The President’s Cake

I’ve been lucky enough to travel to many places across the U.S., but when it comes to destinations outside the country, my experience is pretty limited. That’s one of the reasons I love international cinema. It offers a window into lives and cultures I might never experience firsthand. And beyond that, films can also serve as a time capsule, showing us moments in history and ways of life that would otherwise feel distant or forgotten. That’s exactly what Hasan Hadi’s The President’s Cake does, giving us a look at 1990s Iraq in a way you might not expect.

Lamia (Baneen Ahmad Nayyef) lives a modest life with her grandmother, Bibi (Waheed Thabet Khreibat), where nothing comes easily. At school, Lamia is chosen to bake a cake for Saddam Hussein’s birthday — a task that sounds simple but feels nearly impossible. Food and supplies are scarce, and finding ingredients like sugar, eggs, and flour is a daunting challenge when she barely has enough to eat herself.

Bibi takes Lamia to the nearest town to run errands, but she also has another plan: she intends to leave Lamia with a couple because she can no longer care for her. When Lamia realizes what’s happening, she runs away and finds her classmate Saeed (Sajad Mohamad Qasem), who’s at a carnival with his father. Together, Lamia and Saeed wander through winding alleyways in search of the ingredients, encountering different slices of life along the way. For Lamia, completing this task becomes more than an assignment — it’s a mission she’s determined to finish, no matter the cost.

Written and directed by Hasan Hadi, and inspired by his own childhood growing up under Hussein’s rule, The President’s Cake feels deeply personal. Hadi brings a poetic quality to the imagery while grounding the film in stark authenticity. Shot in original locations and featuring non-professional actors, the movie has an unfiltered realism that makes you feel fully immersed in that time and place.

Ultimately, The President’s Cake balances harsh reality with lyrical storytelling, transforming what seems like a simple errand into something profoundly moving. Its final act, in particular, forces you to look at an often-forgotten conflict from a more intimate perspective. Much of the film’s power rests on the shoulders of Nayyef and Qasem, who carry the story with understated, natural performances that feel perfectly in tune with their circumstances. The entire cast delivers raw, unvarnished work that captures daily life in a war zone without melodrama.

What makes The President’s Cake so effective isn’t just its performances, but its focus on Lamia’s connection to the world around her. There’s something quietly poetic about the way her journey unfolds, especially in the closing moments. Too often, we judge situations — and the people in them — without understanding the realities they face. This film gently challenges that impulse, offering empathy alongside beauty. The result is a deeply human and strikingly beautiful piece of cinema.