...and brilliantly done. This movie is all about the disconnection between people, drawing humor out of the awkwardness. What's interesting is how the camera sets up the comedy without any dialogue or sometimes without any movement at all.

The opening scene is a great example of the sort of camera humor I'm talking about. It's a very stationary, very symmetrical shot of a long white van parked neatly between 2 grey columns. Beyond this white van is an equally colorless landscape. For a few seconds there's literally nothing to look at. Then the driver door opens, a man gets out & slowly walks to the back of the van and opens it. He pulls out a huge yellow ball, holding it the way you might hold a giant wedding cake, walking stiffly back to the driver door, tossing it in, then getting in and driving off.

We never get an explanation for that bizarre sight, nor do we care, because suddenly we're confronted with the real gag. As the white van drives off like a curtain being pulled back, it reveals behind it a bunch of policemen dressed in bright baby blue suits. Without a word spoken, we know what this movie as about: these guys stand out like a bunch of sore thumbs.

The policemen are the protagonists in our film: an Egyptian police band dropped in the middle of Israel. In case you missed it, Egyptian-Israeli relations were rather frosty in the 80s-90s. But aside from that premise the film doesn't dwell on political or cultural divisions. The premise is just the perfect metaphor for the personal disconnection & frostiness between humans. Everyone seems to have a wall between them, blocking the real view just like that white van in the beginning.

Despite the comical presentation, the film has plenty of serious stuff to say if you read between the lines. To me the dramatic highlight--and the meaning of the movie--is the scene with the clarinet player who can't come up with an ending for his concerto. The scene is late at night between him an his reluctant Israeli host, both sitting quietly in a baby's room. The host fumbles for words, then says, "Maybe your concerto should end like this, no loud trumpets or violins but just this, a small room... a lamp, a bed... child sleeping.... and tons of loneliness."