Cannes Film Festival: A Quiet Cry for Belonging in Morad Mostafa’s AISHA CAN’T FLY AWAY

 

At the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, Aisha Can’t Fly Away emerged as one of the most arresting entries in the Un Certain Regard section. The debut feature by Egyptian director Morad Mostafa brings to the screen a quietly shattering tale of exile, survival, and the fragile hope of visibility in an unforgiving world. With this film, Mostafa not only becomes the first Egyptian filmmaker in nearly a decade to present a feature in this category, but also asserts himself as one of Arab cinema’s most empathetic and incisive voices.

Set in the dense and chaotic neighborhood of Ain Shams in Cairo, Aisha Can’t Fly Away follows a 26-year-old Sudanese caregiver navigating the harsh landscape of racism, violence, and systemic neglect. Aisha is caught between a blackmailing gangster, a fragile emotional entanglement with a young Egyptian cook, and her new job in an unfamiliar household. Amid this instability, her grasp on reality loosens, and her dreams begin to bleed into her waking life.

“Aisha is a young Sudanese woman living in a stifling and noisy city, searching for love and safety in a modern, dystopia-like world full of violence and menace,” Mostafa explains. “She knows deep inside her that she can’t live in peace in this world so dictated by prejudice… she is forced to be in survival mode, constantly, and yet she is so full of dreams.” This tension between invisibility and yearning is the emotional heart of the film. Aisha's struggle is not only with external threats but with the existential weight of not being seen.

Mostafa’s inspiration for the story is deeply personal. “I remember when I was riding a microbus while visiting Ain Shams, I noticed an African girl with a tired face resting her head on the glass… she suddenly woke up frightened and crying hysterically, startling me and the other passengers before leaving without so much as an explanation. That, I think, is what triggered this project.”

This fleeting moment haunted him, raising the questions that ultimately shaped the film: “What were her dreams and fears? How would they merge into the fabric of reality around her in a city that is cruel to its own people, let alone newcomers?”

The director draws on his own upbringing in Ain Shams to portray a layered world that is both familiar and hostile. “It’s the place my film is set in, where I spent my childhood and teenage years. I always found it interesting how these parallel societies sort of formed in the heart of Cairo with their own rules and social strata.” The film explores the duality of “good citizens” versus outlaws, and the social hypocrisy surrounding who is allowed to dream. “Those who ‘work hard’ became so-called good citizens, while those who rebelled against their unjust fate… became branded as outlaws,” Mostafa observes. “Yet a small amount dares to dream, though they are often labeled as outcasts for it.”

Mostafa is mindful of the responsibility that comes with telling a story like Aisha’s. “I do not want to take advantage of the plight of an African immigrant and this character’s suffering,” he says. “I want to share with her my concerns and fears from a place I know, approaching it with care… the more I think about Aisha, the more I'm convinced that it's not a migration story, it's more universal than that; it is about the sense of belonging and the need to be seen and validated no matter the odds.”

This sense of quiet dignity pervades every frame of the film. Despite its moments of dread and disorientation, Aisha Can’t Fly Away remains tender and deeply human.