There’s a small satisfaction in settling into a movie after its critical early plot point arrives and allows for the rest of the narrative to unfold as it was dreamed up. In Cairo Time, Juliette (Patricia Clarkson) arrives in Cairo, Egypt to vacation with her husband Mark (Tom McCamus). He works for the United Nations and is kept away for who knows how long by a vague political conflict, leaving Juliette to explore the city on her own. In broad daylight on commercial city streets, she’s accosted and aggressively followed by random men. A bewildered Juliette explains the phenomenon to Tareq (Alexander Siddig), a dreamy-eyed ex-colleague of Mark’s who picked her up from the airport. He tells her that she’s “a very beautiful woman,” with an implied duh. Oh, okay. It’s Juliette’s fault. Tareq’s lame explanation gives way to his offer to accompany her outings, and now our critical movie moment arrives: Tareq will assume chaperone duties so that the pair can fall accordingly in love over the course of a few movie days and Cairo Time’s 90-minute runtime.
Writer and director Ruba Nadda couldn’t have known, but I happen to be sick of stories where visitors to new cities get a tour guide or accomplice out of a happenstance stranger who inevitably turns into an object of l-o-v-e. Capturing small moments that amount to genuine human connection between unfamiliar individuals is a lovely idea, but the dialogue and interactions shared by Juliette and Tareq as they winkingly get to know each other aren’t convincing as a means to that end. Their discussions go about as deep as Juliette’s superficial misunderstanding of the new culture surrounding her, and she and Tareq mostly, but only mildly and politely, disagree on whatever topic arises. For instance, Juliette feels sorry for street children that Tareq tells her to ignore, but she indulges them anyway, announcing she wants to develop a story about them for the magazine she works for. Tareq wonders aloud whether American readers would be interested in a story on Egyptian street children, and we kind of have to wonder, too: Of what interest is some white North American tourist’s shallow, fleeting pity? Of what interest is this white North American tourist’s short encounter with a complex new city?
Beyond a few transparently planted facts, we never learn much about either character, so it’s difficult to understand their motivations or to emotionally invest in them. In fact, it’s difficult to even care about them at all, and shouldn’t we at least deserve that? Clarkson’s Juliette walks around the city and talks in such a wilted, molasses manner that she seems permanently sedated. We get it — Egypt is hot. Beyond the obvious fact that she and Siddig are mutually attractive and their characters are placed in a temporary vacuum together, what else about Juliette and Tareq is compelling? (Well, maybe you don’t need much else for a brief international fling. Just guessing!)
If you were to guess that it was someone’s intention to write a love letter to Cairo via this movie, you’d probably be right: the rest of the film is packed with images that emphasize Cairo and its quirks (wild traffic, the heat), filling the moments meant to further the characters’ emotional intimacy. Shots capturing the Nile in distinct sunset phases are rightfully stunning, as is the way that the point of an ancient pyramid peers over trees and looms above the head of a golfer on a lush green pitch. But the camerawork and accompanying score fit for an Amelie sequel too often swell into excess. Nothing very ‘whimsical’ has even happened yet!, I kept thinking. Cairo the city may merit this kind of ornate homage, but the tedious love affair between Juliette and her Egyptian Romeo never rises to match its incubator.
