Doe-eyed Nadine Labaki proves that she’s not just a pretty face as the co-writer, director and star of this warm-hearted and quietly revealing portrait of Lebanese society.

She plays Layale, the owner of a modest but popular pampering parlour who frequently drops everything to be with her married lover.

That leaves regular clients like fading actress Jamale (Gisele Aouad) in the hands of bride-to-be Nisrine (Elmasri) and tomboyish Rima (Moukarzel).

All have their own little secrets and problems. Jamale’s struggle to compete for work with leggy young things leads to one humiliating audition after another and Nisrine’s betrothed is about to discover that he will not be her ‘first’.

While Nisrine frets about her purity, a raven-haired lovely has Rima in a lather, and Layale is completely blind to the one-sidedness of her affair… and the attentions of the cute copper who overlooked her terrible driving.

Meanwhile at the shop next door, Rose the seamstress (Sihame Haddad) is conducting a more dignified relationship with one of her gentleman customers. Unfortunately the needs of her dotty older sister come first.

Caramel is the sugar-based goo used to remove unwanted body hair. Warm and sweet, but often painful, it makes the perfect metaphor for Labaki’s look at love and the stickiness that goes with it.

Remarkably accomplished performances from Labaki’s non-professional co-stars add to the film’s natural warmth (Aouad and Haddad are excellent). Caramel tastes like Almodovar on camomile tea.

Dedicating her film to ‘my Beirut’, Labaki is clearly proud of a city which embraces westernisation while upholding tradition – not always to everyone’s convenience (see what Nisrine has to go through), but certainly with their consent.

It wasn’t so long ago that Beirut was synonymous with bomb blasts, urban devastation and the seemingly endless conflict between Christians and Muslims.

Of course, the unrest hasn't gone away, but, dusted with humour and subtlety, Caramel presents a much happier picture.

Elliott Noble