Wadjda explores the role of women in Saudi Arabia
2013Gaetana Caldwell-Smith 2013-10Read it in the scan (PDF at ETOL), page 7 →
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SOCIALIST ACTION OCTOBER 2013 7 “Wadjda,” a film written and directed by Haifaa Al-Mansour. In Arabic with English subtitles, filmed in and around Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
A provoking film focuses on a l-Mansour’s beautiful, thoughtmother and daughter who live in socially, religiously, and culturally male-dominated Saudi Arabia. Here, females are so devalued they are not included in depictions of family trees, which are prominently displayed in living rooms.
The eponymous lead role of lanky 10-year-old Wadjda is played by soulfuleyed Waad Mohammed. Right off, you get that she wants to go her own way. Wad jda listens to modern, American rock music on her CD player in her bedroom; she wears black and white Keds. She is a rebel; she speaks her mind to elders and tells the truth. Besides giving audiences a look into the lives of ordinary people in the capital city of Riyadh, the film hints that Wadjda herself could be seen as the new face of women in that country.
Wadja’s best friend, Abdullah (Abdull rahman Al Gohani), is a younger boy with flashing black eyes, who lives across the dusty, sandy street. A madras student, he wears a white gown and a white cro cheted skullcap, as do his friends, even when playing and riding their bikes. He talks openly about idolizing suicide bombers. Though his father is a politi cian of a different tribe running for office, Mansour thoughtfully and intelligently understates this aspect of the characters’ lives.
Not yet teens, boys and girls play to gether and hang out. Wadjda envies Abdullah because he rides a bike. She wants one, feeling that it will allow her freedom. “You’ll lose your virginity. You can’t have children if you ride a bike,” her mother warns. Wadjda is not dissuaded; a bike becomes her goal.
Backpacks are routinely inspected at her school, run by Ms. Hussa played by Ahd, and forbidden items (music tapes, baseball cards) are tossed out. Ms. Hussa, though a strict principal (Wadjda is of ten called in to her office and threatened with expulsion), sports modern dress and hairstyle. Indoors, away from men, wom en can wear whatever they please. But before going out, they put on a full black abaya and black headscarf. Some go so far as to throw over their face a diaphanous, black scarf.
There’s a scene where Wadjda and her friends sing and talk loudly; an older woman shuts them up, saying that men can hear their voices. The film points out that females cannot attract attention to themselves in any way. Woman them selves enforce these rules. Still women can transact business with shopkeep ers, i.e. men in lowly positions. There is something hauntingly beautiful in watch ing a group of covered, veiled women in black, only their eyes visible, flowing past the garish display windows of a modern shopping mall.
The film allows the audience to view how everyday life is lived in Wadjda’s home between her mother and father, where their culture is very different from that of the West. We also see a scene where religious police stop women on the street, rail at and threaten them for some perceived minor infraction. Yet men freely spew lewd remarks at women as they walk by.
Wadjda’s mother and her handsome, fit father (Sultan Al Assaf) have separated because she could not give him a son. Wadjda adores him, as does her mother, played by voluptuous, dark-eyed Rheem Abdullah. When visiting, he and Wadjda play video games. The mother is misin formed about an impending marriage, and the truth is devastating. Crushed, she and Wadjda watch the festivities from their balcony.
A contest for the best recitation of the Koran is offered, with the prize being more than enough to buy a bike; Wadjda changes her ways. She impresses every one with her devotion to studying the Ko ran. When the contest is over, Ms. Hussa decides how the money will be spent when Wadja unabashedly blurts out her intention. One of the final scenes between Wadjda and her mother brought tears to my eyes. On her new bike, Wadjda heads for the open road and symbolic freedom with her friend, Abdullah. n
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