In Wadjda writer/director Haifaa Al Mansour parallels the stories of 10-year-old Wadjda and her mother.
Both play the system by the rules and are betrayed. The mother serves her husband perfectly except in denying him a son. That's because she almost died giving birth to Wadjda so won't bear again. He's proud of the food she prepares for his friends. He loves her still. Nonetheless he still "burns her heart" by taking a second wife. Wadjda works hard enough on the Koran competition to win the money for the bike she wants but the school principal denies her the prize.
Both are courageous enough to go their own way, in the face of convention or decorum. When her husband takes a second wife the first one goes her own way and cuts her hair, which he'd preferred long and smooth. She will live for herself now not for him. When she tells Wadjda that from now on "It's just the two of us," she seems primed to join her cousin working in the hospital, with men, without the burka. By buying the bike she's enabling Wadjda to be her own self too, instead of submitting to the prejudice against girls riding bikes.
Our last view of Wadjda is on her bike, at an intersection, open roads before her, as she warily looks for what's coming. That describes her mother's new position as well. That could be the situation for women throughout the Arab world — or not, if the traditionalists have their regressive way. Of the two men who watch Wadjda cycle by, one smiles at her appreciatively but the older one shakes his head rueful.
Though the film seems critical of the society's hidebound sexism it is not critical of Islam. The recited sections of the Koran express values of justice, citizenship and humanity that we all should find amenable. If there are faults they are in the officials' abuses of that faith and in the citizens' unexamined prejudices. For more see www.yacowar.blogspot.com.
Both play the system by the rules and are betrayed. The mother serves her husband perfectly except in denying him a son. That's because she almost died giving birth to Wadjda so won't bear again. He's proud of the food she prepares for his friends. He loves her still. Nonetheless he still "burns her heart" by taking a second wife. Wadjda works hard enough on the Koran competition to win the money for the bike she wants but the school principal denies her the prize.
Both are courageous enough to go their own way, in the face of convention or decorum. When her husband takes a second wife the first one goes her own way and cuts her hair, which he'd preferred long and smooth. She will live for herself now not for him. When she tells Wadjda that from now on "It's just the two of us," she seems primed to join her cousin working in the hospital, with men, without the burka. By buying the bike she's enabling Wadjda to be her own self too, instead of submitting to the prejudice against girls riding bikes.
Our last view of Wadjda is on her bike, at an intersection, open roads before her, as she warily looks for what's coming. That describes her mother's new position as well. That could be the situation for women throughout the Arab world — or not, if the traditionalists have their regressive way. Of the two men who watch Wadjda cycle by, one smiles at her appreciatively but the older one shakes his head rueful.
Though the film seems critical of the society's hidebound sexism it is not critical of Islam. The recited sections of the Koran express values of justice, citizenship and humanity that we all should find amenable. If there are faults they are in the officials' abuses of that faith and in the citizens' unexamined prejudices. For more see www.yacowar.blogspot.com.