Three women working in a Beirut beauty salon face romantic redicaments. Layale (Labaki) is seeing a married man, hoping against hope that he'll leave his wife, even as a young cop (Karam) has his eye on her. Nisrine (Elmasri) is getting married to Bassam (Antar) and has a secret she needs to deal with. And Rima (Moukarzel) may be falling for a female customer (Safa). Meanwhile, their actress-diva friend (Aouad) is auditioning for roles she's perhaps too old for, and their seamstress neighbour (Haddad) is romancing a customer (Staneofski) with interference from her delusional sister (Semaan).

Despite the light tone, the film touches on serious issues from the multi-religious Lebanese culture, gently addressing the disparity in both Christian and Muslim communities between what people should do and what they're actually up to. In other words, it's pretty much just like any community on earth. And director-cowriter-star Labaki adeptly captures a natural tone with the help of her solid, likeable supporting cast.

That said, it's not a very profound movie. The title refers to the sugaring beauty treatment, which implies that these women will endure quick, sharp pain in their love lives but emerge with confidence and success. The title also applies to the film's golden hue, with warm cinematography that looks delicious enough to lick. It's a fascinating approach, made more engaging by the often hilarious misadventures of these complex women.

In the end, the breezy tone allows the film to drag. Just when it should be deepening into something much more potent, it remains safely in the emotional zone. We do identify with these women in their joy and sorrow, but we wait in vain for the script to push them just a little further into all-out rebellion against the constraints of the system. What we get instead is a sweet slice-of-life that's funny, enjoyable and both happy and sad. It's also remarkably assured work from a filmmaker to watch.

Angela (Velasco) is a TV presenter working with her faithful cameraman Pablo to make a fly-on-the-wall report about a firehouse. She's clearly bored rigid as she interviews a couple of firefighters (Terraza and Vert), but perks up when they head out to investigate a strangely behaving old woman (Carbonell)--a situation that turns desperate when she attacks the firemen, cops and other residents. Then the health authorities quarantine the building, and they're all trapped in the stairwell. Apparently it's some sort of contagious disease. And the sick aren't dying properly.

It's always great to see a new spin on the zombie genre, and the subjective camera brilliantly puts us in the line of fire, with lots of things that leap out of nowhere. After the rather relaxed and goofy opening sequence, the film shifts gears and never slows down, cranking up the suspense and fear, and refusing to cut away from the gore (as any decent news cameraman would get it all).

A few characters emerge, but we don't really get to know them beyond paranoias and prejudices. The shrinking number of survivors are only worrying about getting out alive, while Pablo's goal is to catch everything on tape. As opposed to Cloverfield, there's a reason why he's so adept with a camera: he's a trained professional. And his camera actually becomes part of the story. Meanwhile, Velasco is terrific as the witty, tenacious, obnoxious TV hack.

Meanwhile, the filmmakers make the most of the claustrophobic setting, especially as the story closes in horrifically on Angela and Pablo. Yes, it's repetitive and murky, and very simple, but the increasing chaos and grisliness are gripping. Like the characters themselves, we are desperate to get out of this sealed building, outraged by the knee-jerk authorities and rattled by the snarling undead hiding in every dark doorway. Can't imagine that the requisite American remake (titled Quarantine) will be half this effective or exhilarating.

Marie (Acquart) is a 15-year-old obsessed with synchronised swimming. But with her compact, boyish figure, she knows she can't really hope to join the local team, led by the curvy Floriane (Haenel), who has a carefully cultivated reputation as a slut. Marie's slightly chubby best pal Anne (Blachere), meanwhile, has a crush on Floriane's hunky water polo playing boyfriend François (Jacquin), who recently saw her naked in a lockerroom. But Marie and Anne's friendship is about to be strained by these yearnings, as Marie befriends Floriane and realises she has a crush on her.

Essentially, the film is a slice of normal teen life, in which these three young women circle around each other, changing loyalties while struggling inwardly with peer pressure, self-doubts and inner longings. For them, the emotions they're experiencing feel like the end of the world; their cruelty seems careless, but is full of emotion. All of this is examined with remarkable honesty--and without even a hint of sentimental self-indulgence--by Sciamma and her remarkable young cast.

Acquart looks like a young Kristy McNichol (where is she now?), with her soulful eyes and lanky physicality. She plays Marie perfectly as a quietly obsessive teen struggling with the inner conflict between confidence and insecurity. Her interaction with the equally excellent Haenel and Blanchere is packed with subtext. And as they screw up the courage to be honest to each other, the scenes pack hugely powerful punches.

As the gentle storyline progresses, Sciamma fills the film with bracing observations. She tellingly shows synchro scenes from askance angles or in selective silence, cleverly expressing Marie's internal journey. It may be extremely girly, but male viewers will learn a thing or two as well! And besides, the film is beautifully shot (by Crystel Fournier), including several gorgeous underwater sequences. And it's skilfully assembled with artful editing and a rich sound mix. In the end, it's also a provocative and lingering examination of the power of friendship in all its forms.