Available for a limited season in Australian multiplex cinemas after a blockbuster run in its homeland and surrounding territories, director Wael Ehsan’s sappy, silly Miss Mommy features a spirited lead turn from Egyptian comedian Yasmin Abdulaziz, a soft-hearted centre and a knack for frantic physical schtick.
there is more face-slapping and skull-cracking in Miss Mommy than a Three Stooges film
Ehasan’s take on the duality of life as a modern Middle Eastern woman runs long and lacks logic, but it’s also warmly engaging and occasionally very funny. It’s the third in a hugely successful series of socially aware and commercially palatable films in which Abdulaziz has explored family and career issues in modern Egypt; Al Dada Doody looked at the role of the housemaid in a home left without a mother, while Al Thalasa Yeshtaghloonaha tackled the complexities of college-age romance in a diverse campus community.
When we first meet our heroine, the notion of spending a feature film in her company seems daunting. Aggressively kid-phobic and so averse to marriage that she chastises a mother-of the-bride for letting her daughter proceed with the ceremony, she instead remains determinedly career-focussed and utterly content with her materialistic lifestyle.
It’s an unflattering portrait of modern women in the corporate world, and these early scenes, in which she bullies subordinates and is leered at by passers-by, may rankle those sensitive to the region’s traditional gender roles. Some audiences may also struggle with Ehasan’s preoccupation with physical comedy, some of which borders upon abuse; there is more face-slapping and skull-cracking in Miss Mommy than a Three Stooges film.
When her unbelievably patient boyfriend (Hassan El Raddad) proposes, she laughs it off, instead choosing to fly to Paris on a whim. During the flight, she must endure a lecture on the joys of family life from the shrill, obnoxious matriarch of an out-of-control family. This leads to a dream-state transition into a life in which she becomes a slightly chubbier, far less affluent housewife/mother-of-three.
An ever-present aspect of Khaled Galal’s script suggests the production favours one particular side in the career-vs.-family debate: Abdulaziz’s characterisation and appearance certainly soften when she begins to fully embrace the joys of life as a mum. (It’s hard to swallow at times, given the 'exuberant’ personalities of the child actors.) It’s not until well into the third act that the narrative provides a counterpoint and a degree of balance is restored.
Particularly well-handled is the use of the high-concept 'alternate reality’ device, a pleasing element that harkens back to the good ol’ days of the mid-'80s, when Hollywood films like Big, Peggy Sue Got Married and Chances Are engaged a large, cynicism-free percentage of the population.
