Morad Mostafa’s debut feature film, Aisha Can’t Fly Away, is bound to remind Indian viewers of the Dibakar Banerjee segment, Star, in the 2013 anthology film, Bombay Talkies. The point of commonality is that both these films feature a flightless bird—an emu in Star and an ostrich in Aisha—as a significant presence, more so a symbol of the predicaments and deadlocks in their protagonists’ lives. Set in the heart of Cairo, Aisha Can’t Fly Away spotlights groups of African migrant workers, specifically a Sudanese caregiver, Aisha (Buliana Simon). It’s a detailed, albeit conventional portrayal of immigrant lives in all their dreary, dismal, ugly reality. The stray rays of sunshine are the occasional meetups of the women workers, the joy of their song-and-dance.

The Arab language, Egypt-Sudan-Tunisia-Saudi Arabia-Qatar-France-Germany co-production was platformed in the Un Certain Regard section of the Cannes Film Festival 2025.

The narrative moves along a predictable path. You can see things coming from afar. There is co-option into the world of crime, drug-peddling and violent battles and shootouts between the migrants and the local gangs on the one hand. On the other hand is the tacit, institutionalised sexual exploitation of the vulnerable women at the hands of their misogynistic employees, one of them being the elderly, wheelchair-bound predatory client of Aisha. An additional layer is that of racial discrimination, with Aisha called a “filthy black woman” while being questioned about her proximity to a young Egyptian chef. He is a friend and confidant who often whips up a warm, comforting meal for her. Food becomes an act of generosity on his part and a symbol of solidarity between the two. The much-needed cheer in Aisha’s drab routine.

Along with all of this is the additional trouble she has to face, of being blackmailed by a gangster and having to compromise ethically to save herself from his clutches and be assured of safety and security. The conscience might hurt, but survival is the bigger necessity here. Capitulation is vital to carry on living, even as each day tests her endurance to its limits. There is a relentlessness and repetitiveness to her daily grind as she moves between her small apartment and the crowded streets, doing the household chores and the medical procedures and in between taking calls from back home. Shot in the Ain Shams area of Cairo, where the filmmaker spent his childhood and saw it getting transformed over the years into an African enclave, the film has a locational specificity, vibrancy and energy to it while reflecting its all-pervasive lawlessness and danger amid the milling crowds. The cast is composed largely of non-professional actors, including debutante Buliana Simon, who plays Aisha with just the perfect mix of righteous anger and uneasy resignation, her silent and stoic presence quite evidently containing a furious storm within. With the story told from her point of view, the camera also positions itself as her ally and captures her face in meaningful close-ups, as though taking us closer to her inner turmoil.

The ostrich is part of the parallel fantasy/surreal track that may not gel with the overall narrative design and storytelling, but the bird does become a persuasive metaphor for Aisha’s internalised constraints and the inability to break away from the cycle of interminable struggles. Add to it the elements of body horror—a rash that refuses to go away, the blood on her lips—and the element of being trapped gets heightened further. Will she remain forever grounded, or will she be able to flee to escape her limiting circumstances? The film is all about raising these questions rather than giving any clear answers.