Wadjda comes with the burden of expectations that would be tough for any film to live up to. Reports conflict on whether it’s the first “real” Saudi Arabian feature film, or just the first one fully shot inside the country. Certainly, the Saudi film industry is in natal form, and these early productions will likely shape the future movies that come out of the country. And this is the country’s first film directed by a woman, to boot, so that director, Haifa al-Mansour, will draw a whole other kind of scrutiny.
But despite working under the restrictions of a rigidly authoritarian society (she often had to direct from the back of a van, since men and women can’t mingle in public in Saudi Arabia), al-Mansour and her crew have done an admirable job. Wadjda isn’t just a good first feature from a nation, or from a new director, or a new woman director. It’s a great little film in its own right.
The title character, played by Waad Mohammed, is a preteen schoolgirl living in Riyadh who wants nothing more than her own bicycle to ride. But riding bikes is one of the many activities frowned upon for girls in this highly gender-segregated world. Wadjda is already something of a rebel, wearing Chuck Taylors under her abaya and talking back to her teachers at every turn. Her mother (Reem Abdullah) sees a bike as one step too far, and is unwilling to pay for one. Besides, she has her own problems, trying to convince her husband not to take another wife. Ironically, Wadjda finds a way to get the money she needs in the most pious route possible: the prize money for a Koran recital competition. Despite her lack of scriptural adeptness, Wadjda joins her school’s Koran club and hits the books.
This is a simple story, and it’s told simply. Al-Mansour cites neorealism as her primary influence, and the unvarnished artistic style and cast (mostly composed of first-timers) keeps to that tradition perfectly. Wadjda is driven less by narrative and more by observation. Wadjda and her travails are an avenue for encounters with the many, many ways that women face oppression in Saudi Arabia.
Even the most innocent of schoolyard activities has a darker pall cast over it. In one scene, a group of girls has to abandon their games and move inside when some men appear on a nearby rooftop. It wouldn’t do for them to be seen. The film is illuminating without ever feeling didactic, but it’s still a powerful cry for freedom. That the film was officially sanctioned by the government feels like a minor miracle.
On paper, Wadjda’s brand of spunky rabble-rousing may read as cliche, but Mohammed makes her feel real. She’s a bright soul constantly chafing against the strictures around her. Despite the movie’s basically light nature, there’s a queasy edge to it. For now, Wadjda fights the power however she can, but she’s on the cusp of adolescence, and her rebellion may soon be beaten out of her. She has to trade up to a more concealing head scarf during the course of the story, and more instruction will be coming down the line. The danger seems to be that she’ll end up in the same situation as her mother, whose buying chintzy dresses in an effort to keep a hold on her husband.
There are important films and there are good films, and the two do not necessarily always overlap. Wadjda is both important and very, very good. Both Saudi cinema and Haifaa al-Mansour are off to a great start.
