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Caramel, which is performed in Arabic and French, was Lebanon's entry in the Oscar race as best foreign language film.
It did not make it to the final five nominations, but that was not for a lack of quality.
As a light-hearted yet razor-smart, bittersweet comedy about life in Beirut, Caramel has important things to say, including about the displaced position of women in an Arabic country.
It just says them on the sly.
And it never talks about the obvious -- the constant threat and the long history of war in one of the crossroads countries of the Middle East. That must take courage in a place where few films are made and much needs to be debated in every medium of the arts.
The title -- which is Sukkar Banat in its original language -- refers to the sugary concoction that Lebanese women cook up when they want to rip out unwanted hair. It takes the place of the wax used elsewhere.
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The story is set inside a Beirut beauty salon where four women work. One is played -- and beautifully -- by the co-writer and director, Nadine Labaki, who made a splash in Canada last September when she presented the North American premiere at the Toronto film festival. Caramel was one of the true discoveries of the Toronto fest.
Joining Labaki's character in the salon are three staff members played by Yasmine Al Masri, Joanna Moukarzel and Gisele Aouad. One of their friends and possible clients is an older woman with a tailor's shop next door. Through her, Sihame Haddad adds the fragile and poignant wisdom of an elder.
Each woman has her own agenda and challenges. Labaki deftly handles the ensemble and makes us feel so integrated into the story that we feel we are witnesses to reality. We feel we are perched on seats right inside the salon.
This is an inclusive, warm effect and puts the small fates in store for each woman into our circle of caring. Caramel generates a genuine empathy, yet Labaki never goes for cheap sentimentality. Nor is everything tied up nicely by the end. Like life, things can stay messy even when they get better.
Her own character of Layale, for example, is a complex one. While vivacious and intelligent, she is throwing her romantic life away by dating a married man, who is seen only as a shadowy figure.
He gives her little and takes a lot.
She is sad yet compelled to continue in the relationship.
This is a universal dilemma, of course, but here it is rooted entirely in the fabric of the society that Labaki introduces us to in the film.
Another interesting aspect of Caramel is that it cuts across cultures. Not everyone we follow in turn follows the same religion.
Yet they work out their problems together. Without any speeches on the matter, the film takes a subtle approach to suggesting how larger socio-political problems should be handled.
Caramel sounds like a candy-coated movie. And it does taste good. But the nutritional value is amazing.
(This film is rated 14-A)