The defeat of 1967 gave rise to several powerful films. The victory of 1973 spawned only the mediocre. Hani Mustafa ponders a paradox The October celebrations are replete with rituals, one of which is the perennial mention, whenever the anniversary of the 1973 War approaches, of the possibility of a big-budget film about the war being made, one in which the armed forces would take part and into which producers would happily pour vast amounts of money. The idea may or may not be wishful thinking though it does have a point for in contrast to the 1967 War, which gave rise to several distinguished films, with generous quantities of self-criticism and soul searching, similar to what happened in America where movies about the Vietnam debacle far surpass any cinematic celebration of American military successes. Think only of Apocalypse Now by Francis Ford Coppola, and Oliver Stone's Platoon. In the early 1970s a number of superb movies appeared on the 1967 defeat, among them Oghneya Ala Al-Mamarr (Song on a Mountain Pass), the first full-length drama by director Ali Abdel- Khaleq and the first production by the new cinema production group which specialised in low-budget films. The film's five actors (Mahmoud Morsi, Mahmoud Yassin, Salah Qabil, Salah El-Saadani, and Ahmed Mari) accepted 20 per cent of their normal fees though they did retain profit share options in a film that was unlikely to ever be a hit. The film -- the first to address the 1967 tragedy from the soldiers' vantage point: stranded in a crucial mountain pass with inadequate supplies and ammunition, pretending it is business as usual, lining up for a roll call and generally remaining composed in the face of lethal odds. The message was simple -- steadfastness at any cost. Youssef Chahine's Al-Usfour (The Sparrow) was produced in 1972 though it was released only in 1974. The film identifies high-level corruption as a major contributory factor in the defeat. The climactic point of the film is the popular reaction to Nasser's resignation which spawned massive demonstrations demanding he remain as president. The paradox reflected the prevailing mood: when Baheya (played by Mohsena Tawfiq) hears Nasser's resignation speech she runs out to the street shouting "we will fight". The film mixes shots of troops moving to the front with scenes depicting a financial scam in Upper Egypt. The police are shown trying to arrest Abu Khedr, a hardened criminal, though the arrest is actually a smoke screen for a factory robbery, a crime in which senior officials are involved. The contrast between the public's loyalty to the president and their contempt of the regime is as powerful as it is paradoxical. Haunted by self- doubt the nation was determined to fight on. One intellectual, repeatedly imprisoned because of his opposition to Nasser, shouts from his prison cell for the president to stay in office. And the film uses the song "Masr Yamma ya Baheya" (O Splendered Mother Egypt!), by Sheikh Imam and the poet Ahmed Fouad Negm, to great effect. Tharthara Fawq Al-Nil (Chat by the Nile) is, if anything, less upbeat. Director Hussein Kamal based his critical view of post-1967 life on Naguib Mahfouz's novel, depicting the shattered lives of a cross-section of Egyptians who gather regularly on a houseboat to take drugs. The film opens with a low-level government official, Anis (Emad Hamdi), running into a film star, Ragab (Ahmad Ramzi), while buying drugs. The two, it emerges, had been neighbours in the past, a detail of no real consequence. The actor and the government employee gather at the houseboat with a cinema critic (Adel Adham), a prominent lawyer (Ahmed Tawfiq), a novelist (Salah Nazmi), an unfaithful wife (Nemat Mokhtar) and a student (Mervat Amin). It is only when a young journalist (Magda El-Khatib) bursts on to the scene that the group is forced to make a choice. The journalist wants to visit the frontline to show support for the soldiers. Anis agrees to go with her while the rest of the group prefer to stay on their isolated houseboat, doing nothing apart from drugs. In contrast with such powerful films the victory of 1973 brought in its wake a host of films intent on sentimentalising the crossing of the canal to the point of absurdity. Most celebrated the political changes that had occurred in Egypt and exaggerated the drawbacks of the previous regime. One honourable exception was Abnaa Al-Samt (Sons of Silence), by Mohamed Radi. Based on a novel by Magid Tobia, the film dealt in depth with the lives of army conscripts serving during the war of attrition. Tellingly, the film introduces the October war only in its final scene. The box office hit Al-Rasasa la Tazal fi Gaybi (The Bullet is Still in my Pocket) by Hossameddin Mustafa, based on a novel by Ihsan Abdel- Quddus, takes symbolism to excess. It opens with Mohamed, a soldier played by Mahmoud Yassin, returning by train to his village. The other passengers, noting his military uniform, treat him with sarcasm. In the second half of the film, days after the October war, the symbolism is reversed. Mohamed travels the same route and is cheered by fellow passengers. Mustafa lays on the symbols in his depiction of village life with a trowel. Mohamed's village has an agricultural cooperative -- political authority -- and a cooperative secretary, Abbas (Youssef Shaaban), who is clearly the boss. Abbas rapes a village girl, a cousin of Mohamed's. In one scene the girl is walking with Mohamed when she falls into a canal and is covered with mud. It is Mohamed who pulls her from the mud, a gesture intended to note the cleansing nature of the victory, while Abbas's corruption is duly contrasted with the probity of his successor. Triumphalsim, perhaps, is never going to produce satisfying cinema and the approach of filmmakers dealing with the 1973 War is seldom less than simplistic. Defeat, on the other hand, furnishes far more promising cinematic material, challenging directors to turn a national tragedy into art.
