IN THE SO-called sex scene in the romantic drama Dantella (Lace, 1997), the camera cuts to the leading lady, who is supposed to run seductively down a sand dune. But her rather large derriere, the grandmother frock she is wearing and the fact that she rolls, trips and falls clumsily across the sand turns “sexy” into “funny” — and turns the audience off completely.

Family, sex and love — three simple words holding thousands of connotations and a wealth of material for filmmakers to work with. In Hollywood, the mantra is “sex sells,” and Western directors make extensive use of the satisfaction-guaranteed gimmick. Look at the box-office numbers here, however, and it seems that that sex — or at least a thought-provoking treatment of it — just doesn’t sell in Egyptian film today.

It’s not for lack of attempts. Like any film industry, Egyptian cinema has seen its share of the good, the bad and the ugly on screen. Since the turn of the millennium, directors and actors have been taking risks, trying to shake up the stereotypes of relationships by presenting issues running the gamut from adultery, premarital sex or just plain promiscuity. But it’s a shake-up that people aren’t sure is warranted or needed.

It’s not the censors who are making this decision — far from it. The mere fact that films such as Omaret Yacoubian (Yacoubian Building, 2006)), Baheb El-Cima (I Love Cinema, 2004), Sahar El-Layali (Sleepless Nights, 2003) and Asrar El-Banat (Girls’ Secrets, 2001) were released at all indicates that official censoring of films (stifling religious, political and social issues on-screen) has eased to a certain extent.

“We have a very tolerant and intelligent chairman of the board of censorship, Ali Abou Shadi, who is very open-minded and doesn’t have a problem with hard scenes,” says actress Hind Sabry, a top actress and member of the star-studded Yacoubian cast. (Shadi became president of the Egyptian Arts Administration in 1996, and during his tenure he has allowed some racier scenes to be allowed into film.)

Sabry speaks from experience: She has never been shy about tackling characters that don’t fit the ‘good girl’ mold of Egyptian society, with controversial roles in films including Mozakarat Morahika (Diaries of a Teenage Girl, 2001) and Malik we Kitaba (Heads and Tails, 2005).

This decade has seen a rise in films tackling issues of sexuality, such as Sahar El-Layali.

Mahmoud El-Lozy, a professor of theater at the American University in Cairo, says that it is the family-based audience that appears unready — and unwilling — to see intimacy on the big screen. He notes that the handful of films that have attempted to address topics of sexual relations have more often than not been spurned by audiences.

There are exceptions to El-Lozy’s theory. The critically acclaimed Omaret Yacoubian is an excellent example of how far the censors’ and audiences’ boundaries have expanded. With a number of graphic and garish scenes, the film tackled all aspects of social life in Egypt, from religiosity to homosexuality. It was also was one of the most successful Arab films of 2006, raking in LE 6 million in the June 25 opening week and LE 20 million over its entire run — typically, films are considered commercial successes if they net LE 4-6 million and are smash hits when they hit LE 10 million in box office.

A more conservative Egypt of the 1980s and early 1990s might never have allowed Yacoubian to see the light of day. Herein lies the paradox: While it is arguable that we are becoming more religious as a society, cinema has begun — and continues — to step outside the realm of religiosity. While there are many conservative viewers who will still shun what they deem to be a risqué production, others appear to be more willing to accept these movies, albeit with a raised eyebrow and perhaps a sneer.

Come Wednesdays, when new movies are released nationwide, check the marquee of your local cinema. Odds are very good that the Arabic fare will be comedic and light — fun, maybe, but far from the dramas of yesteryear.

Aziz Shah Director Inas El-Degheidy (left) regularly challenges taboos in her films.

“When you talk about these films [that deal with sexual relations], they become the odd ones out,” says Mohamed Khan, director and writer of acclaimed films including Banat West El-Balad (Downtown Girls, 2005) and Ayam El-Sadat (Days of Sadat, 2001). “They shouldn’t be the odd ones out.”

Distribution is a big obstacle for serious films of any topic, much less sexuality, with the non-serious flicks stealing the spotlight. Khan feels audiences are not given enough of a selection.

“You have [the same] four or five movies playing everywhere, leaving people with limited choices,” says Khan, who believes all types of films are important, from the romantic comedies that have taken over the big screen of late to local attempts at action movies. “Directors and production companies should take a chance at variety and not just settle for the movies guaranteed to be a success. Every film genre has its time — right now, it’s just a rather silly time.”

The director says the problem isn’t due to the censors, since the more serious films are eventually released, even after bans, nor is it technically the audience’s fault. “People expect all types of films,” he insists.

So, if the audience wants variety and the censors are allowing more films to be screened, why aren’t we seeing more genres grace the screen and why aren’t more serious issues being addressed?

Hind Sabry, shown here in Malik we Kitaba, says audiences are ready for adult issues, but film distributors are not.

“The trouble goes back to movie monopolies,” Khan says. “Going back 10 or 15 years, [the viewers had] a film by Youssef Chahine, Salah Abou Seif, Ashraf Fahmy, Ahmed Fouad — you had a variety that does not exist today.”

He is quick to point out that production and distribution companies are only catering to demand as measured in box-office receipts, and given a choice between a film that makes them think and one that makes them laugh, Khan asserts, people will always opt for the funnier movie, one that won’t necessarily make you worry about your wife or children watching it.

Producers, too, would rather draw the whole family in to watch a movie, as opposed to just one or two adults who come to the cinema alone: LE 100 for a family of five is infinitely more appealing than LE 40 for just husband and wife.

Sabry wholeheartedly agrees that the dearth of serious films isn’t a question of morals but of money. “Some directors and distributors are worried about not making money. Their objections are not moral; [they] are purely financial.”

Khaled Abul Naga, who has also stared in controversial fare including Labet El-Hob (The Game of Love, 2006) and Sahar El-Layali, sees distribution as a killer problem.

“Some films fail to reach people,” he says. “A free economy and less of a monopoly will allow some really excellent films to reach people. This will encourage those who make these movies to make more of them.”

The actor feels that production companies and theaters need to understand that society is starting to change its perceptions in regards to theater and arts, he suggests, as viewers are starting to be more accepting of the controversial films tackling serious topics. Risk-taking is what is needed, especially since risks have started to pay off —witness the success of films like Sahar El-Layali and Omaret Yacoubian.

This is not to say that family-oriented flicks are totally “clean,” to use film-critic-speak. Almost every film contains some allusion to sex, whether it’s a romantic movie or slapstick comedy. The innuendo is very much there, it just isn’t as controversial as it is in movies that make sexual relationships the focus of the plot.

“The dancers and the singers who dance on the screen are stripped of their humanity,” explains El-Lozy, adding that the objectification of sex, of women as something to be looked at, is not an issue for many a cinemagoer. “But when taken out of the context of the whore, when it has to do with gender power and class issues, [that is] when it becomes sensitive.”

Put simply, while audiences hardly blush at the provocative dances, dirty song lyrics, and plentiful cleavage in full display, they don’t respond well to more serious issues.

Asrar El Banat is a case in point. The film, about a teenage girl who gets pregnant by her teen boyfriend, offers an insightful look at the reactions of her family. Many considered the movie racy and exploitative, not because of the sex, but because the main character, the daughter of upstanding people in a middle- to upper-class family, was pregnant out of wedlock. “It shocked the audience,” El-Lozy says. “When [you ask] what do issues of human sexuality mean socially and politically, it becomes a moral question.”

Public outcry aside, controversial films have been successful in both cinemas and video sales and are being screened more often on top satellite channels including Melody Films and Rotana. Nevertheless, it could be argued that satellite channels are still hesitant to show the films. As El-Lozy points out, the infamous El-Lemby slapstick comedies are aired every week, while a film like Mowatan Wa Mokhber Wa Harami (A Citizen, a Detective and a Thief, 2001) is screened far less often and usually only after 9pm.

While Asrar El-Banat sparked debate because it dealt with teenage sex and pregnancy, issues such as homosexuality have blithely insinuated themselves into a number of Egyptian films over the decades. “[Homosexuality] was put in the front of [films such as The Yacoubian Building],” says Khan, “but in many others it’s put in the back, showing the gay character behaving in a feminine way.”

Homosexuality in film is rarely ever discussed as shocking or groundbreaking. Unacceptable, yes — as can be gauged by some angry reactions — but not so shocking. Yacoubian was hardly the first: 1993’s Disco, Disco baldly discussed drugs and sex, with a homosexual character as out of the closet as can be.

Most recently, director Inas El-Degheidy, who has been hailed as the queen of big screen sexual controversy, brought homosexuality to the forefront with two openly gay dancers in her 2006 film Mateegy Neros (an Egyptian version of Shall We Dance, 2004). During an interview on the Hala Sarhan Show on Rotana, El-Degheidy and the cast talked about dancing and discussed sex and love as taboos that needed to be addressed. What was not even brought up were the film’s gay scenes, one of which showed a man lounging with his head provocatively placed on the other man’s lap.

There are those who argue that films are simply depicting a segment of reality without necessarily saying if the issue or topic is right or wrong.

“It’s a problem with the people making and producing movies,” says Sabry. “It is not the function of cinema to tell people what is right or wrong — there shouldn’t be a right or wrong in movies. There should be artistic opinions; not moral judgments. I am confident that people are starting to like these films and accept them. The success of the Yacoubian Building proves this.”

Abul Naga agrees that sexual intimacy is a pivotal aspect of life and should not be excluded from the silver screen. “[Sex needs to be] represented accurately and honestly, to be there for more than the sake of just being there,” he says.

Sabry feels there is a vital need for people to start talking about issues. “When you have a problem, it’s going to get bigger if you don’t speak about the symptoms. It gets harder to talk about it,” the actress says. “Cinema is one of the best ways to talk about [sex or any problem]. It is art — it’s not direct and it isn’t propaganda.”

Still, producers must meet audience demand if they want to make money, and El-Lozy is not so confident that cinemagoers agree with the two film stars. “The audience and the film critic act like the vice police,” he argues. “The censor is more enlightened.”

Khan agrees. “It is shocking and people don’t like the truth. One way or the other, it is a conservative society, people whisper things.” But, the director adds, “sex can’t be completely excluded from life. It should be treated in a realistic manner and without embarrassment; and not always with nudity.”

Directors could do well to take a leaf out of Khan’s book. Many portray sexuality in Egyptian film with a certain ‘ick’ factor; in many cases, the scenes are shot in a vulgar and rather repulsive manner.

“[Sex is] not what makes a movie good or bad, makes a film interesting or not,” Sabry points out. “Ninety percent of love scenes in Arab cinema are artistically very bad because some directors have issues, don’t have the freedom to do these scenes in a creative way.”

The absence of creativity and expertise in local films makes it impossible for a subtle sex scene to find its way into a film. Even in critically acclaimed movies, the sex looks like rape, where you want to look away, or laughable, as with Dantella.

Should Egyptian moviemakers shy away from sex scenes until they can do them better, or is trial and error the only way to get anywhere? The sooner the Egyptian filmmaker forgoes flabby legs and unflattering red satin lingerie, the sooner sex will simply be accepted as just another part of the film.

Sabry, whose controversial roles have made her no stranger to criticism, will be happy to see that day. “There is too much focus on sex and sex scenes; I would rather there be no scenes so we don’t upset people, but talk about other things,” says Sabry. “Even if directors had unlimited freedom, they still wouldn’t like to do love scenes — not because it’s not moral, it’s just not interesting. A guy kissing a girl, then what? There are more [pressing] things to talk about in society.”  et