Egyptian girls open up about their problems – and hopes – in The Brink of Dreams [+lee también:
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entrevista: Nada Riyadh, Ayman El Amir
ficha de la película], shown in the Critics’ Week at Cannes. They believe in action and form an all-female street-theatre troupe, loudly saying what others don’t even dare to think. But reality catches up with them, too. Directors Nada Riyadh and Ayman El Amir tell us more.

Cineuropa: Girls from the Barsha troupe always interact with their audience. They point at them and ask all sorts of personal questions. Did they behave this way with you, too?
Nada Riyadh: Of course. It was a two-way street. They would ask, and we would answer truthfully, but we didn’t include our answers in the film. It’s about them and their stories. We first met them when we were working with a Cairo-based feminist institute that supports women in the arts, especially in marginalised communities. We travelled to the south of the country, getting to know different art collectives. The first time we met them, they were in the middle of a street performance. We kept in touch; I think it was back in 2017. Whenever we were in the south, we would stop by and visit. A year later, they asked us to come and screen our first film [Happily Ever After] in the village.

Ayman El Amir: Back then, we didn’t really know that much about them – we only knew them through theatre, and we knew how they challenge traditions. Then, bit by bit, they started to introduce us to their own world, to their parents and families. They don’t have any formal theatre education. They use their instincts and background to inform their performances.

Developing this film took a very long time. The key, for us, is to build trust and a relationship – also with the girls’ families and basically with the whole village. You want to have access, but also to become a part of their daily lives. At first, they were very aware of our presence and of the camera, so it was also a matter of patience. Still, I have to say the most challenging part of this whole process was the editing. When you shoot for over four years, you end up with hundreds of hours of footage. Every three minutes you see came out of three hours of us just being there.

You can tell their audience is shocked by their words sometimes. Do they come up with these stories themselves? Or did the camera make them feel braver?
NR: The camera allows people to really confront things in their lives. But it affected their personal paths more than their art.

AEA: The main challenge was to shoot all of these things while making sure we could disappear. When you are surrounded by so many people, it’s hard to be invisible. People look at you, they are posing. That’s why the girls had to get used to our presence. They are the only all-female street-theatre group in Egypt right now. They are, and they always were, uncompromising. They were wondering how cinema could be used as a tool of expression as well, as a tool of change, because theatre lets them survive. Without it, they can’t express themselves: it’s an organic part of their existence. They do consider themselves as artists and have very big dreams. One wants to study in Cairo; others want to be singers or ballerinas.

With this kind of film, you cannot help but hope everything is going to be alright. But their families don’t always support what they do, and even young men repeat hurtful statements. Did you have to stay hopeful, but also realistic?
AEA: When you are that close to your protagonists, you have to hope for the best outcome. At the same time, you have to keep your distance. We talk about patriarchy here, and patriarchy doesn’t always allow for a happy ending.

NR: It’s also about capitalism because I’ve heard someone say to them so many times: “If you are not making real money, it’s not art.” It’s an argument designed to keep them down, to keep them in “their place”.

You are still planning to work with the girls, and you are developing an impact campaign that will give them another excuse to perform, but I can imagine it wasn’t easy to move on after the film was done, correct?
AEA: It’s our second, so we are used to it now. It’s also difficult for them – we were basically living with them! We still have a relationship, even though we don’t see each other that often.

NR: For me, it’s still very emotional. Maybe because it’s also about letting go of the film?

How – and why – do you direct together? Was it always the plan?
NR: We are a couple! We are excited by each other’s cinematic voices, and cinema is a way to communicate with each other. It deepens our personal relationship. We also share similar values, and it’s always very stimulating and inspiring to feed off each other’s thoughts and ideas, and develop how our visions can come to life cinematically. At the end of every project, we make sure that every frame and every cut is completely representative of the two of us. But getting there isn’t easy.