People often wish for a deeper bond with their fathers before it’s too late, or never expect to miss them so much after they’re gone. If those quiet, aching regrets became a film, it would look like My Father’s Scent (Colonia), Mohamed Siam’s powerful directorial debut about a deeply strained relationship between a son and his dying father.
The movie opens with Omar (Kamel El Basha) already gone. What follows is a flashback to the long, sleepless night before his death: the eve when he returns home from the hospital, and his youngest son, Farouk (Ahmed Malek, in one of his most precise and haunting turns yet), finally faces him. Over that single winter evening, set during Eid, we’re drawn into Farouk’s spiral of addiction, the raw trauma of his mother’s death, and years of feeling invisible to his father.
Siam sets the story mostly in the family’s Alexandria apartment during Eid, when the streets are silent — everyone either indoors celebrating or abroad. That heavy isolation feels almost suffocating, especially for Omar, whose longing for connection grows palpable.
Then come the real gut punches: raw, unfiltered exchanges between Omar and Farouk unveil years of unspoken pain, as Omar’s frustration and Farouk’s regret surface in sharp, honest bursts. Dialogue-driven films can slide into awkward exposition, but Siam and Ahmed Amer’s script lets these emotional revelations land naturally.
Ahmed Malek has been a reliable force for years — he doesn’t disappoint as Farouk. From the opening frames, his physicality and eyes carry so much unspoken weight. After the present-day scene, when his more put-together brother Ali (Abed Anany) blames him for Omar’s death, Farouk’s reaction shows layered emotion: guilt, defiance, or both.
The film’s real surprise is Mayan El-Sayed as Farouk’s girlfriend, Sarah, whom Omar often calls “sleazy.” She steals the show as soon as she appears, with wit and a sharp edge. At my screening, she filled the room with laughs — no one expected this after the lukewarm reception of 1000 Hamdela Al Salama. This is a leap forward in her choices, showing range and timing.
Mayan’s chemistry with every scene partner is remarkable — but it shows most beautifully in the moment she finally meets Omar. Despite all his resentment toward her, just for being close to his estranged son, they click instantly. It’s a rare, heartwarming moment in an otherwise violent night, a flicker of connection amid all the cruelty, like that brutal line where Farouk tells his father, “I wish you’d died instead of Mom.”
What makes the film stand out in Egyptian cinema is its ability to humanize addiction without preaching or sensationalizing. Farouk isn’t a villain or a victim caricature; he’s complex, broken, and painfully real, thanks in large part to Malek’s sensitive, lived-in performance.
Visually, it’s stunning. DOP Omar Abou Doma frames scenes in cool blues that cling to Farouk, mirroring his bottled-up emotions. Sparse warmth appears when characters connect. Siam keeps things intimate, often showing characters through foggy windows. It never feels dull — heated dialogue, pulsing music, and a sense of enclosure keep you locked in.
Though it has shone at major festivals like El Gouna (where Malek won Best Actor) and the Red Sea, My Father’s Scent won’t satisfy everyone seeking easy entertainment. It isn’t a commercial crowd-pleaser, but it’s gripping and entertaining in its own right. The eventful final night between father and son remains riveting throughout — though how deeply it resonates may depend on your own loss.
Now playing in theaters, My Father’s Scent is a soul-reaching, deeply affecting portrait of silence, grief, and the conversations we never have. It doesn’t just tell the story of a son and his dying father — it gives shape to the quiet, aching regrets so many carry long after the chance to speak is gone. Dropping in the first month of the year, Mohamed Siam’s debut sets a bar so high that it may not be matched. If 2026 has anything better to offer, it’ll have to be extraordinary.
