REVIEW: Mustang (2015, Dir. Deniz Gamze Ergüven)

In a film that gets intimate with the lives of five young women in modern Turkey, it is no surprise at all that Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s Mustang runs the emotional gamut within the first few scenes. A teary farewell to a beloved teacher, some ecstatic splashing down on the beach, then a phenomenal crash when the claustrophobia of small-town paternalism closes in around the sisters. The end result is a twisted house arrest, which does nothing to diminish the girls’ lust for life, or their determination to interact with the world outside.

Microcosm is a fine thing when you have a cast as passionate and as natural as Ergüven’s. The sisters’ easy chemistry shines through as they act out against the Wife-101 classes delivered by “helpful” local women. The tone is almost cultish as the whole village pitches in to prepare the girls for their soon-to-be-imposed marriages. But, driven by the youngest, Lale (Güneş Şensoy), the girls bolster each other to secure the best outcome from their bad situation. The acts of defiance range from the self-determination of the eldest, Sonay (İlayda Akdoğan), to the desperate and dangerous self-harm of Ece (Elit İşcan). Only Selma (Tuğba Sunguroğlu) accepts her fate with the expected deference and even then the hymen-obsessed patriarchy is not appeased.

There’s an air of resignation to Mustang that permeates the actions of every single character, barring of course the girls’ uncle, Erol (Ayberk Pekcan), who with threatened violence enforces the status quo. The pervading “women are property” mindset is so palpable Ergüven’s barred-windowed scenario sometimes feels superfluous. Around the young girls, the women, like prison guards, do much of the patriarchy’s dirty work, outing the girls with ridiculous accusations, punishing them, entrapping them.

But they also run a form of underground resistance, affirming their solidarity and shielding the girls from harm, and these cracks in the walls provide Mustang with its shimmering hope. Nowhere is this pressure-releases better handled than the village-disabling actions of girls’ grandmother in response to the girls being discovered at a female-spectatored football match (an event only made possible by male violence). The community’s abiding shame is that these acts of isolated protection inevitably press the women to cower deeper in the familiar.

Marriage remains the only real safeguard against the girls’ continued imprisonment, their abuse and their rebellion. If they can only be brought into the fold, everything and everyone will be safe again. Yet, with each wedding the world becomes darker and darker. By the time Lale and her one remaining sister, Nur (Doğa Doğuşlu), are faced with their own accelerated betrothals, the environment is almost sinister.

What ultimately makes Mustang so beautiful and so damning is the way it is able to play the reality of the girls’ hobbled destinies off the soaring heights of their increasingly abstract potential. Their imprisonment and their release (physical, sexual and emotional) interact in such a way as to disrobe the patriarchy without becoming overtly didactic. Ergüven navigates this intoxicating duality of mood with ample assistance of her cinematographers, David Chizallet and Ersin Gok, who use honey light to reinforce the film’s warmer moments and of Warren Ellis’ score, which aches with hopeful melancholy. Through this she gives permission for her film to be treated as both tragedy and celebration.

In Mustang, Ergüven has delivered a rare film. A coming of age drama that recognises that the destination is already compromised but doesn’t hold back on its joy. It takes resilience to dance in the face of oppression but in doing so the statement is made all the more powerful. This is the art of change.

★★★★

Trailer: