DÉFENSE D’AIMER

“In Egypt, 85 per cent of people are Muslim, so why pick from the 15 per cent of Christians?” The question – somewhat rhetorical as it could easily be heard as an injunction – becomes more complicated when May El Hossamy’s mother reminds her daughter that she herself had originally been Christian and had converted to Islam “so that [her children] would not be perturbed”. In Défense d’aimer, the filmmaker’s need to convince her mother and the whole of Egyptian society that her love is legitimate drives her to throw back at opponents the child’s question: “Why”? Soon, as in a tale from the Arabian Nights, one answers leads to another, and the old Muslim sage tells her to see the imam “if you want to know more”. Arguments and sophistries overlay a male domination that is neither national nor religious, but universal. The only interlocutor that remains: her beloved. And finally the ability to enter the image oneself by letting go of the shot-countershot – choosing the simplest mise en scène provides the ideal riposte to being forbidden to love. (Charlotte Garson)