QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM THE RED SEA

The story takes place at the turn of the century, when Saudi Arabia was hermetically sealed from the rest of the world. Saify (Osama Alqess) runs a filthy cassette shop. He makes a living of selling banned sermons (given the time and the place, that’s more or less the equivalent to dealing crack in the UK). One day, he accidentally comes across the recording of a Sheik making some lewd comments, and expressing his desire to meet “two young, almond-shaped Bosnian women”. What may come across as a minor slip of the tongue to cynical Westerns used to “p***y-grabbing” world leaders, happens to be rather scandalous in a country defined by its moral virtues. In Saudi Arabia, even foul language can one in hot water. Saudi director and writer Wael Abu Mansour is well aware of this: not coincidentally, Saify does not spell out the orifice in which his associate should “shove that banana up”.

Our ambitious – however troubled – protagonist is well aware that he is in danger. So he seeks protection with his ex-wife Rabaah (Aixa Kay). The exact nature of their relationship is unclear: do they still love each other, are they mere friends, or something else? Rabia works as a spiritual healer, offering sessions to afflicted and confusing young women. It is not entirely clear for Westerns eyes whether her self-help therapy sessions are illegal, or at least socially reprehensible. And she lives with her more sceptical and pragmatic sister Rabiah (Nour Alkhadra), whose narrative function is as muddled as the relationship between Rabia and Saify.

Judging the the glitzy opening credits, the groovy music and some humorous tones in the beginning of the film (such as the first incursion into Saify’s crammed shop), I’d be forgiven for assuming that Saify is a comedy. Strangely, the story quickly morphs into something a lot more sombre and solemn, presumably a reflection of Saify’s dirty and tormented mind. His repeated dips in the Red Sea suggest that he is pursuing moral and spiritual cleansing. Ablution and absolution. The photography is often gloomy. What started out as lighthearted fun acquires a more profound dimension, often stumbling along the process. This is movie torn between priorities: at times it wants to be funny, other times it wants to make social comments, while also throwing in a little adrenaline-fuelled action. A real mash-up of genres.

The movie reaches its climax with a predictable ending. There is a a subtle social comment and also possibility of redemption. The filthy rich won’t always get away with their filthy ways. And a petty criminal with a good heart isn’t necessarily a bad person. Saify is a heavily bearded, middle-aged man with a quiet voice and sad eyes. He’s neither ugly nor good-looking, yet he is thoroughly likeable. Alqess delivers a very convincing performance. He creates a complex character, and a human being relatable on many levels. He is the familiar picaresque hero, in a battle versus a morally rotten antagonist of a high social stature (the Sheikh).

The plot of Saify is barely comprehensible for non-Arabs such as I (a frustration shared with another Western journalist with whom I watched the movie). The lack of cultural knowledge seriously compromises the viewing experience. Even locals seemed silent and unemotional: there was virtually no laughing, cheering and jeering during the actual film, Unlike recent Saudi films such as Night Courier (Ali Kalthami, 2023) and Norah (Tawfik Alzaidi, 2024), it is improbable that Wael Abu Mansour’s sophomore feature will receive widespread recognition in festivals such as Cannes and Toronto (where the two aforementioned films premiered). Both films were a lot more assertive with their taboo-breaking stories: Norah with women’s emancipation, and Night Courier with alcohol consumption and underground trafficking. Here’s hoping the nascent Saudi industry will continue to shatter old orthodoxies, and reveal a country that has indeed embarked on a real cultural revolution.

Saify just premiered in the Main Competition of the 4th Red Sea International Film Festival.