''Caramel'' explores beauty shop bonding in Beirut

As a likable but unexceptional comedy-drama about life, love and leg-waxing, "Caramel" is set in and around a Beirut beauty shop. It would be convenient to brand "Caramel" as the Lebanese version of "Steel Magnolias" or "Beauty Shop." That, though, would be an oversimplification.

It rallies a kind of underground sisterhood of women who worry about love and family while they pursue hairdos. It's more poignant than hilarious, but ultimately there are little slices of universal truth that turn Beirut, of all places, into an everyday, recognizable site. Like "The Band's Visit," about an Egyptian band stuck in a small Israeli town (also playing at Norfolk's Naro theater), it largely ignores the political trauma of its location in favor of human relationships.

"Si Belle" beauty parlor is somewhat rundown, with the "B" of its sign dangling precariously. The owner, Layale, is played by a striking, doe-eyed beauty named Nadine Labaki, who also is the director and writer.

Layale is having an apparently hopeless affair with a married man who never seems to quite be ready to leave his wife. Her humiliating efforts to rent, and clean, her own hotel rooms in preparation for dates he doesn't bother to keep make her a strangely sad woman. One wonders why she puts up with him. Eventually, you can bet, the wife comes to the beauty shop for treatment and turns out to be a nice woman who suspects nothing. He's no good right down to his habit of honking the horn for her rather than coming into the shop. But, after all, she knew he was married when she got into the relationship.

Cliches like this are plentiful, but "Caramel," which takes its title from the hot wax used for hair removal, seems to seek familiarity rather than melodrama.

Jamale, a customer, is terrified of aging and is obsessed with getting a job as an actress. Nisrine, the only Muslim among the Catholics, is terrified that her fiance might learn she is not a virgin - so terrified she's willing to undergo surgery. Rima, a hair stylist, is attracted to a female customer and is threatened as well as overjoyed by it.

Aunt Rose, in her 60s, has never had her hair done because she has never had any hope of attracting anyone. When she has a chance for a late-blooming romance, she sees it as conflicting with what she feels is her duty to take care of her crazy, older sister. Her weary sacrifice is played as merely what she expects of life, not as tragedy.

There is very little reference to, much less emphasis upon, the endless wars and religious turmoil we've come to associate with Beirut. People get parking tickets and go to coffee shops just like anywhere else.

The first-time director has chosen mostly first-time actors. She, herself, would make a better model than an actress, but she is, perhaps, a better director than either. She quietly explores the women's lives with no real effort to wrap any of them up in anything like a finished product. The nearest thing to a stand-out performance is that of Aziza Semaan as the crazy older sister.

Like "Steel Magnolias," the film eventually outlines the way these women support each other. Its humor is slight and subsequently touching as it outlines these relationships.

This is strictly a woman's picture, although men might be intrigued (but maybe threatened) by what goes on behind the doors of a beauty salon. As pictured here, it's the same in Beirut as in Virginia Beach. The women stand together in a support system that knows no geographical or political boundaries.

Mal Vincent, (757) 446-2347, mal.vincent@pilotonline.com