Arzé

II watched this movie in San Francisco and absolutely loved it. The main character is both strong and vulnerable, and the actress delivers a phenomenal performance. The scene between her and her sister was incredibly poignant and really moved me. The film portrays Beirut and Lebanon, along with its complicated sects, in a simple yet impactful way. I also enjoyed the side characters, particularly the shop owner and the junkyard manager. Overall, the film features a fantastic cast and beautiful cinematography that showcases the beauty of the region like I've never seen before. It reminded me of "Capernaum," which I loved a few years ago. This is an excellent film overall, and I highly recommend it.

A layered, emotionally rich, and visually vibrant piece with a well-balanced rhythm, the film delivers a series of clever, nuanced jabs at Lebanese national culture. Even though many of us-myself included-may not be fully familiar with the political and cultural intricacies of Lebanon, the shared identity of the Middle East creates an undeniable sense of closeness.

The film subtly exposes the deep-rooted social, political, and cultural divisions of its setting, especially poignant in today's context. And it does so with wit and sophistication, allowing the critique to emerge organically from its narrative.

It's a film capable of resonating with a wide range of audiences-accessible without being simplistic, engaging without being didactic.

The performances are convincing, the cinematography is effective, and every element-while not overly showy-serves its purpose well. There's a sense of equilibrium across the board, where no single aspect overshadows another. That harmony, in my view, is a mark of true directorial skill.

Director Mira Shaib's Arzé is a cinematic triumph in simplicity, infusing humor and heart into a poignant exploration of Lebanese society's deep-seated complexities. What begins as a straightforward quest to recover a stolen scooter unfolds into a layered narrative about identity, division, and resilience, making it a rare gem in contemporary Arab cinema.

At its core, Arzé uses the Lebanese societal structure as a lighthearted canvas to discuss sectarianism without overwhelming the viewer. The story cleverly weaves humor into the gravity of the subject, portraying how each community blames the other, reflecting deeply ingrained biases. The brilliance lies in its comedic lens-turning stereotypes into moments of self-reflection for its audience.

The filmmaker skillfully portrays the cultural distinctions between the clans through meticulous attention to detail. Beyond each group using a different name for a scooter, their unique identities are further emphasized through clothing styles and dialects, painting a vivid picture of societal diversity. This deliberate layering of visual and linguistic cues enriches the narrative, subtly showcasing how these differences shape perceptions and interactions among the communities.

The film's narrative symmetry is masterful. The return to the gift shop acts as a narrative anchor, launching Arzé's journey and tying together her smaller missions. Every scene, including the unforgettable pierce-stealing moment, is meticulously timed, offering insights into her growth as a character. What starts as a mission to recover her livelihood morphs into a confrontation with the parts of her life she has avoided. This progression, where Arzé faces the truths she has long surrendered to, is both cathartic and empowering played gracefully and brilliantly by Diamand Bou Abboud

Visually, Arzé shines with smartly framed shots. Close-ups expose the psychological tension of its characters, while medium shots emphasize the socio-cultural dynamics of each encounter. The adventure highlights the absurdity of small, yet telling, cultural details-like how each clan uses a different name for a scooter, and their conflicting pride or disdain for the item.

The pies in Arzé are a stroke of genius, doubling as a currency and a symbol of human connection. They underline how survival and negotiation transcend money in communities deeply divided yet intricately intertwined. Similarly, the set design-the outdated fan and telephone-evokes a timelessness rooted in either financial constraints or cultural inertia.

Arzé also breaks new ground for Arab cinema as a feel-good movie. Eschewing grandiose tales of riches or redemption, it celebrates the small victories of everyday life. Its mundane triumphs-the kind that don't change lives but make them more bearable-are a refreshing departure from the typical narratives of struggle and success.

The film's ending, though it's arguably predictable, is executed with grace. It's the kind of closure that feels earned-satisfying yet subtle. Shaib's wisdom as a filmmaker shines here, proving that a predictable ending can still resonate deeply when handled with care and intentionality.

Adding authenticity, the actors are cast from the communities they represent, grounding the film's comedy in lived experiences. The subtle nod to The Bicycle Thief enhances its universal appeal while placing it firmly within the tradition of socially conscious filmmaking.

The film delivers exceptional performances, engaging drama, and an authentic narrative, with touches of humor in just the right places. It offers viewers a rare glimpse into Lebanon, particularly the vibrant yet intricate life in Beirut, capturing the multifaceted complexities of the era. The story weaves together a tapestry of interactions: the tender yet challenging relationship between a single mother and her son, the dynamics between sisters, the essence of neighborhoods, and the intersection of different cultures. It sheds light on the cultural diversity in Lebanon, exploring the differences and stereotypes among ethnic groups and communities. At its core, the film carries a resonant message-perseverance and hard work will ultimately lead you to your goals. Through its vivid storytelling, the movie paints a nuanced picture of human relationships and cultural nuances, offering both heartwarming and thought-provoking moments.

Everybody wants a piece of Arzé when all she does is the best she can to support them. It is very triggering to see her ungrateful son and her deluded sister rip into her when things come to a head. Arzé is who she is because she had to, she was forced to by a deadbeat husband who left her when pregnant.

Clever way of showing us Beirut and its diverse culture and politics, the various "sects" as the subtitles call it, as Arzé and Kinan scour through the city for that blasted scooter. It's tense but also funny in a way how they all mistrust each other. The shop lady was to die for.

It says and shows a lot about the culture and the state of the country in the scope of an apparent family drama. I appreciated that. It might be biased but I wouldn't be able to tell anyway. You can only be biased about government and social unrest anyway.

And I can't believe we actually got a happy ending for this.