A change is coming in Saudi Arabia on a green bike
Wadjda (Waad Mohammed) is a ten-year-old-girl who lives with her mum (Reem Abdullah) in a suburb of Riyadh. She attends a state-run school for girls only and does pretty well in most of her classes. Her father is seldom home, and though he says he loves her mum dearly, the truth seems to be that he’s looking for a second wife because Wadjda’s mum hasn’t been able to give him a son. And while the mother can only think of her husband, the daughter is worried about something entirely different: she wants to buy a very nice green bike at a local store.
Wadjda has befriended a young boy, Abdullah (Abdullrahman Al Gohani), who has his own bicycle, so now she wants to beat him on a race. But there are two huge problems. For starters, it is prohibited for girls to ride bicycles in Saudi Arabia — men fear it could jeopardize their virginity. And secondly, Wadjda hasn’t got the money to buy it. But there is a solution for the second problem: a Quran-reading contest at school with a prize in cash. As for the first problem, let’s say Wadjda is not exactly the kind of obedient girl who would simply leave aside her craving without putting up a fight.
There are quite a few remarkable traits that make Wadjda an exceptional film, although not a superb one by any means. As it’s well known, it’s the first feature ever to be shot entirely in Saudi Arabia, and by a woman, Haifaa Al Mansour, who had to hide in a van and direct several scenes via walkie-talkie. Think that movie theatres are also banned, so the only screening of the film in Saudi Arabia was, in fact, in the premises of the US Embassy.
So first and foremost, Wadjda is an straightforward indictment on the status and roles of women in an intolerant, repressive society. It’s a detailed account of many of the constraints and prohibitions they have to endure, a socially and politically conscious feature that cries for much-needed freedom.
However, I believe the key issue here is the trust in the possibility of a change thanks to awareness: Wadjda’ story is a coming of age story, and as such it involves growing up and transformation. By the end of the film, she’s not quite the same girl you get to know at the very beginning. She’s learned quite a few things that would benefit her greatly in the years to come. She may look like a girl, but she’s going to be a woman anytime soon.
Moreover, there’s the subplot involving her mom, who suffers the silent humiliation of unrequited love and not having a real place of her own in anybody’s life but her daughter’s. And here’s a minor flaw: the screenplay could have explored their bond deeper, considering how much there is to unveil. The same goes for the story of the Wadjda’s strict teacher, a hypocritical woman who seems to be too old to even hope for a change — even if she’s young in chronological years. But none of these missteps makes Wadjda, the film, any less compelling. They only make it less nuanced.
Shot with remarkable gentleness, with a very inconspicuous camera and smooth editing, Haifaa Al Mansour’s feature says a lot in a low voice, with occasional touches of humour, and plenty of emotion — but not a hint of melodrama. It may be argued that it’s a bit sugarcoated at times, and perhaps that’s true. It sometimes gets too universal and a bit simplistic as to draw large audiences. But for the most part, Wadjda is the type of film that touches you and makes you think about a complex situation in very simple terms. And that’s to be celebrated.
