The Yacoubian Building
Sex, Corruption & Moviemaking History
By Dagher El Sakr
July 2006

Shady politics, high-level corruption and not-so-straight sex; the bestselling Arabic novel of all time dug its heels into the greatest of Arab taboos and refused to budge. It was inevitable the book turned into the most anticipated and expensive Arabic movie ever made. Dagher El Sakr speaks exclusively to The Yacoubian Building’s fearless young stars and its even younger director, casting an honest gaze over a book, a film and a story that has had the region gripped.

This is the big one. Our very own Da Vinci Code. From the moment The Yacoubian Building went to the top of the regional bestseller lists, it was just a matter of time before it turned into a big screen production. By the time the novel’s fourth edition - which allegedly sold out in a minute or so - was published, the film was announced. And now, one year and five more editions later, the film set to dominate a rather dwarfed summer market.

But surely nobody expected something this big, lavish, or this star-laden? This is as big as Egyptian motion pictures get, with production values rivalling epics such as Yousef Chahine’s Salah El-Dine, emotional gravitas ranking right up there with black and white favourite Fee Baytouna Ragel  and the most spectacular cast since the early 80s cheese-fest El Rousasa La Tazal Fi Gebi). If none of the above means anything to you, then imagine Orson Wells’ Citizen Kane doing Lord of the Rings part IV: Return of Elvis the King; with the cast of Ocean’s Fifteen and a soundtrack by a newly reformed Beetles, with Madonna as lead singer.  It is BIG!

But is it any good?

Let’s back up a little. Is the actual novel on which the movie is based any good?

Like the Da Vinci Code, the novel is not all that well written. Perhaps one reason behind its mass appeal. The language is simple. It speaks to the every-day man in non-pompous straightforward narrative. Yet the content is intriguing and exciting. Not in its labyrinthine plot and shocking twists, but in its willingness to address the greatest taboos in our society. The novel breaks boundaries.

It touches on corruption which fuels the unholy alliance between big business and political power. It even throws hints that corruption begins at the very top. As in the very top! Corrupt business dealings taking place behind high palace walls and in decaying remnants of a classical forgotten time.

It displays poverty for what it really is - degrading with nothing noble about it. It points a finger to police brutality, religious fanaticism and terrorism, while raising a middle finger to religious divide, in a world where Muslim and Copt are united by greed, love or sex. Be it straight sex or otherwise. In fact it hammers the sex issue with an anvil. And it does so in a way that is uncomfortably true to life. The characters are mostly crass and loud. Fatigued, be it spiritually or physically. They are deprived, either of riches, or peace of mind, and often both. Rich and poor squandering their dignity for power or money, be it a few pounds or a few hundred million. The sex, devoid of any eroticism, is quick and guilt-ridden and takes place mostly in dampen stuffy locations.

This is life taking place literally on two levels. One in the actual building, the other on its roof. Lives which seem very different are united by the same themes of vulgarity, greed and a relentless hunger for sex and money. People are divided only by a very shallow appearance of wealth and an even less substantial sheen of class. It is Upstairs Downstairs, in reverse. Oh soo very Egyptian.

We are presented with a world where nothing pure can happen. Where there are only two incidents of pure love. The first dies quickly because of poverty, with one lover eventually dying literally of a hundred angry bullets. The other is born out of sexual and financial convenience; a playboy taking advantage of a woman who is trying to deceive him. Like real life, it’s all rather unpleasant. 

How were they ever going to translate all that into a movie? A book could have sneaked through censorship; after all we are not a nation of mass readers. But a film? A big film that millions will watch? Surely after negotiating its way through round after round of conservatism, the result would lack any real bite. But apparently not…the film, we were promised, would retain its edge. Its risqué factor.

Still, I had my doubts. The Da Vinci Code managed to quite admirably butcher the book. No mean feat when you consider how lousy the source material was to start with. And yet the big screen version of The Yacoubian Building succeeds in bringing out the very essence of the book. This is of no great surprise, considering the early declaration by the makers that they would stick “extremely closely” to the novel.

In some cases the film even manages to bring more life to some of the characters. Primarily in the case of Zaki Desouky, played by Adel Imam. With his prototype humble ‘Egyptian man’ features and a filmography brimming with working class roles, Imam was never the most obvious candidate for the role. Desouky is after all the old-money, European educated son of aristocrats - old money of which precious little is left. Just about enough to continue living an idle life, doing nothing but chasing women and looking regal in old suits. Yet Imam manages to make Desouky his own. Lifting him from a generic stereotype and giving him a soul. And it is refreshing, uplifting even, to see the typically strong and commanding Imam, play the role of a broken old man, increasingly disillusioned with his present, and clinging desperately to a past that has left him behind. Desouky, in the hands of Imam, rises from one of many characters populating the novel to become first among equals in the film.

Imam’s son, Mohamed, also manages to shine, playing the role of another disillusioned and tormented soul. He is Taha, an idealist who harbours innocent dreams of love and dignity. Unrealistic dreams when you’re the son of the building’s porter; dreams which are ultimately crushed by nasty realities. It’s a familiar and tired theme, yet Imam junior lifts the role from the cliché, to something altogether more elegant and effortless.

His young lover - and by lover I strictly mean the one he is in love with (for this is pure innocent love) - is played by Hind Sabry, a young Tunisian who has made Egypt her second home. Sabry has the soft features and grace of an aristocrat, but here she plays Bothayna, another of the struggling inhabitants of the roof. This is one of the bravest roles in the film; a young woman who is desperate to earn enough money to keep herself and her widowed mother afloat in a world that is economically ravaging. Another tired theme I admit, but Sabry dares to show a new side to a very tough equation; striking a delicate balance between keeping her virtue, while allowing herself to be molested sexually. The purity of Bothayna is slowly and effectively transformed into a harsher shell as she deals with bosses poking her body and ‘jerking off’ on her clothes. Or so the English subtitles to the more tame Arabic language suggest.

Sabry could have easily have chosen to shy away from a role that is alien to superficially ‘clean’ Egyptian actresses, yet one that is alarmingly familiar to many Egyptian girls of Bothayna’s age and social class. So what exactly attracted Sabry to the role in the first place? “You run into girls like that every single day,” she says. “Yet in Egyptian cinema we pretend they don’t exist; that’s a big lie. Cinema is society’s mirror; we have to show it as it is.”  But surely she hesitated before accepting the role? “You must be joking, this role was a great gift,” she says.

Hind Sabry stars alongside Adel Imam for the first time. An actor she labels as a “legend.” Was she scared? “Terrified!” she replies in very determined English. “But when I told him that, he said he was pretty terrified too, which made things a lot easier.” Together they give the film its only ray of hope; their relationship progressing from one of sexual convenience and opportunism to one of true love. “We are both people with problems, but our problems lead to purity,” explains Sabry. “We both want happiness but refuse to hurt others in the process.” By the film’s end, theirs is not simply a marriage between an aging aristocrat and a young poor woman, but also between the different classes that inhabit the building, or indeed the city. As his aristocratic friends and her low class relatives dance to the songs of Edith Piaf in their own very distinct manner, hope is inspired and the belief grows that until today, Egyptians, regardless of class, wealth or religion, can still dance to the same tune. 

Youssra gracefully accepts to step back into a cameo role which she injects with elegance and restraint. We can even forgive the fact she spends half her screen time singing those Edith Piaf songs. Let us instead blame that on the film makers who stuck to the novel’s corniest details.

Isaad Younis, Ahmed Rateb, and Ahmed Bedier ham their way through their roles, Khaled Saleh deliciously so. And it seems no one bothered to tell Nour El Sherif or Somaya El Khashab they were not reprising their roles in the Ramadan Tamseliya. Oh well, minor oversight.

The award for the film’s bravest role must nevertheless go to Khaled El Sawy who plays Hatem, the homosexual editor-in-chief of a local French language paper. Normally gay characters in Egyptian films - on the rare occasion they do exist - are played with the subtlety of pantomime villains in Disney cartoons; flaming homosexuals flamboyantly flaunting their depravity before meeting an inescapable fate of imminent doom. Not here. El Sawy, having accepted a role turned down by many actors for fear of tarnishing their image, turns Hatem into an intelligent, eloquent, calm and decent man; someone normal who has a job other than being gay. Ok, perhaps not too decent since he does also take advantage of a young man in need of money.

When asked why he accepted such a risky role, El Sawy is disarmingly honest. “Because I have no history or image to protect, but perhaps others did,” he says, emphasising the “perhaps.” He refuses to speculate on other people’s intentions out of respect. Yet poke a little further and the humble demeanour starts to crack, “Also because I’m a trouble maker. I like adventure. I’m into martial arts. I am a member of the Kefaya (Enough) movement and I like to play radical avant garde roles.” After a single meeting with the director, El Sawy was happy to surrender himself. “It was like knowing from your very first date with a woman whether or not you will fall in love with her,” he says. His belief in the character was equally unwavering, “A great and developed character does not limit your performance, it opens up new doors for creativity.” And thanks to the role, other unexpected “doors” are flinging themselves open, with his onscreen homosexual intimacy attracting women in droves. “You’d be surprised how much the level of female interest in me has risen since I played that role,” he quips.

Yet perhaps the accolade for bravery should not go to El Sawy or indeed Sabry, but the film’s producers for entrusting a young and unknown director with the film. Marwan Hamed, son of the film’s scriptwriter, only had one small directorial project under his belt. It must have seemed foolish to assign him the biggest production in the history of Egyptian cinema. But the risk has seemingly paid off.

So how on earth does a young boy from seemingly nowhere land this dream directorial gig? “Trust,” he says. “They all trusted me, my father, the producers and the actors.” Surely his father, Wahed Hamed, had a defining role in the making of this film? Hamed dismisses the inevitable assumptions, stressing that once shooting commenced his father never stepped foot on set. Neither in fact did the producers, choosing to treat him like a seasoned professional

“I was treated like Yousef Chahine,” says Hamed, “which gave me the confidence I may have lacked.”  Directing a cast comprising some of the biggest egos in the industry would have required lashings of steely confidence. It is only here that Hamed admits to parental interference, albeit indirectly.  “Because of my father’s work and his social relationships, I grew up with Adel Imam, Nour El Sherif and Youssra, so it was easy. They treated me like a son.”

So was that the real reason he made the unlikely and controversial decision to cast Adel Imam? “You’ve got to go beyond physical appearances,” says Hamed. “Adel Imam may not look like the novel’s Zaky, but he very much is Zaky in character. Zaky has been in that building for over 50 years. He is popular among his neighbours and is greeted by everyone as he walks down the street. Isn’t that the very essence of Adel Imam?”

While Hamed made a concerted effort to stay true to the book, there were minor deviations, most notably a scene in which Zaky mocks his gay neighbour Hatem. It is the only point in the film when it feels like Adel Imam is playing Adel Imam. “I admit this scene was added,” says Hamed. “But it was to show the sort of pressure Hatem has to go through on a daily basis because of his homosexuality; even from a neighbour who doesn’t necessarily dislike him. I also wanted to give the film some light-hearted release from all the swelling drama”.

Brave as they may be, the filmmakers did shy away from one of the novel’s essential elements - the corruption at the very top. In the movie there is no allusion to the business meeting that takes behind the palace walls. So brave yes, but apparently not suicidal. Did they fear the censors? Hamed confidently says “No!” Why not? “Because that scene bends reality too much.” Fearing he may sound like he’s pandering to the authorities, Hamed clarifies his position, “I’m not saying there can be no corruption at the top; I’m only saying it probably wouldn’t be handled that way. I felt that incident lacked subtlety and genuinely found it to be the weakest part of the novel, so I chose not to include it.” So it definitely wasn’t the censors? “We were actually surprised by the censors’ attitude to this project,” he says. “More so by the attitude of the Ministry of Interior who actually helped out by  giving us permits and clearing roads; both physical and metaphorical. They provided us with truckloads of soldiers and were genuinely helpful.” He smiles and says, “Who knows, perhaps one day they will regret it, but we were given some freedom and we took it.”