Wadjda, currently playing at The Charles, on 1711 N. Charles Street, tells the story of a 10-year old, Saudi Arabian girl (played by Waad Muhammad) attending an all-girls school, who is on a seemingly simply (especially to the audience) mission: to become the proud owner of a green bicycle and finally be able to race with her best friend, Abdullah. Her quest, however, turns out to be much more complicated than Wadjda anticipates.
Although it is neither a particularly high-budget film, nor very theatrical, Wadjda is already being discussed as a potential contender for various awards probably due to its revolutionary nature. This film is the first to be shot entirely in Saudi Arabia and depicts the suburbs of Riyadh, a place that the rest of the world is not used to seeing on the big screen. Even more extraordinary, Wadjda was made not only by a Saudi Arabian, but also by a Saudi Arabian woman, Haifaa Al-Mansour — bear in mind that this is a country in which women are legally forbidden to drive cars, and movie theaters in and of themselves do not exist.
We are introduced to Wadjda as a girl who is essentially walking along a tight rope, constantly torn between two different worlds: the Americanized environment she is permitted to create at home — consisting of American music blasting on her speaker system and Western clothing, such as jeans and Converse Chuck Taylors — and the more conservative outside world in which she must be covered from head to toe where uniformity is enforced, and women are seen as little more than a temptation to men.
The story truly begins when Wadjda sees a bicycle for sale after her best friend Abdullah rode away with his friends, all of whom already have a bicycle. Upon sight, the green bicycle becomes carved in Wadjda’s heart, and she is willing to go to any lengths in order to acquire it. For anyone that has ever opened up a lemonade stand, Wadjda’s precocious mind and entrepreneurial efforts will bring back that familiar, if perhaps slightly foggy, memory of taking yourself very seriously at a very young age. Her character is realistically 10-years-old, navigating the murky waters between being a child (and even more frustratingly a girl) with no real say in anything and becoming an adult who has some kind of agency over themself and the ones they love. This very agency is what the bike represents to Wadjda, although she perhaps does not consciously realize it. The bike that has entered Wadjda’s dreams is far more than just something she can use to race with her friend. In Saudi Arabia, women are not permitted to ride bikes; this action is seen as damaging to a women’s virtue.
As Wadjda begins her efforts to acquire the bicycle without any support from her family, the audience is given a very realistic glimpse scene by scene into the daily life of a middle class Saudi Arabian family. Wadjda’s mother’s story is constantly presented in the background of Wadjda’s struggles, and ultimately that story interweaves with her own. Both mother and daughter persist towards their respective goals.
While Wadjda dreams of owning that green bicycle that has mesmerized her, her mother does not dream of possession. Rather, she dreads the loss of her husband to a second wife and wishes only to possess him as what he should already be — her husband.
Wadjda’s breathtakingly gorgeous mother, played by Saudi Arabian TV star Reem Abdullah, spends the majority of her time perfecting her appearance, solely for her inattentive husband who visits only occasionally and has been on the look out for a second wife that can provide him with a son; she abides by the law and both covers and veils herself when she is outdoors from head to toe. Like every other woman in Saudi Arabia, she is dependent in almost every way, emotionally, financially and even in terms of mobility. Although she never defies the very traditions that keep her an arm’s length away from happiness at all times, she loves her incredibly rebellious daughter unconditionally.
In the scheme of things, her mother’s preoccupation with her father allows Wadjda’s story to unfold without too many obstacles. The way in which she finally decides to raise money for her bike is by winning a Qur’an recitation competition, which offers a large sum of money to the student with the most accurate, beautiful recitation.
Despite the presence of Qur’an and religiously-based cultural norms in this film, it succeeds in telling a story without taking some kind of stance for or against religion. If anything, the stance is being taken against the very realistically depicted cruelty inherent in the environment of Riyadh, as well as the rest of Saudi Arabia. However, by telling the story of Wadjda and her mother, it sheds light on the possibility of hope within a dark place and beautifully depicts the very small, but meaningful ways in which individuals, no matter how seemingly limited, can spark change for one another regardless of their age or gender.
There is nothing aggressive about the message this film is trying to convey; the main character, an adorable, 10-year-old girl, charms the viewer throughout her efforts to gain some kind of freedom during her every day life. Through depicting issues as a day-to-day struggle, this film succeeds in depicting the symptoms of the problems that are present in Riyadh, leaving the actual problem open to discussion. The issues of the culture that surrounds her are not thrown at the audience but rather are left untouched, either coloring in her story or acting as the backdrop.
In the film, Wadjda’s character captures both the purity and innocence of childhood — the way children tend to question everything and can see contradictions in traditions that adults have collectively begun to overlook or even accept after being subjected to those contradictions throughout their life. Children are able to dream without limitation even if reality is composed only of limitations and within the mind of a child, there are possibilities that an adult may have long forgotten existed. To tell this story through the point of view of a child was a rather brilliant move on the part of Al-Mansour.
Wadjda’s best friend Abdullah’s character, an boy of the same age who supports Wadjda’s efforts and does whatever he can to see that her dreams are realized, even if it means losing to her in a race, keeps the movie from seeming to convey a type of anti-male commentary. Ultimately, the audience is left with the message of the inevitability of change rather than bitterness towards a culture that we do not understand.
