In a major milestone for Egyptian cinema, filmmaker Morad Mostafa’s gripping Cairo-set thriller Aisha Can’t Fly Away has just had its world premiere in the Un Certain Regard section of the 78th Cannes Film Festival.
This marks Egypt’s first appearance in the festival’s second-most prestigious competition in nearly a decade, following Mohamed Diab’s Clash in 2016.
A co-production between Egypt, France, Germany, Tunisia, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Sudan, the film has garnered significant support, including grants from the Doha Film Institute, El Gouna Film Festival, Locarno Academy, and Cannes’ Cinéfondation.
The film centres on Aisha, a young Sudanese girl residing in Cairo’s working-class district of Ain Shams, known for its sizable African migrant community.
After encountering problems at her job as a caretaker, Aisha is forced to seek the protection of Zuka, a local gang member who holds power in the neighbourhood, while she finds herself forced to navigate the uneasy dynamics of gaining his favour.
Hard place to live
“I lived in Ain Shams,” explains Morad, recalling his period in one of Cairo’s densely populated districts, which became even more crowded after receiving refugees fleeing from the Sudanese civil war.
“It’s a complicated place. Egyptians, African migrants, gangs… all kinds of people are there,” he tells The New Arab.
For the director, it’s not just a memory, but a site of inquiry. “I asked myself, why don’t we have Egyptian films where the main characters are non-Egyptians? African migrants are usually background figures, extras with no story. I wanted to change that.”
Aisha Can’t Fly Away is the final piece in what Mostafa calls a loose trilogy. It began with Henet Ward (2020), which explores issues of racism and discrimination through the story of a Sudanese henna painter living in Egypt and her young daughter, followed by his acclaimed short I Promise You Paradise (2023), about a 17-year-old African migrant in Egypt who races against time to save his loved ones at any cost.
Each of these takes probes a different facet of Cairo’s migrant communities, yet Aisha Can’t Fly Away is his most intimate work – a film that abandons the road for something seen from a close-up viewpoint. “This time, she’s stuck,” he explains. “She’s going to hell, but quietly.”
The inspiration came unexpectedly. “I was on a public bus five years ago, and next to me sat a girl like Aisha. She suddenly woke up crying, screaming. Everyone was terrified. She left the bus, still crying. That moment never left me.”
From there, Morad imagined her world – her pain, her isolation, her past, and her dreams – culminating in a character both fierce and vulnerable.
“Egypt is a hard place to live,” Morad says. “For everyone. So what about someone like Aisha? A girl, a migrant, a domestic worker. It’s even harder.”
In his film, Aisha suffers under a triangular pressure: from Khalil, her abusive employer; from Zuka, the local thug; and from Abdoon, her emotionally ambivalent partner.
“They’re all Egyptian. Through them, I talk about Egyptian society. But from her point of view.”
Loneliness and magical realism
Aisha's loneliness is palpable. While surrounded by a community of fellow migrants, she remains profoundly isolated – a condition Morad conveys not only through silence, but symbolism.
“She’s like an ostrich,” he says. “An African bird that can’t fly. She has wings, but can’t escape.”
The film features a literal ostrich – a striking, near-magical creature that becomes a mirror of Aisha’s inner world. Just before Abdoon, the only person who shows her kindness, disappears, parallel to this, the ostrich is slaughtered on the kitchen table.
“By leaving without a trace, Abdoon kills the last good thing in her life,” Morad says. “And from there, she breaks.”
The decision to kill the ostrich was deliberate, marking a loss of innocence and hope. “It’s not just symbolic,” the filmmaker explains. “It’s emotional logic. Aisha has nothing left to protect, so something inside her turns violent, defensively violent.”
Despite the film’s documentary touch, Mostafa doesn’t shy away from moments of magical realism. Dreams, nightmares, and symbols blend seamlessly with the gritty texture of Cairo’s streets.
“Everyone told me to cut the magic,” he laughs. “In all the labs, they said it’s not necessary. But for me, it was essential. It brings us into Aisha’s mind. Into her silence. Into the world she can’t express in words.”
Fiction closer to reality
Morad worked closely with non-professional actors to build the film’s authenticity.
“It took months to find the right Aisha,” he says. “She had to be kind, strong, beautiful, and wounded — all at once.”
Buliana Simon who arrived in Cairo years ago to work as a maid, had never stood before a camera. “She worked in houses, like Aisha. Then she modelled. But this was her first time acting.”
As for the rapper Ziad Zaza in the role of Zuka, Mostafa cast him after meeting him at the El Gouna Film Festival. “I saw something in his eyes. That was enough.”
To develop the script, Morad collaborated with human rights advocate Mohamed Abdel Fader and spoke with dozens of girls during the casting process.
“I wanted real stories. Real data. I edited the script based on what they told me.” Many of the stories didn’t make it into the film, but informed its spirit.
“The hardest part was not discovering their lives – I already knew what was going on there. I lived among them. The hard part was telling it truthfully, respectfully.”
The film’s title speaks to its central paradox. Aisha is a girl with wings, but no sky. “She belongs and doesn’t belong,” Morad says. “Like the ostrich. An African creature grounded by something invisible.”
But Aisha’s suffering is not just metaphorical. In the film, her body breaks down. Her skin erupts with rash — a symptom of more than illness.
“It’s her pain in a transformation process,” he explains. “Her trauma, manifesting on the outside.”
Artistic confidence that pays back
Over five years, Aisha Can’t Fly Away evolved through multiple workshops and pitching labs, including El Gouna and Cannes.
“Most of the time I was fighting with the mentors,” Morad admits with a big smile. “Everyone wants you to tell their story. But I used the labs like a supermarket. I took only what I needed.”
And his firm independence of a young but confident in his positions director shows. In a region where migrant stories are often either pathologised or erased, Morad Mostafa insists on something more difficult – empathy without pity, realism without voyeurism.
Aisha Can’t Fly Away is not a film on loneliness and suffering only. It is about seeing the others – those we are used to overlooking.
Seeing Cairo, not just through Egyptian eyes, but through the eyes of the anonymous souls who walk its streets in silence.
Mariana Hristova is a freelance film critic, cultural journalist, and programmer. She contributes to national and international outlets and has curated programs for Filmoteca De Catalunya, Arxiu Xcèntric, goEast Wiesbaden, etc. Her professional interests include cinema from the European peripheries and archival and amateur films