Grooming and torture in the Middle East. By NINA FOWLER.

DIRECTOR Nadine Labaki’s debut feature is candid and charming. The plot is standard romantic comedy; the film as a whole a dusty, beautiful sweep of the lives of women in Beirut. Labaki herself plays salon-owner Layale, torn between her role as a dutiful Christian daughter and her troubled love for a married man. Beautician Nisrine (Yasmine Al Masri) faces a Muslim wedding night sans hymen. Jamale struggles to come to terms with her age; spinster Rose (Sihame Haddad) gets a last chance at romance. The supporting cast is familiar: cute cop, crazy old woman and handsome American. Where Caramel gets interesting is the intersection of these rom-com cliches with the reality of everyday life in Lebanon. Easy to identify with relationship and work troubles, less easy to relate to an armed soldier tapping on the window of your car.

This film is a pleasure to watch. We peer through windows and doors, the mirrors of the salon. Surfaces are grainy and luxurious. Dry light glints on bracelets, lamps, the caramel used to pluck hair from thigh. I find the workings of a New Zealand beauty salon exotic enough, the more experienced will still find plenty here to fascinate.

The production background is equally fascinating. Labaki studied media in Beirut then made her name making music videos and commercials. A chance meeting with a French producer inspired a winning application to attend the 2004 Residence du Festival de Cannes. Caramel was written during Labaki’s six months in Paris, as tension between Lebanon and Syria escalated. Production and shooting took place in the heady months after the Syrian withdrawal, and wrapped one week before Israel invaded in July 2006.

I can’t help but think of the scene in Waltz With Bashir where protagonist/director Ari Folman asks about the success of his falafel king friend. The matter-of-fact reply? “The Middle East is trendy. Health is trendy. Falafel is Middle Eastern and it’s healthy.” A comparison can be drawn to the success of Caramel. Female sisterhood is enjoyable. Exotic locations are enjoyable. Viewers will find this a fresh and competent blend of the two.


Standard Operating Procedure has proven impossible to exorcise. Several images (hood, leash, pyramid) were already hideously familiar. Other horrors (blood-soaked corridor, dogs on attack) were new. Then there are the shots of the perpetrators staring with wide, heavily made-up eyes into the camera as they tell their stories. Four years after the Abu Ghraib prison scandal, Errol Morris gives a comprehensive insight into how the infamous photos were taken, what they showed, and how judgement was passed on those responsible. While his intent is admirable and composition flawless, I wish the visuals had been left to speak for themselves.

“The big word that comes up for me is surreal. Everything you saw.”

The documentary opens onto a black screen. Photos taken by soldiers in Iraq fall back into a giant mosaic. Sunsets, soldiers watching TV, soldiers standing with thumbs up behind a pile of naked prisoners. It was a simple and highly effective introduction. Other visual effects were less palatable. Particularly painful were the slow motion helicopter explosion and use of tumbling aces to represent the death of key villains. Perhaps Morris meant to emphasise the surreality of the situation at Abu Ghraib. I found the plush visuals distracted rather than enhanced, especially when set against the heavy-handed soundtrack.

“You consider yourself already dead, so you can do what you gotta do.”

After two hours immersed in the grisly world of Abu Ghraib, it was somewhat surprising that the interviews with young Lynndie England and co. left such an impression. I put it down to Morris’ refusal to comment on the truth of what the interviewees say. He paid them to speak, then leaves them to it. The viewer must sift through the different accounts, scan faces to determine who is telling the truth. I saw few signs of genuine remorse. The variations on the “we didn’t kill ‘em, we just softened ‘em up” theme were particularly disturbing. “Softening up” refers to placing a hooded, sleep-deprived prisoner on a box under a cold shower, attaching wires to his fingers and telling him he’ll be electrocuted if he falls off. Even Sabrina Harman, who wrote letters home condemning what she saw, justifies this appalling act of torture with “it would have been meaner if he had actually been electrocuted... it was just words”.

“When we got there the example was already set... it was OK.”

The challenge facing the prosecution was to separate criminal activity from prison standard operating procedure. Torture and murder evidently carry different meanings in the septic alternate world of Abu Ghraib. Morale was low, frustration high, and there were huge power differentials between the immature young soldiers and the prison authorities. It is clear that “softening up” was standard practice and that more atrocities occurred than were documented. Again, the absence of exact answers is used to stimulate audience engagement. Similar restraint in other areas of post-production would have produced a far more subtle and effective film.