Sunil Doshi interviews Nadine Labaki – director, Caramel
Sunil Doshi- Director, NDTV Lumiere interviews Nadine Labaki who played the lead in ‘Caramel‘ and also directed it. The movie which had an excellent theatrical run in India is now also available on DVD.
Q. How would you sum up your film?
Briefly, I could say, “It’s the story of five Lebanese women, five friends of different ages who work or meet in a beauty salon in Beirut.” If I were to develop on that a little, I could add, “In this typically feminine world, these women – who suffer from the hypocrisy of a rational oriental system in the face of western modernism – help each other with the problems that they encounter in relation to men, love, marriage and sex…” Today, in that part of the world, Lebanon appears as an example of an open, free and emancipated society. But that isn’t always true. Behind the façade, we are still subjected to many constraints, the permanent fear of other people’s looks and their judgment of us. In this context, Lebanese women are eaten up by remorse and guilt. In the hair and beauty salon, my heroines feel safe. It’s a place where, even if they are looked at from a very intimate angle, they are never judged. The woman who does hair removal sees us naked, in every sense of the word, because that is a moment when we cannot cheat. Little by little, we tell her about our lives, fears, plans, love affairs, etc.
Q. Why the title Caramel?
It refers to the product for removing unwanted hair in the Middle East, a blend of sugar, lemon juice and water that is boiled until it turns into caramel. This mixture is spread over marble to cool a little. And it is turned into a paste used to remove unwanted hair.
But Caramel is also the idea of sweet and salt, sugary and sour, of the delicious sugar that can burn and hurt you.
Q. Tell us about your characters. Let’s start with Layale, the role you play.
She is the owner of the salon. A young woman of 30, Christian, who still lives with her parents like virtually all young, unmarried women in Lebanon. Her jewels show her love of the Holy Virgin and her words reveal that she is attached to her religion. Layale is in love with a married man and is his mistress. That’s the perfect example of the contradiction. On the one hand, there’s her family that she doesn’t want to disappoint, her religion, a protective cocoon and, on the other, this man on whom she is totally dependent and who represents a complete taboo, a
transgression.
Q. For a first film, it can’t have been easy to direct and act at the same time?
I admit that I hesitated for a long time. I was tempted by the idea of acting but I was afraid it would hurt the film. Luckily, I took that risk because it allowed me to direct the scenes from the inside. Since the actresses were non-professionals, I could drive the film along by being as close to them as possible. Especially as, since I wanted each one to keep her own way of speaking, I didn’t give them any dialogue to learn.
Q. Was the use of non-professional actress a deliberate choice or a simple coincidence?
I wanted women who, in real life, are like their characters. I had a very precise idea of their physique, their personality, the words that they would use and I didn’t want character parts. I had to look for them in the streets and shops, in friends’ homes… That took some time but they are all very close to the reality of their parts.
Q. Who is Nisrine?
A Muslim woman of 28, Layale’s friend, who works in the hair salon. She is about to get married to a Muslim boy who doesn’t know that she is no longer a virgin. This is a big problem for her. Should she tell him? Or get herself stitched up like many other Lebanese girls in this situation do? Yasmine Al Masri who plays the part isn’t an actress. She was born in Lebanon from an Egyptian mother and a Palestinian father. She is a good friend that I met in Paris where she studies Fine Art and oriental dance. All her work, her struggle even, revolves around the woman’s body. Nisrine couldn’t be anyone but her.
Q. And Rima?
She is a young girl of 24, a bit of a tomboy, who does the shampoos in the salon. Silent and introverted, she isn’t voluptuous and coquettish like the others. Rima is looking for herself. Little by little, we discover that she has a penchant for women. But is she really aware of it? Joanna Moukarzel is a business manager with a large electrical appliances company. I was quickly won over and charmed by her spontaneous, vibrant side.
Q. And Jamale, the client?
Jamale is friends with all the girls in the salon. We don’t really know how old she is or her religion. She is so afraid of growing old that she struggles to hide the fact that she is going through her menopause. Life is nothing but show to her. Many women in my country are in this situation because a Lebanese woman’s powers of seduction play an important role in her life. Jamale wants to become an actress because, after having devoted her life to her children, she wants to shine and exist, especially as we discover that her husband has dumped her for a younger woman. In real life, Gisèle Aouad is a personal assistant. She has a generous, extrovert personality that is ideally suited to the part.
Q. And Rose, the seamstress?
Rose is a Christian aged 65 who lives next door to the salon and who knows all the girls well. She has never married because she has sacrificed herself for her slightly crazy sister. When she meets a man, Charles, she lets love pass by, out of a sense of sacrifice no doubt, but also by censoring herself. In Lebanon, when you’re a widow, divorced or a “spinster”, you’re no longer allowed to be in love after a certain age. Otherwise, you become a laughing stock, you’re made to look ridiculous and you’re an embarrassment to the people around you. In this closed society, guilt arises from bonds with the family and religion whichever one it may be. Sihame Haddad, who plays Rose, is a housewife. I was immediately attracted by her personality, which is touching in spite of her restraint.
Q. Are these characters representative of Lebanese women today?
More or less, yes. But I didn’t want to present a sociological work and I certainly haven’t summed up the whole of Lebanese society in the film. I made this film because I ask myself a lot of questions about Lebanese women. Obsessed with their appearance, they are seeking their identity between the image of western women and that of oriental women…
The Lebanese woman always feels as if she is stealing her moments of happiness. She has to use all kinds of ploys all the time to live the way she wants. And when she manages it, she feels guilty. We’d be wrong to think that they are free. Even though I am fairy emancipated and do the job that I want to do the way I want, I feel conditioned deep down inside by traditions, education and religion. Little girls in Lebanon grow up with the Arabic word “aayib” which, accompanied by a threatening gesture of the finger, means, “That’s shameful.” Anything can be shameful. We are continually afraid of doing something that we shouldn’t do.
With the idea of sacrificing ourselves to please our parents, children, husband and family. At every stage in our lives, we are given an example to follow that, of course, doesn’t correspond to what we want to be. The Lebanese woman, be she Muslim or Christian, lives a contradiction between what she is what she wants to be and what she is allowed to be.
Q. Do you think the relations between the different communities could improve thanks to women?
I think so, yes. Women have a lot more in common than men do: children, the preservation of life, complicity, love affairs… Muslims or Christians, no one can take that from us, even beneath the bombs. I believe in the universal nature of these feelings.
Q. Why did you shoot in Lebanese?
It’s the language of my country! I cannot imagine a Lebanese film, about Lebanon, performed by Lebanese actors, in any other language but my own!
Q. Was it a coincidence or a deliberate choice to write this screenplay with two men?
It was vital. Since I didn’t want to make a purely feminist film, I really needed the opinion of men.
Q. What kind of light did you ask the director of photography to provide?
Yves Sehnaoui is a very talented young Lebanese DOP. I asked him for a very sensual, warm, colourful, soft and gentle light on the skin and the colour… caramel.
Q. And for the sets?
Cynthia Zahar and I took our inspiration from a very beautiful salon in Beirut. But, in addition I wanted us to sense that the place had been through a lot. For Rose’s home and workshop I
also wanted to give this impression of different periods that had passed by. And, with talent, Cynthia was able to conjure up this impression of passing time.
Q. Last of all, is Caramel a political film?
That wasn’t my intention when I wrote it. But now, because of the events, I would say yes. In Lebanon, everything has become a political act, politics slip into the most intimate areas of our lives! I thought I could get away from it but the reality of the war caught up with me. Today, with the tensions that reign in Lebanon, Caramel contains a message nonetheless: in spite of the opposition between the different religions, reactivated by the war, cohabitation and coexistence are natural. At least, that’s how we should live.
blogged by Shamath Mazumdar, NDTV Lumiere
Tags: Lebanon, Nadine Labaki, Paris, World Cinema
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its a fabulous movie… watched it at piff this year ;-)
Didn’t know that all those female actors in the film were non-professionals! Interesting read.
an absolutely brilliant movie. thanks sunil for the interview – it lets us know the idea and the brain behind the film.