As a narrative ‘Wadjda’ has an earnest but gentle comic tone of the style of a ‘kid’s compete’ documentary. It merits recognition for its freshness and as the first feature film ever to have been entirely shot in Saudi Arabia and by a female director at that, Ten-year-old Wadjda is a rebel - wears jeans and baseball boots under her abaya, listens to western pop music on the radio, hangs out with a boy, Abdullah and has her own small business, selling plaited friendship bracelets to her friends. When Abdullah crows about having a bicycle, Wadjda is inspired to try to raise the money to buy one for herself. As in ‘Bicycle Thieves’, a bike symbolises freedom, with the added potency that the riding of one by a woman is widely frowned upon. The limitations and humiliations conferred by her sex confront Wadjda everywhere but she is astute enough to realise that she can by-pass social or religious approval if she is financially undependent. In the midst of patriarchal dominance and her mother’s fraught marriage, Wadjda is a wish fulfilment figure, a tomboy super-heroine, who answers back to bullies and makes rakish little gestures of defiance. There is a sense of optimism in her indefatigability. This film makes clear certain realities of female life experience in Saudi Arabia while also proffering comfort in the form of hope for a fairer future.
Hannah McGill – Sight and Sound (BFI) - August 2013
You’d need a heart of stone not to be won over by ‘Wadjda’, a rebel yell with a spoonful of sugar and a pungent sense of Riyadh society, split between the home, the madrasa and the shopping mall. Waad Mohammed plays the 10 yr. old heroine who enters a Qu’ran reading competition to raise funds to buy a bike – much to the horror of her imperilled mother and imperious teacher. In conservative Ryadh, we are told; girls do not ride bikes and are barely even permitted to laugh out of doors. As the first woman ever to shoot a Saudi Arabian feature film, writer/director Haifaa Al Mansour has already assured herself of a small place in history. And yet, ‘Wadjda’ stands on its own merits. The road through is dusty, bumpy and fraught with danger. But up ahead lies the scent of a happy ending. Wadjda knows it is there and bears down on the pedals.
Xan Brooks – The Guardian - July 2013