The play shatters the boundaries between high art and the raw energy of street life.

Reaching the theatre itself is an ordeal since you have to elbow your way through the over-crowded street markets in Al-Ataba Square -- a vibrant cultural hub in times of old.

The market throbbed with life, a cacophony of vendors and haggling customers spilling over, inching ever closer to the theatre's crumbling facade. 

Two opera singers (Rogina Sobhi and Mahmoud Ehab), a man and a woman, stood on a small stage in the middle of the chaotic street, surrounded by the ubiquitous street vendors selling everything.

Their voices competed with the cacophony of shouts and the vendors' loudspeakers. The elitist art form of opera clashed with the gritty reality of Al-Ataba Square, and the play's title, "Opera Al-Ataba," encapsulated this clash.

Not far from here lies the ghostly memory of Egypt's first opera house, the Khedivial Opera, consumed by flames in the near past (1971). The opera conceded its location to a multilevel car parking. Was this a nod to a bygone era when this area was brimming with theatres and cultural activities, before gradually succumbing to the encroachment of street vendors? Was it a metaphor for a new, equally chaotic Egypt taking over?

Inside, the chaos continued, but this time, it was orchestrated. The frenzied rhythm of the piece mirrored the Egyptian streets. The dilapidated theatre barely holds a mere 100 persons and the production is very modest with a simple decor by Omar Ghayat.

The playwright and director, Hani Afifi, says the play is built on the paradox of inside and outside. He uses the increasingly confined theatre and the spaces surrounding the neighbouring National and The Puppet Theatres, whose very existence is threatened by encroaching chaos.

A graduate of the directing workshop at the Centre for Artistic Creativity, led by renowned director Khaled Galal, Afifi is one of his generation's most accomplished theatre directors.

Deeply in touch with the sheer fabric of the Egyptian creative practices that resonate with Egyptian people and the human condition, he has presented numerous plays that scored numerous awards for the director, cast, and crew at local and international festivals.

His repertoire boasts original works and adaptations, with titles such as I Am Hamlet, About Lovers, I Am Now Dead, Skirmishes, and Not Even in Dreams, among others. 

In one corner, an intellectual (Mohamed Abdel-Fattah, aka Kala) sits isolated in his room with his painting and music, lost in a world of existentialist texts, Sophocles' tragedy Oedipus Rex and Mahmoud Darwish's poetry. His unheard words mirror the plight of intellectuals in a society seemingly indifferent to their thoughts.

On the other side, a woman (Doaa Hamza) wrestles with an insatiable urge to consume, incessantly accumulating goods within the confines of her room. They are the very pillars of the play. In the space between them, the audience is bombarded with a cacophony of sights and sounds, the relentless hawking, the ever-present harassment, the fleeting trends of social media, and the constant struggle for survival, played out by the other six actors of the play, who keep alternating roles.

The haunting melodies of Umm Kulthum's song are intertwined with the raw energy of modern mahraganat songs in a mix prepared by Hazem El-Kafrway. 

With a rapid-fire pace and fragmented narrative, Opera Al-Ataba delves into the sins of contemporary Egypt – its beautiful ugliness and societal malaise. There's no hero here, only a constant sense of disorientation.

This is not a comfortable experience. It’s a concentrated dose of the harsh realities and a raw exploration of the complexities of Egypt. It shows a nation grappling with its past, present, and uncertain future, where parts of the society seem more than ever apart, seemingly unable to connect, leaving a trail of alienation.

Opera Al-Ataba plays every day at 9 pm (except Mondays and Tuesdays) at the Taliaa Theatre, Al-Ataba Square, Downtown Cairo.