Wadjda

I first heard about Wadjda at the tail end of 2012 when Radio 2 film critic Mark Kermode named it his film of the year. In my world Kermode’s word is gospel. I have gone to watch Danish romances and Turkish crime dramas on his say so. Being a regular attendee of his weekly radio sermons, I have even defended Twilight to friends – despite never having seen it – because I know he’s such a fan. For me, he’s the oracle of film, a divine guide who delivers us from evil corporate blockbusters. So with his recommendation, I recorded Wadjha on Film 4 last year and have only now got round to watching it.

Wadjda is a coming-of-age story about a child’s desire for a bike. Sounds shit, doesn’t it. Before you harrumph with cynicism though, let me tell you Wadjda is the best film about cycling ever. For a start, it’s directed by Haifaa al-Mansour. So? Well, al-Mansour was the first Saudi woman to ever direct a feature film. And? She directed it from a van because in Saudi Arabia men and women can’t mix in public, meaning communication with crew members had to be done via walkie-talkie. Impressive. Yes, I agree. And despite all of these obstacles, she tells a story so enchanting you’ll be smiling for days.

al-Mansour: the woman behind the camera.

Wadjda then is an eleven-year-old girl who attends a conservative, religious school. There, girls are expected to dress modestly, wear the veil and eschew beautification – varnish, make-up and colours are banned. Also, they are ordered to keep their voices down so as not to alert the men outside: ‘a woman’s voice is her nakedness,’ reasons their headteacher. Wadjda doesn’t take well to any of this. Her character is at odds with the black she wears. She is the colourful schemer, running get rich schemes to obtain the bike of her dreams; a terror to the patriarchy, chastising taxi drivers stupid enough to challenge her mum; a rebel who doesn’t know she’s kicking against the system.

Wadjda played by Waad Mohammed.

The bike she craves represents more than a toy. It is a symbol of freedom and progress: two things currently denied to Saudi women.

Remember: in Saudi Arabia women still aren’t allowed to drive.

When Wadjda asks her mum to help her buy the bike, the response is: “Girls don’t ride bikes. How will you have children if you ride a bike?’ Wadjda’s mother is a fascinating character: what she preaches is conservatism; what she feels is liberalism. Her marriage to Wadjda’s father is loving but her inability to provide a son leaves him considering another wife. The pressure to provide an heir is felt by him too, showing both sexes are trapped by cultural dogma. Her plan to use her feminine wiles to win him round demonstrates the double standard we see throughout the film: men only want female modesty when it suits them.

Wadjda too walks a tightrope of conformity and individualism when she signs up to a Koran reading competition. Her primary motive for participating in the austere tournament is to secure the prize money to buy a bike. The underdog’s quest to win a school competition is a well-worn movie trope, but it’s never been done with such finesse. Seeing this little girl struggle to fulfil her simple dream is wonderfully moving.

So come on, my week was better for having Wadjda in it. So now make sure yours is too.

The trailer for Wadjda can be seen by clicking here: