In a year when Egyptian cinema is reconnecting with its emotional core, Fiha Eh Ya’ni (What’s the Big Deal?) emerges as a refreshing surprise. Romantic comedies are often seen as predictable, but director Omar Rushdy Hamed’s 2025 debut feature uncovers both humor and heartbreak in an unexpected theme: aging. The film is a charming, bittersweet story that subtly challenges the ageism prevalent on our screens.
The story follows Salah (Maged El Kedwany) and Laila (Ghada Adel), two lovers separated in their youth who meet again decades later. Older, wiser, and bruised by life, they rediscover each other and question whether fate allows second chances. What unfolds is a tender exploration of love when the world often assumes you are too old to feel it.
At first glance, Fiha Eh Ya’ni may sound like another second-chance romance, but its tone sets it apart. It does not chase trends or idolize youth. Instead, it slows down and gives space to its characters. The film runs for two and a half hours, yet it never drags. Instead, it takes its time to build emotional tension, allowing moments of silence and stillness to carry meaning. Every pause, glance, and hesitation feels deliberate, a reflection of people who have lived long enough to know that words are not always enough. Rather than rushing toward resolution, the film lets its emotions simmer, rewarding patient viewers with depth and honesty.
El Kedwany delivers one of the finest performances of his career. He plays Salah with a tenderness that feels lived-in and heartbreakingly real. He is a man who has loved, lost, and learned to make peace with what he cannot control. His gift for balancing humor and pain shines here: one minute, he has the audience laughing; the next, he silences the theater with a single, vulnerable look. It is easily his most complete performance in years.
His co-star, Adel reminds us why she remains one of Egypt’s most beloved screen presences. There is quiet confidence in her portrayal of Laila, a woman torn between who she was and who she has become. Her chemistry with El Kedwany feels genuine and lived-in as their scenes together pulse with nostalgia, awkwardness, and joy. You smile when they smile, you ache when they hesitate, and their shared nostalgia becomes your own.
Mostafa Gharib, who plays Salah’s son-in-law, Alaa, brings perfectly timed comic relief, while Asmaa Galal, Nada, surprises with one of her most grounded roles yet. As Salah’s daughter, her protectiveness feels deeply human, rooted in grief, not melodrama.
However, their roles raised some eyebrows. One viewer put it bluntly: “How are Asmaa Galal and Mostafa Gharib, who aren’t even 30, supposed to have a teenage daughter? I’m tired of the lack of logic in Egyptian cinema.” In the movie, Asmaa Galal and Mostafa Ghareib have a teenage daughter which would only make sense if they have gotten married in their teenage years. This age issue is a recurring frustration in local films, where casting actors in unrealistic family roles undermines the story’s credibility. It is a small but noticeable flaw in an otherwise emotionally authentic film.
Technical execution: from script to cinematography
What truly elevates Fiha Eh Ya’ni is its refusal to pity or ridicule its older protagonists. Instead, it reframes aging as another stage of possibility. The film’s existence alone defies a culture that treats middle-aged love as comic or tragic. Here, love later in life is neither. It is just love: awkward, passionate, and deeply human. As one reviewer noted, the film is “It’s cinema for people over-fifty…calm, reflective, and I’m proud of it.”
Hamed’s direction is patient and confident which are rare qualities in a market dominated by noise and speed.
His visual style leans toward warmth and intimacy, framing his actors in golden light and quiet domestic spaces. The cinematography beautifully captures the nostalgia and warmth of Heliopolis; its timeless buildings, faded colors, and sunlit balconies perfectly reflecting the story’s themes of memory and longing. Even the soundtrack, with its film noir–style background music, complements rather than overwhelms the film’s tone. This warmth is deliberately contrasted with colder, sterile scenes set in the city’s modern compounds, subtly critiquing how emotional emptiness often parallels architectural isolation.
As one online reviewer wrote “ The film highlights how the new cities feel lifeless. Unlike the neighborhoods we grew up in, which have real soul. Places where neighbors know each other, you can take a walk, buy something from the kiosk, run errands, or drink tea on the sidewalk with your friends, and so on… unlike the ugly stand-alone villas in gated compounds.”
The screenplay, filled with honest dialogue and memorable monologues, carries emotional weight without resorting to sentimentality. Some lines feel simple, but their sincerity makes them linger. The film believes people can still hope, still love, and still change, no matter their age.
Beyond the Obvious
Beyond its story, Fiha Eh Ya’ni taps into a broader movement in Egyptian cinema, one that values maturity over spectacle. In a culture obsessed with youth, it celebrates endurance. Its success at the box office, nearing EGP 60 million (USD 1.3 million) shows audiences are eager for stories about lasting love, not only first love.
Ultimately, Fiha Eh Ya’ni is a film about time, how it changes us, tests us, and sometimes brings us back to where we began. It’s about second chances, not only in love but in life itself.
Most importantly, it dares to say that getting older does not mean fading away. In doing so, it redefines what romance looks like in Egyptian cinema today: not glittering youth and perfection, but two imperfect people choosing love anyway.
The opinions and ideas expressed in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the views of Egyptian Streets’ editorial team.
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