fter arriving on set, producer Loubna (Salma Abu Deif) contends with various people and predicaments, though it’s mostly inconsequential small talk with the director (Amir Salaheldin), the nearly 70-year-old star Mr. Farouk (Emad Rashad), and other assistants and crew, who bustle about in preparation for the shooting of a commercial. Though it proceeds smoothly enough, it remains irksome when the leading man can’t seem to follow the basic decorums of a film stage, such as silencing his phone. And when he answers a call, he learns of an event that may take him away for the day, which will cause everyone present to lose the opportunity to work – and for the production to waste a substantial amount of funds.

Curiously, production manager Magdi (Emad El Tayeb) dons the role of the hardhearted, no-nonsense taskmaster, while Loubna attempts to maintain an air of compassion and understanding. Nevertheless, there are budget constraints and timelines that must be met, as well as an unusual monetary penalty, which sounds severe but isn’t detailed in a manner that conveys to audiences why such a forfeiture would be exacted. As every emotional angle is examined, from mourning to pity to apathy to anger, debates and negotiations arise, centering around legal recourses, livelihoods, and dedication. And each of the players emote exceptionally well, giving convincing performances as they strive to persuade one another of their stances.

Yet without the knowledge of the weight of the consequences (could it actually lead to destroyed careers or unmanageable fines?), it’s difficult to favor one choice over another; it’s hard to know who is right or wrong, even when it appears as if there’s a specific moral righteousness (or, alternately, an unscrupulousness) to the dilemmas in the characters’ situations (for example, it’s likely not obvious that in this particular environment of widespread Islamic beliefs, certain prayers and ceremonies take place within tight windows of time – a fact that had dramatic inspirations for director Karim Shaaban, who based the premise on lived experiences). Audiences may assume that Loubna’s actions are either acceptable or unprincipled or manipulative, but the gravity of missing out on finishing the commercial is vague at best (just like the personal significance of the main actor’s straits). Either way, the finale, though terribly predictable, reveals a complexity to her persona, commenting on the lengths people go to succeed in cutthroat industries. Perhaps more amusing than any attempt to parse her selection for ethical implications, however, is the closing shot, which exhibits the commercial itself – something much easier to analyze in its crushing, tragic triviality.

– Mike Massie