‘Safe Exit’ review: Mohammed Hammad follows ‘Withered Green’ with spare Egyptian drama

Dir/scr: Mohammed Hammad. Egypt/Libya/Tunisia/Qatar/Germany. 2026. 113 mins

The characters’ sad, silent faces say so much in Safe Exit, a muted drama about a young Egyptian security guard unable to break free of his static existence. Writer-director Mohammed Hammad’s story of grief and trauma stars Marwan Waleed, whose performance is painstakingly withholding. That careful restraint echoes the film’s larger themes, examining how this guard resists forming connections with others in the wake of the tragedies he’s endured. Eventually, though, the outside world asserts itself, leading to a spare, thought-provoking finale.

Waleed makes Samaan’s spiritual stagnation intriguing

Premiering in Berlin’s Panorama section, Safe Exit is the second feature from Hammad, whose 2016 debut Withered Green premiered at Locarno and won Best Director at the Dubai International Film Festival. His new picture lacks major names, and the story’s understated approach may curtail theatrical prospects beyond MENA markets (where it will be released by MAD Distribution). But supportive reviews should ensure further festival play.

In his early 20s, Samaan (Waleed) works the night shift at the front desk of a multi-use building, which means he mostly spends his time staring off into space. He doesn’t make much money, supplementing his finances by taking bribes from an ageing mother (Magda Mounir) who pays him to make sure her terrorist son Abdullah (Hazem Essam), who lives in the building, is alerted whenever the police come looking for him. Samaan, who harbours dreams of being an author, is haunted by the memory of watching his beloved father, a Christian, being killed by ISIS, in a religious massacre in Libya a decade previously. Meanwhile, Samaan’s older brother is in prison in Egypt awaiting trial after striking a powerful family’s son who hit him first.

When a young Muslim woman named Fatimah (Noha Foad) arrives at Samaan’s work, needing to see a doctor because of her mysterious seizures, Samaan is initially brusque with her, annoyed that she doesn’t have identification so he can check her in for her appointment. But Fatimah slowly enters his orbit, starting with her need for a place to stay. Fatimah flirts with Samaan in the hopes of procuring a spare room in the building, but the reserved security guard rebuffs her. (His fellow guards are not as principled.)

Safe Exit’s characters are not accustomed to unburdening themselves. Samaan reveals little of his past to those around him, but in his infrequent voiceover, which comes from the book he’s writing, he mentions the anguish he carries over his father’s death. Unlike his father, Samaan isn’t religious and doesn’t really believe in anything, although he confesses to feelings of guilt for protecting a terrorist, acknowledging that he’s too afraid of the intimidating Abdullah to stand up to him. Serving as a night-shift guard seems an ideal job for someone who wants to be left alone — indeed, Samaan’s numbed response to everything is a mask that keeps others from getting too close.

A protagonist this withdrawn could be monotonous, but Waleed makes Samaan’s spiritual stagnation intriguing, even moving. And every so often, the actor provides a glimpse of what the character’s life might have been like before his father’s murder and brother’s incarceration. Those moments suggest the happy person he once was, although whether Samaan can ever retrieve that part of himself is far from certain. Somewhat predictably, Samaan’s gradual emotional thawing comes courtesy of his growing bond with Fatimah, but Waleed and Foad gradually develop a touching rapport that is not romantic but, rather, stems from an appreciation for the other person’s difficult situation.

Occasionally, Safe Exit’s depiction of oppression and PTSD can feel mannered. The film contemplates a world in which religious differences and corrupt government officials exert an existential toll, and Hammad does not shy away from his protagonists’ pain. But because the picture lacks a propulsive narrative engine, this character study meanders as Samaan confronts his various problems. Fatimah’s dilemma grows similarly more dire over the course of Safe Exit, creating a sense of a narrative stacked deck in which anything that can go wrong will go wrong for these luckless characters.

But those shortcomings matter less as Hammad arrives at an affecting ending that underlines the cruelty of everyday life –  but also the possibility for people to change their circumstances. Safe Exit closes with a hard-earned moment of retribution and justice that is effective precisely because it is delivered with the same unsentimental attitude as what came before. Waleed heightens the shock by underplaying it, letting the implications slowly sink in for him and the audience.