Haifaa al-Mansour is, far and away, the most recognizable and accomplished female Saudi Arabian filmmaker, and for good reason. Her films have done more to shine a light on Saudi women asserting their rights as reforms have begun to expand them. For instance, her breakout film, 2013’s Wadjda, centered on a young girl who just wants to ride a bicycle, arriving a few years before women gained the right to drive. Her underrated 2019 film The Perfect Candidate centered on a young woman, played by Mila Al-Zahrani, running for political office just a few years after that became legal. And now the final chapter in al-Mansour’s trilogy (each boundary-pushing protagonist is surnamed Al Saffan), the murder mystery Unidentified, finds a divorced woman investigating the murder of a teenager dumped in the desert.
Al-Zahrani returns as the lead in Unidentified, playing Nawal, who is doing something that would have been unthinkable not too long ago. Recently divorced, Nawal has moved into the city to live alone and work for the local police department digitizing paper files. She has aspirations of joining the force in a more investigative capacity, emboldened by the influencer she follows who combines makeup tips with true-crime cases. When the Jane Doe’s body is discovered, Nawal, who is one of only two women on the force, is brought on just to look at the body. But that isn’t enough for her, as she begins investigating the murder on her own, despite repeated warnings from the men above her to stop.
Al-Mansour, working with co-writer and husband Brad Brad Niemann, keep Unidentified at a low simmer throughout, with not a lot of tension surrounding Nawal’s investigation. Even when she’s dismissed by her colleagues or rebuked by her superior (Shafi Al Harthi), it doesn’t amount to much but a few stearn words, nothing that stops her at any point. If this were an American studio production, Nawal’s investigation would’ve involved a car chase, a shootout, maybe villain lurking in the shadows. Unidentified is tame as far as police procedurals and whodunnits go, with it always feeling as if al-Mansour is holding something back.
The bulk of the film finds Nawal using her gender to an advantage that her male colleagues never could. Al-Mansour’s goal with Unidentified seems to be to humanize many different kinds of women, as they tend to be given one-note portrayals in too many Saudi Arabian (and Hollywood) films. Nawal encounters some of the missing girls friends, some antagonistic and others cautiously helpful; there are medical examiners, mothers, businesswomen, and they all have some vested interest in either helping or hindering her case. Al-Mansour is putting on screen the world she wants to see, one where all of these women are free to be who they are, with the same repercussions that would befall men.
Al-Zahrani delivers an understated, quietly powerful performance as Nawal. She captures her determination to solve the case, but also her resolve to not let anyone, be they male or female, get in the way. Flashbacks tease the circumstances of her divorce, which al-Mansour cleverly uses to play with our preconceived notions about Saudi women abandoned by their ex-husbands.
Nawal is no victim, and a brilliant final act twist shows how far al-Mansour is willing to go to make that point. If the thing people remember most about Unidentified is how it shows the full breadth and scope that comes with being a woman, in a culture where women are devalued, then that is an accomplishment worth praising.
Unidentified is in theaters now via Sony Pictures Classics.
