Sabry stars as Fareeda, a photographer who witnesses a hitman murder one business tycoon and seriously injure another in a bar named Vertigo in which two of her friends, both of whom were killed in the attack, worked. Armed with photographs of the assassin, Fareeda tries to find out the identity of both the killer and the people who ordered the hit without exposing herself and her sister Fawzeyya (El Sibai) to their wrath. She becomes entangled in a web of filth and corruption that spreads far higher and wider than she ever thought possible; a web that includes not only business types but politicians, journalists and artists as well.

We’re kind of loving Vertigo in a way that we previously thought impossible for a Ramadan TV show. While most of the shows this year look nothing like the serials of yore when it comes to production design and camera work, Vertigo goes the extra mile. The score is one of the first things that pops out at you and while it can occasionally be slightly overwrought, with it’s cold, electronic pulses it’s unlike anything you’d associate with Egyptian TV and goes perfectly with the show. But the really great thing about Vertigo is that it in no way feels like an American knock off. The show doesn’t tow the line between Egyptian and American styles so much as it integrates them beautifully. It occupies this sweet spot where everything is aspirational and TV glossy without veering into the ridiculous. Both wealth and poverty look glamorous without being offensive or obscene and the actors all look like normal people - just prettier, shinier.

At the centre of the show is not the web that Fareeda gets caught up in but the friendship between her and her best friend and co-worker Omar (El Shafei). Fingers crossed that their relationship stays platonic throughout the season, but even if they do become romantically entangled later on - as is becoming more and more likely with every passing episode and with each sigh from Omar about how lonely he is - we’re happy that we’re getting to see what looks like a gloriously real and strong friendship between a guy and a girl. El Shafei, in addition to being adorable, provides most of the show’s humour.

While the very talented Sabry is the undisputed star of the show, she’s surrounded by quite a vast and stellar supporting cast that includes, among others, El Lozy and Hatem as a journalist couple working at rival newspapers. As the episodes pass the story grows in scope very organically and the web of corruption becomes more intricate. The number of characters swells and the connections between them grow more obvious. But because the characters are so interesting and so diverse, the story acquires a very personal and intimate vibe despite being one that encompasses a huge swath of society.

Although it will inevitably attract criticism as an adaptation of Ahmed Murad’s book, as a standalone TV show it’s given us more than enough reason to be optimistic and keep watching. We’re hooked.