Nabiha Lotfy's new documentary, “Carioca,” pays tribute to the legendary Egyptian belly dancer and actress, Tahia Carioca. For most Egyptians, the late Carioca is mostly perceived as the country's greatest dancer. What Lotfy attempts to accomplish in her latest project is unveiling the lesser-known sides of the “Shabab Emraa” star. Carioca wasn't a mere belly dancer; she was a rebel, a revolutionary and a lover. Her story is rich and tragic, comprising multiple marriages (13 in particular), plenty of brushes with authorities and a sad ending (she died almost penniless). Born in 1919 in Manzala, she overcame convention and family censure to become one of the most respected dancers of her time, gaining the name Carioca from the dance style that she developed, fusing together Brazilian and Egyptian rhythms. She was equally renowned for her beauty and independent spirit, capturing the hearts of an entire generation of Egyptians. Lotfy's film revels in her magnificence, ensconcing itself in old film footage that looks so alluring today. What the film lacks is a tangible narrative. Lotfy's interviewees — an eclectic group of intellectuals that include Egyptian novelist Sonallah Ibrahim, Lebanese choreographer Walid Aouni, National Progressive Unionist Party leader Mohamed Refaat El-Saeed, Egyptian filmmaker Magdy Ahmed Ali — are either too close to Carioca, or too far, to say anything of real merit. As a result, no substantial insight is shed on the life of such a singular figure, and in many instances, perfunctory and laudatory comments make up the bulk of the interviews. In other cases, the interviews only open further inquiries. For example, the presence of Egyptian director Yousry Nasrallah — who worked with her in his second feature, “Mercedes,” as well as several Youssef Chahine productions — begs the question, why him, and not Fifi Abdou, the renowned dancer that came to take care of Carioca's adopted daughter after her death in 1999? Similarly, the film subtly hints at a number of tragedies that befell Carioca without fully explicating them; such as Carioca's role in Egyptian politics. Thin reading of her time in prison under Nasser, her participation with a communist party in Egypt, her support of trade unions and later her participation with a counter-revolutionary group in the Sadat era only leaves more unanswered questions. In the seminar following Monday screening at Cairo Opera House's Artistic Creativity Center, Lotfy was asked about another unanswered question: Why was Carioca left in such a state at the end of her life? And why this reality was only subtly alluded to in the film? The end of the film leaves the audience wondering how Carioca ended up being in such a destitute state, what kind of role her last husband, Fayez Halawa, played in causing this, and why none of her family, including her niece, actress Ragaa Giddawi, provided any real support. If, as Giddawi says in the interview, Carioca refused any help, why then did she accept an apartment from a Kuwaiti benefactress? Lotfy replied that she was unwilling to discuss anything in the film that was not proven with hard evidence. The director did not wish to mire Carioca's name in rumor and intrigue, preferring simply to leave questions unanswered. Carioca was, and will continue to be, an enigmatic figure. The film only accentuates the mystery. She was at once a woman of the people, a true Egyptian, a patriot, and a real beauty. Naturally, any documentary film seeking to delve into the life of such an artist will whet the appetite of all of us familiar with her legacy. Edward Said, in his acclaimed essay, “Homage to a Belly Dancer,” says: “The paradox was that [Tahia Carioca] was so immediately sensual and yet so remote, unapproachable, unobtainable. In our severely repressed world these attributes enhanced the impression she made. I especially recall that once she started dancing, and continuing through the rest of her performance, she had what appeared to be a small self-absorbed smile on her face, her mouth open more than is usual in a smile, as if she was privately contemplating her body, enjoying its movements.” Lotfy's film, in some ways, epitomizes this quality about Carioca. By overwhelming the audience with pure memory — film footage, photographs, interviews, radio interviews — we are automatically mesmerized by the era that she has come to represent, without really coming to understand it better. What the film illustrates so successfully is this other, romantic and urbane Cairo, beguiling the viewers with a portrayal of life as we wished it to be. Here, women are seductresses, poised, cultivated and complete mystery. These women are all manifested in one figure: Carioca, and Carioca manages to keep her secrets.
