Le tour races through itpworld‘s home town on July 6 so it seems appropriate to celebrate a glimpse of the Yellow Jersey with a favourite collection of images of bikes on film. Pride of place should go in this case to one of my favourite Jean-Luc Godard films, Une femme est une femme (France 1961) in which Anna Karina is the partner of Jean-Claude Brialy who follows sport with a passion, listening to football on the radio and cycling around the tiny apartment as he thinks about cycle races:
I’ve scoured the internet for interesting images and discovered several ‘bikes in the movies’ blogs. I’ve listed some of the best at the end of the post. Apologies to all concerned from whom I’ve borrowed images – I hope you feel that it’s a good cause.
Who could resist the idea of Stan and Ollie running a bike shop?
Five entries for the sexiest cyclist:
Bikes can be sexy I think you’ll agree. Part of the appeal is the sense of freedom, the ‘go anywhere’ possibilities of the bike. But I have to confess those loose dresses and flashes of suntanned legs pumping the pedals are very alluring. As for Paul Newman on a bike, I’m not best equipped to explain why it works but it does. Here’s another trio:
Our local cycling connection from film history is A Boy, A Girl and a Bike (dir. Ralph Smart, UK 1949) filmed in some of the locations visited by the Le tour this weekend. It’s remembered now partly because the British 1950s sex symbol Diana Dors has a minor role, but there is much more to it than that.
Bicycles feature in several well-known British films, here are a few more:
Cycling was once essential for workers and here’s a famous example of riding home from work. It’s appropriate that Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (dir Karel Reisz, UK 1960) was set in Nottingham, home to the UK’s most famous manufacturer of bicycles, Raleigh.
Besides the practicalities of cycling, bicycles are an important part of the neo-realist tradition – an important plot device in those societies where ownership of a bike, or even just the chance to ride one, can change people’s lives. Bicycle Thieves (dir Vittorio De Sica, Italy 1948) is perhaps the most influential film on new filmmakers across the world:
Two images from Beijing Bicycle (dir Wang Xiaoshuai, China 2001):
Bicycles have given women freedom at certain times and here in Late Spring (dir Ozu Yasujiro, Japan 1949) Hara Setsuko is able to go out for a ride inan unusual sequence from an Ozu film:
In some societies, the bicycle is a potent symbol of gender difference and cultural/religious conflict as in Wadjda (dir. Haifaa Al Mansour, Saudi Arabia-Germany 2012):
and in The Day I Became a Woman (dir. Marziyeh Meshkini, Iran 2000)
And to round off our tribute to the peleton, a reminder of one of the most enjoyable bike films, Breaking Away (dir Peter Yates, US 1979)
Here’s that list of useful sites:
Undoubtedly one of the most important global films of the last twelve months, Wadjda is highly entertaining and very well-made but also raises a number of questions for film culture and film studies.
Viewed simply as a ‘festival film’ that has ‘broken out’ into wider distribution, Wadjda comes across as a familiar feelgood narrative utilising a neo-realist approach – i.e. taking a simple narrative premise familiar to audiences the world over and locating it in a recognisable ‘real world’ setting. The writer-director is also canny enough to pick up on the success of other recent films in terms of specific story elements. Wadjda is a ten (or possibly twelve) year-old girl who decides that the only way to compete with her neighbour Abdullah is to get hold of a bicycle and race him. Spotting a new bicycle being delivered to a local store in her neighbourhood in the Saudi capital Riyadh she quickly determines that she must somehow acquire the 800 ryals (about £140 or $215) to buy it. Although her family is relatively wealthy, problems between her parents means that they are unlikely to produce the money for her, so she ends up entering a ‘religious competition’ at school in the hope of winning the prize which would be just enough for the purchase. Even though she has no obvious interest in her religion she applies herself to learning to read and recite sura (chapters) of the Koran.
Any story about young people and bicycles has already got a headstart on the opposition. The bicycle offers that sense of freedom for a young person without the means to ride taxis (Riyadh being seemingly without public transport). There are few scenes in cinema as liberating as those featuring boys and girls on bicycles, whether they are Truffaut’s Les Mistons, the messenger in Beijing Bicycle or the Dardennes Brothers’ Kid With a Bike. Wadjda has the two essential ingredients to exploit the the story potential – a winning performance by Waad Mohammed as the girl and a talented creative team with a skilled crew to fully utilise the location and settings. Writer-director Haifaa Al-Mansour then fills out the story with two main sub-plots that arguably act metaphorically to reveal the social conditions and opportunities that face Wadjda (and all other Saudi girls) in the future.
The first of the two sub-plots involves Wadjda’s mother Reema who was married as a schoolgirl but whose husband is now looking for a second wife because Reema is unable to provide him with a son. At the same time, Reema faces problems as a working woman (in a society where women are not supposed to drive cars or be ‘exposed’ to men outside the home). The second sub-plot involves Ms Hussa, the principal of the school, an attractive younger woman (just like Reema) who appears to be a hard disciplinarian with a softer interior and who at one point tells Wadjda that she reminds her of her younger self.
The combination of the three narratives is reminiscent of another film featuring a young woman and a bicycle – Marziyeh Meshkini’s The Day I Became a Woman (Iran 2000). The school/home axis also refers to the first half of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis (France/US 2006). These are both films featuring girls and women growing up in Iran after the Islamic Revolution of 1979. Iran is not an Arab country but girls and women in Saudi Arabia face similar problems created by the restrictions of a highly conservative form of Islam. Herein lies the problem for Western film critics and scholars who have little exposure to the range of Arab film production. Popular Arab films from Egypt are not easily accessible. The films that do reach the West from Lebanon and Palestine often have different concerns with the effects of war and occupation often displacing the kinds of cultural issues central to Wadjda. Missing also is production coming from the affluent Gulf States where film culture in terms of consumption of mainly American movies in new multiplexes is growing quickly.
The result is that a film like Wadjda is singled out and praised as the first Saudi feature film – and a notable film by an Arab woman. The film narrative is then examined primarily in terms of its resistance to the representation of women in Saudi Arabian society. My feeling is that this in fact misrepresents the film itself and the filmmaker – who carries ‘the burden of representation’, being expected to fulfil the role assigned to her by Western media. Wadjda is properly described as a global film. Ironically, its Saudi base is the media company Rotana, arguably the biggest media corporation in the Middle East, which is majority owned by Saudi Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal with an 18% stake held by News Corporation. Rotana is the biggest music company in the region and also produces television series for the Arab world. Reem Abdullah who plays the mother is a leading star of Saudi television. The film is officially a Saudi-German co-production. The department heads and the producers are from the German industry. Haifaa Al Mansour herself was born in Saudi Arabia but educated at the American University in Cairo and then completed a Masters in Film at the University of Sydney. She now lives in Bahrain. This background is important in placing the film’s production in context. It does mean that there is a contradiction between the image of the ‘guerilla filmmaker’ who had to hide from view as she directed scenes on the streets of Riyadh (so as not to offend religious sensibilities) and a production backed by one of the most powerful media interests in the region.
Much of the coverage of the film’s appearance at festivals and now on release in the West focuses on the idea that this is the first film to be shot in Saudi Arabia. The fact that it was directed by a woman is then taken to be even more astounding. My point here is not intended as an attempt to downgrade the achievement of the director, but instead to expose the rather simplistic view of film and TV in the region as taken by many in the West. I’m not sure if the film is genuinely a ‘first’. I’ve seen claims that as many as 300 films have been identified in some way with Saudi Arabia and in his useful Guardian piece, Phil Hoad cites two recent examples. Since the 1980s cinemas have been banned in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia but they existed for a shortish period before the 1980s and cinema is accessible via satellite and DVD in homes – or over the border in the Emirates or Qatar. In 2009 Rotana did manage to screen one of their films in several Saudi cities. Does it really matter where the film is shot, who financed it or whether it is a co-production? The important point, as Hoad insists, is for Arab filmmakers generally and Saudis in particular, to create stories about themselves and to circulate them so that they can contribute to the creation of identities for Arabs and by Arabs – rather than through a lens controlled by Hollywood studios or constructed by Western critics.
Haifaa Al Mansour has created an entertaining and engaging story which contributes towards the ongoing debate about how women can gain more control over their lives under a regime informed by conservative religious interests. In this sense, the film is similar to those family melodramas that have delved into the changing mores of societies in Asia as well as Europe and the Americas. Here’s the director in the Press Notes commenting on the gender representations:
“Maybe it is a women‘s film! But I really didn‘t intend it that way. I wanted to make a film about things I know and experienced. A story that spoke to my experiences, but also to average Saudis. It was important for me that the male characters in the film were not portrayed just as simple stereotypes or villains. Both the men and the women in the film are in the same boat, both pressured by the system to act and behave in certain ways, and then forced to deal with the system’s consequences for whatever action they take. I do really like the scenes of the mother and the daughter together, and I think that a lot of love and emotion comes through in their relationship, when they are cooking or singing together, there is something very beautiful about it.”
This is certainly how I read the film. The performances are very good and the narrative is very accessible. I hope it gets the wider audiences it deserves. In the UK it is still showing in some cinemas and will appear on DVD in January 2014. Here’s an extract on the Doha Film Institute site:
And here are some useful links:
http://www.allreadable.com/baf0D5vj (extended English subtitles with song lyrics)
http://www.readwithtajweed.com/tajweed_Intro.htm (explanation of some of the Arabic dialogue referring to the recitation of the Koran)
http://salwanajd.wordpress.com/2010/03/20/traditional-food-from-najd-region/ (recipe for ‘Margoog’, the popular local dish eaten in the film)