27 Sep. - 3 Oct. 2001
Issue No.553
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 27 Sep. - 3 Oct. 2001 Issue No.553 |
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Two guys and a girl
Amina Elbendary goes to the movies, sits back and laughs
There are any number of reasons that might lead you, on a humid Monday evening in late- September, to a cinema, to watch a newly released comedy. Boredom might push some, and the air- conditioning undoubtedly lures others. But with the backdrop of War and Intifada (or war) fleeing the political heat will also push many, as it did this Monday. Too much "breaking news" takes its toll, even on the most politically committed and historically conscious. To the movies, then, we went (no popcorn this time, though).
It begins with an ambulance and ends with a fire engine, two vehicles designed to save lives and deal with emergencies. Several emergency situations indeed do occur throughout 55 Is'af (Ambulance 55), producer Magdi El-Hawwari's directorial debut. Despite its relatively late release amid the much talked about rush of light summer films, 55 Is'af comfortably fits within this established millennial genre and has been making decent money at the box office. The actors are young, cool and relatively unknown, as are the writer, the producers and the director. The storyline (Ahmed Abdallah) is simple and simplistic, the camera movement quick but hardly experimental, the laughter measured in appropriate doses. It fits.
It makes you laugh this film, but while remaining comfortably in your seat. Don't expect tears to roll down your cheeks in the process. 55 Is'af -- and its sister summer comedies -- bring to mind the slap stick comedy of Ismail Yassin. It could very well have been an "Ismail Yassin fi'l Is'af."
The film narrates the adventures of Sayed (Ahmed Helmi) and Marei (Mohamed Saad), driver and paramedic on a certain ambulance no. 55 of Al-Salama Hospital. Best friends, flatmates and colleagues, the duo Sayed and Marei also share the same dreams -- literally. They are both hopelessly infatuated by the beautiful doctor Wafaa (Ghada Adel) in charge of the Emergency Room (which itself, incidentally, is never shown in the film) at Al-Salama. After a particularly rough beating they both simultaneously dream of fighting each other in a boxing match where the winner would be married to Wafaa and the loser to the spinster, and sexually frustrated neighbour, Aziza. They wake up before the fight is resolved. The ambulance is a major part of their lives, and they often use it as their personal SUV. So it comes in handy to move a couch or even go fishing. Ambulance 55 wreaks more havoc than it save lives.
Sayed and Marei adore Dr Wafaa and each tries to win her attention and admiration but they inevitably end up making fools out of themselves, every time. The minister of health visits Al- Salama Hospital and the expected cleaning up of the place and covering up of corruption -- familiar from other movies and indeed from real life -- is instituted. Youssef Dawoud plays a remarkable hospital director wishing to keep all trouble away from the minister's eyes. The conscientious Dr Wafaa, however, insists on handing the minister her proposal for upgrading and reforming emergency services, a proposal that is apparently shelved immediately.
The characters of Sayed and Marei are typical naive, kind-hearted good guys. After discovering a thief in their one-room apartment they cover for the guy and even "lend" him money. Their kind- heartedness also leads them to use the ambulance to drive their neighbour, Aziza, to Kafr El- Dawwar where she is -- at last -- to get married.
(L- R) Sayed, Dr Wafaa, Marei -- and ambulance 55, in trouble; Marei dreams of fighting for Wafaa
They take ambulance 55, of course.
And they drink a little "hobhob" to celebrate Aziza's upcoming wedding.
But their little adventure couldn't go smoothly.
Things start going wrong when on their way they find a parked Mercedes with a collapsed man inside. They don't recognise that it's the minister of health in a diabetic coma, nor that his chauffeur had gone off to telephone for help (this minister, conveniently, has no mobile phone). In their kindness and naiveté they take the man in the ambulance with them to the wedding! Meanwhile in Cairo, hell breaks loose as news of the disappearance of the minister is announced on television channels. Policemen are soon out searching for kidnappers.
The minister, again conveniently, remains passed out for the next 48 hours while Aziza gets married and Sayed and Marei obtain Dr Wafaa's help. The adventure takes the trio to Alexandria where an old medical school colleague and boyfriend of Wafaa helps bring him back to consciousness. Having saved his life the minister is now willing to implement Wafaa's emergency reform proposal. Accused of kidnap and wanted by the police, Sayed and Marei ask for help from the thief they met earlier. The thief's boss, owner of nightclub Kalykubre and a powerful gang leader, however, ends up really kidnapping the minister and demanding a ransom.
Throughout the movie Sayed and Marei survive so many knocks and blows to every conceivable part of their anatomy that it's a wonder they're still whole as the end credits roll.
Perhaps to the credit of its filmmakers 55 Is'af does not purport to be anything more than an entertaining summer film. But one cannot help notice the little subversive notes they strike, even though they seem quite nonchalant about it. The country's health care system is obviously in crisis, the minister's coma is quite indicative of the absence of a real reforming strategy. Al-Salama is a parody of modern medical institutions; little concern is given to the patients and corruption is a part of the everyday routine. Yet despite Dr Wafaa's emergency reform proposal, the film does not presume to end on reforming the situation.
And as in many a typical good versus evil film, it's not necessarily law enforcement officials who end up saving the day (and indeed saving authority in the person of the minister) but the naïve and kind hearted; Sayed, Marei and Wafaa. They devise a little plan to infiltrate the nightclub where the minister is kidnapped in the guise of a guitarist, a flamenco dancer and a waiter and then rescue the minister. The character of the police officer investigating the minister's disappearance and kidnap is perhaps the least caricaturish of the whole cast. This is not your typical law enforcement official. This officer does not dress like one; he dresses like a cool thug or drug dealer perhaps, in a fitted black leather jacket and jeans. His sadomasochism is evident in the way he tortures witnesses (such as Aziza who is hung up by her feet in her bridal red pyjamas and whipped) to obtain leads and information. It is farcically ridiculed for its stupidity and ultimate futility in solving the case. Yet while that's taken rather lightly, providing cause for more laughter, it is nevertheless still disturbing.
And in cross-dressing scenes reminiscent of vintage Ismail Yassin it's Marei (Saad) who acts the flamenco dancer and Wafaa (Adel) who plays the waiter in order to gain access to Kalykubre. In this and in other scenes that play on sexuality (such as Aziza coming on to Sayed and Marei on the stairs, Aziza, the morning after her wedding with her aged husband passed out, or Sayed's aunt's ex- husband caught with a prostitute in his own bed, behind his new wife's back) there are few erotic nuances. Even the sex in this movie is simple.
The film ends without either Sayed or Marei winning Dr Wafaa's heart. But they both share a new vehicle, fire engine 66, instead and we are left wondering what havoc the two will wreak with this one.
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