I still vividly remember the first time I saw this film, back in the early 1990s. I was lucky enough to watch it on a 35mm print. From its very first moments, the opening score left a mark on me—and to this day, it still haunts me. It was unlike anything we were used to hearing in Arab cinema at the time: more like a wail, a lament, or perhaps a warning of the emotional journey the film was about to take us on. It was the perfect sonic prelude to the story of Hazinah of the Karnak village—and her daughter and granddaughter—as written by Yehia Taher Abdullah, and masterfully brought to life on screen by the great Khairy Beshara.

A truly unforgettable film that doesn’t fade with time. It felt more like an experience than a movie—an elegy for a family whose men have vanished. As I expected, the ending etched itself deep into my memory. I must admit, I hesitate every time I think of rewatching it. Since 1992, I’ve only seen it three times, but each time I think of it, its echoes stir within me—as if the film had never ended, only fallen silent for a while. — AHMAD AMEEN