Inspired by the words of the renowned Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish, Tunisian director Sarah Abidi titles her new film “Looking for Ayda,” screened at the Cairo International Film Festival, after a line from his poem: “You will forget as if you never were, like a passing love…” This reference encapsulates the film’s central idea, people who move through life quietly, without noise, whose struggles and existence often go unnoticed, despite their emotional depth and human significance.
Starring Zineb Al-Maliki, Nour Al-Hajri, Mohamed Yehya Al-Jaziri, Yusra Kalaai, Fatma Al-Falhi, and Sundus Belhassen, the film marks Abidi’s second feature after three short films.
It is a work that observes, listens, and reflects rather than loudly declares, offering a sensitive, intimate exploration of loneliness and emotional exhaustion in contemporary working life.
The film follows Ayda, a young woman who takes a job at a call center, initially intending it to be temporary until she finds employment in her actual field of study.
Ten years later, she is still there, trapped within its walls, worn down by endless working hours, and slowly losing her connection to the outside world.
With no family nearby and no circle of friends, Ayda finds herself emotionally stranded, watching her life pass without momentum or fulfillment.
Abidi presents Ayda’s internal struggle with patience and quiet honesty.
The film becomes not just a story of professional stagnation, but of a woman confronting the sinking realization that her youth, vitality, and hopes are slipping away.
Zineb Al-Maliki delivers a deeply moving performance, portraying the emotional weight of routine and the silent panic of a woman aware that she is disappearing into her work.
Her expressions tell the story even when dialogue does not, especially in scenes where she gazes at her own reflection: in a mirror, a window, a cup of coffee, a mountain view, or even in the younger women around her.
Through this recurring visual motif, the cinematography creates a poetic language of its own. Ayda is constantly looking for herself, searching for signs that she still exists, that she is still alive.
In small, delicate moments such as choosing clothes, putting on makeup, kneading bread, cooking, or stealing a brief phone call with her mother, the film shows Ayda’s attempt to cling to warmth, womanhood, and humanity in a life dominated by cold routine.
One of the most compelling emotional threads is Ayda’s unspoken affection for Yehya, a colleague she silently waits for, hoping he will recognize her loneliness and take one small step toward her, a phone call, a comforting word, even a brief embrace.
Yet Yehya remains distant, confined to professional boundaries, ignoring the signals she sends in silence.
This storyline is emotionally powerful but raises questions the film does not answer. Is Yehya in love with her but afraid to act? Is he married, and therefore keeping his distance? Is Aida’s love imagined or real? These are among several emotional questions left unexplored.
While the film succeeds in atmosphere, emotion, and visual storytelling, its narrative structure has some weaknesses.
Major elements of Ayda’s life remain unclear: Why is she living far from her family? What is the real nature of her relationship with Yehya? What consequences await her at work? and, What is the ultimate fate of her personal or professional journey?
The film prefers suggestion over exposition, but in doing so, it leaves many audience members seeking answers the script never provides.
“Looking for Ayda” is a delicate, poetic, and visually expressive film that gives voice to the quiet suffering of thousands of women whose lives become consumed by work, solitude, and unfulfilled dreams.
Despite its narrative gaps, the film remains an affecting and beautifully crafted portrait of emotional isolation in modern urban life.
Sarah Abidi delivers a cinematic meditation on the people who pass by us every day, softly, silently.
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