Born on the same day in the same Beirut hospital just a minute apart, while war raged outside, the lovers in “A Sad and Beautiful World” were seemingly destined to fall for each other, and the universe conspires more than once to make it so. For his evocative and wistful romance to yield its intended effect, writer-director Cyril Aris’ biggest ask of the viewer is to surrender to the serendipitous nature of the couple’s connection — a request that is later supported with a concept that expands the film’s magical realist vein. Contrived by design, the premise eventually earns enough goodwill for one to play along.
An eternal optimist whose outlook on life emerged from the tragedy of losing his parents, Nino (Hasan Akil) adores Yasmina (Mounia Akl), a worriwart realist, prone to consider the worst-case scenario, who holds a worldview tainted by her parents’ separation when she was a kid. Told with propulsive visual energy — noticeable in the collage-like editing of certain segments, the kinetic camera and the time jumps that help the narrative traverse three decades — their opposites-attract love story gains uniqueness thanks to its form.
Flashbacks to their childhood reveal that they were classmates whose fondness for one another provided comfort for their respective traumas. When Nino shares that he believes his deceased parents are now on a paradisical island, the image of a shore beyond the ocean’s glistening water becomes a spiritual motif for the two of them. This somewhat fantastical vision doesn’t ultimately represent heaven in the afterlife but a safe haven on earth. Adding to the heightened atmosphere is composer Anthony Sahyoun’s enrapturing electronic score, which sounds at once bright and hopeful and moodily introspective as it reverberates fluidly.
During the first act, set approximately a decade ago, where they meet for the first time as adults, “A Sad and Beautiful World” takes on the qualities of a broad romantic comedy, with larger-than-life supporting characters and situations fit for a rose-colored Hollywood rendezvous. In line with divine intervention acting as matchmaker throughout, they find each other after the erratic, yet disarming Nino crashes his car into a business that belongs to Yasmina’s mother. The spark rekindles immediately. Yasmina willingly changes her career plans, and her eagerness to leave Lebanon, a country in constant crisis, for the chance of spending more time with her childhood boyfriend turned bearded agent of chaos.
It’s only as the idyllic bond gains grayer shades — Yasmina doesn’t want to have children and doubts their prospects as a married couple — that one can grasp Aris is using the romance to mimic specific periods in Lebanon’s recent history. This chapter of carefree nights out resembles a bygone, more prosperous time in the embattled country.
Passages in which a lower frame rate makes the image jittery portray the frantic rush of emotion that the two are overtaken by now that fate has reunited them. They call to mind the final moments of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s “Amélie,” a movie that was likely a strong inspiration for several aspects of Aris’ project, including the name of the male lead, and the parallel unfolding of the protagonists’ early lives. To capture their closeness, and the palpable chemistry between Akil and Akl (the lifeblood of the film), cinematographer Joe Saade’s camera invades their personal space to express physical intimacy, often finding clever shots to collapse the distance between them without touching, like an extreme closeup of young Nino and Yasmina’s eyes looking at each other through a door’s keyhole.
The gleeful tone of these moments — and of the lead actors’ performances as they jump on top of cars or playfully run around in passionate ecstasy — gives way to more somber sentiments once they are married and have a daughter, allowing the actors to showcase their range. The charismatic Akil plays Nino with such nearly unwavering positivity that one can vividly understand Yasmina’s frustration with his refusal to confront grim truths. Yet it’s precisely that happy-go-lucky attitude that Yasmina gravitates toward. The stern personality that Akl projects as Yasmine is punctuated with splashes of levity that make her character’s compatibility with Nino believable rather than forceful. The structure ensures that the film always feels like a two-hander, balancing their respective ingrained wounds.
Dealing with the collapse of the Lebanese economy and their loved ones’ impending migration, the more mature Nino and Yasmine face the deterioration of their union, finding themselves at a crossroads between their attachment to what they’ve built in their homeland and the possibility of a future elsewhere. Far from revolutionary, “A Sad and Beautiful World” does succeed at adapting the tropes typical of heterosexual romances put on screen to a specific geopolitical context. No matter how much Nino may try to detach their devotion for one another from the problems afflicting Lebanon, the turmoil seeps into their home, proving that even the most personal choices are inevitably tied to larger forces. Their prerogative is whether to let those suffocating circumstances divide them or painfully remove themselves from them in hopes of staying together.
