. Despite this, viewers know almost nothing about most of the characters portrayed. These characters are reduced to nothing more than marginal part of this bigger-than-life quest to find the suitable groom. Actually, Ola herself seems hardly untraceable outside the bride frame. Nothing is told about her career aspirations as a pharmacist, her hobbies, or her attitudes towards issues apart from marriage. Even when she reveals intentions of becoming involved in social work or to start studying for a master's degree, these ventures end up as some of her desperate tricks to meet someone and convince him to propose. True, viewers will sometimes catch a glimpse of the fighter in Ola, someone who criticizes the means by which society has reduced the female role to nothing more than a bride. An excellent example is her highly amusing conversation with her mother about how people usually question young boys about their career aspirations when they grow up, but ask girls about nothing but marriage and which of her family members she would prefer as a groom. In such moments, Ola halts her quest and reflects on society's double dealings with males and females against the background of marriage. At such times she expresses a sarcastic criticism of this marriage mania stampeding around her. Such remarks, once voiced by Ola, come as a reminder of the in- depth, independent reflections that Abdel-Aal makes in her book and on her blog about gender relations and the way Egyptian society stereotypes the woman's role. These reflections come wrapped up in comedy, but Ola's critical attitude is short-lived and she usually submits to the marriage mania -- even if she does not face it in the atypical manner as she resorts to child-like competition with female neighbors and work colleagues. Ola's mother, played by Sawsan Badr, is one of the few characters of whom viewers are given any insight. She is the faithful companion in the quest for her daughter's suitable match. She is portrayed as a typical middle-class mother and wife whose only goal is the welfare of her children, and who continually advises Ola to act more smartly in playing tricks to catch a groom -- but without teaching her the rules of play. Ola's mother mirrors the society that holds the young woman responsible for marrying late, while not understanding that they are actually shackled and frustrated by a number of cultural and economic problems, or simply by the fact that they have not met yet Mr. Right, whose rightness, by the way, has nothing to do with his extraordinary financial status or a movie-star looks. Exaggerated performance is another shortcoming that the makers of the series, and particularly actress Sabri, have created. It is clear that the episodes are comic in nature but they were not meant to be a farce, and Ola's reactions to yet another encounter with disappointment are exaggerated to a point where they are not so funny anymore. Enlisting famous actors to play cameo roles has added to the accomplishment of the production. Yet it cannot escape some harsh criticism. Azza Kamel, is the founder and director of Appropriate Communication Techniques for Development and has worked on more than one research study dealing with the stereotyping of Egyptian women in Ramadan dramas, carried out by Al-Maraa Al-Gadeeda (The New Woman), an active group advocating women rights. Kamel believes that although Aiza Atgawez tackles a growing and important public concern in Egyptian society in a different manner, it is trapped in extreme exaggeration and falls under similar patterns familiar in common stereotypes. "All the female figures, from Ola down, are helpless, desperate characters who run true to social stereotypes rather than fight against them," Kamel said in an interview with Al-Ahram Weekly, Abdel-Aal's answer is that the final few episodes of the series will be more about Ola reflecting on her quest for marriage and her criticism of herself and society. In Zohra and her Five Husbands, the script, written by Moustafa Mouharam, is centered on the character of a low-class nurse who has no potential or talent but possesses a seductive beauty, a bunch of admirers, and good intentions. At the start, Zohra is portrayed as a seeker of true love who cares little about material gains. She is exploited by almost everyone around her, including her own mother. Eventually she is forced to marry (as her second husband) an elderly multimillionaire, Al-Hag Farag, played by famous actor Hassan Youssef. Zohra changes her appearance, dress style and lifestyle, and manages to convince herself and the audience that she has settled down to be the faithful wife of Farag. So far it is a typical plot in an Egyptian drama, with a breathtakingly beautiful female winning the hearts of almost every male figure in her life but with less fortunate events pushing her into a marriage not based on love, but providing her with a chance to climb the social ladder. Most of the characters portrayed are mono-dimensional; including Farag and his first wives. Even with Zohra, the shifts in her character and style of living and dressing are initiated mainly by her different marriages, which come one after the other. There is no string to hold these changes together, which leaves viewers feeling that they are encountering more than one Zohra, not a single character undertaking a tough journey. What, then, could save Zohra and make out of her a different female Ramdan portrait? The answer could be the fuss in the press and in various media outlets about whether the series is promoting polyandry, which is prohibited by Islamic legislation and Egyptian law. A law suit has even been filed by the Nurses' Syndicate arguing that Zohra's character harms the public image of nurses and presents them as nothing more than manipulative figures. Perhaps, though, it is a reflection of the limitations and shortcomings in the legislation ruling marriage affairs, laws that place Zohra -- thanks to a legality that allows husbands to remarry their divorcees without notifying them or others -- in the unfortunate situation of being married to five husbands at the same time. So might this be a wakeup call to amend the laws governing affairs of marriage? Kamel doubts it. "It is hard to sympathize with Zohra because you can hardly capture the essence of her character," she says. She points out that Zohra is the same typical heroine, climbing from the bottom of the social ladder to the top by making use of her looks. It's an age old story, and it's unlikely to end here.
