I watched Happy Birthday at El Gouna Film Festival and it stayed with me long after it ended. It is Egypt’s official submission for the Oscars, and that choice has already started a clash among audiences. Some say it deserves it, others say it does not. But no matter where you stand, it is a film that makes you feel something real.
Some films do not need to shout to be heard. Happy Birthday is one of them. Sarah Goher tells her story through quiet moments that speak louder than words. The film looks gentle on the surface, but underneath it holds questions about childhood, class and the invisible walls that shape how people live.
The story feels small but alive. It moves softly through the details of daily life, showing how warmth and inequality can exist side by side. Goher lets the silence say what words cannot. Every look, every hesitation, every sound of the city feels real and close.
At the heart of it all is Toha, played by Doha Ramadan, whose performance gives the film its soul. She is bright and curious, sometimes shy, sometimes bold, always human. Through her eyes we see both the innocence of childhood and the confusion that comes with growing up too soon. There is strength in her quietness and even when she says very little, we understand everything she feels. Ramadan carries the film with truth and emotion.
Goher’s direction is filled with care. She builds her world slowly, trusting us to notice the small things that reveal the bigger story. The way a person looks away, the sound of a gate closing, the light falling on a face at the end of a long day. Nothing is exaggerated. The film flows naturally, like life being observed rather than performed.
The writing, by Goher and Mohamed Diab, feels honest and deeply human. They show how social divides are not only about money but about belonging and dignity. The story moves between two versions of Cairo, one polished and calm, the other crowded and full of noise and life. Both are real, both carry truth, and together they show how close and yet how far people can be from each other in the same city.
Doha Ramadan’s work is remarkable because she never turns Toha into a symbol. She remains a person, full of warmth, humor, and small dreams. Her presence carries light even in difficult scenes. There is joy when she discovers something new, and sadness when she realizes that not everyone has the same chances. The camera stays close to her, and we stay close too.
Visually, Happy Birthday captures Cairo with honesty and tenderness. You feel the contrast between quiet spaces and busy streets, between comfort and struggle, between who belongs and who waits outside.
What makes the film powerful is that it never preaches. It simply shows life and trusts us to feel it. The emotion comes from truth, not from drama. The film invites you to reflect on kindness, on distance and on how easily a child can be shaped by the world around her.
By the time it ends, Happy Birthday leaves you silent. Not because of sadness but because of understanding. It makes you think about how fragile childhood is, how unfairness can appear in small gestures and how hope can still exist even in quiet corners.
Sarah Goher has made a film that stays with you. It reminds us that cinema can be powerful without being loud. It can make us feel deeply through stillness, honesty and heart. Happy Birthday is a tender portrait of innocence meeting reality and of a little girl who learns to see the world with eyes that are both open and brave.
Small stories can hold enormous meaning.