‘Naga’: Red Sea Review

Dir/scr: Meshal Aljaser. Saudi Arabia. 2023. 111mins

This feature debut from award-winning Saudi short filmmaker Meshal Aljaser upends expectations at every turn. A Middle Eastern comedy thriller which distils familiar regional themes of tradition, conservatism and the subjugation of women through a bombastic, frenetic feminist survival narrative, it would not look out of place on a double bill with Tarantino or the Safdie brothers.

A bombastic, frenetic feminist survival narrative 

Arriving at the Red Sea Film Festival having premiered, fittingly, in Toronto’s Midnight Madness, Naga will particularly appeal to adventurous genre audiences. While its setting is geographically and culturally specific, Aljaser’s distinctive visual style and an impressive central performance from Screen’s Arab Star of Tomorrow Adwa Bader should tempt wider viewers when it debuts on Netflix on December 7.

An opening sequence establishes the bravura tone, as a gun-toting man infiltrates a hospital and shoots dead the male doctor who dared to deliver his wife’s baby. This may have taken place in 1970, but, over 50 years later, an aggressively patriarchal culture still prevails in the country. Like many young Saudi women, Sarah (Bader) feels suffocated by the rules which curtail her freedoms, but is also petrified of her ultra-strict father. So when she ditches an approved shopping trip with friends to go on a clandestine desert date with Saad (Yazeed Almajyul), she knows she has to be back in time for her 9:59pm curfew.

Yet Sarah’s best laid plans slip through her fingers like the sand in which she finds herself marooned, when the illicit rave Saad takes her to is busted by the police. While her journey begins in the blazing sun of a Saudi day, it soon descends into darkness — both figuratively, as Sarah comes up against a variety of dangers, and literally, with cinematographer Ibraheem Alshangeeti making liberal, and at times confusingly shadowy, use of the pitch-black anonymity of the desert at night. 

It is here that Sarah finds herself having to overcome myriad barriers: Saad disappears at the rave, leaving her without a ride; she finds herself locked in a tent with an acclaimed, pompous local poet, who lectures her about the failures of the younger generation; and her phone dies, leading her on a futile search for a charger. Most horrifying, however, is an extended attack by a vengeful camel (‘naga’ in Arabic) which on paper sounds farcical, but in reality is intense and effective with the shaky, handheld camera tight on Sarah’s bloodied face, the animal’s heavy hooves silhouetted in the headlights of the car under which Sarah is trapped, its breath heavy on the soundtrack. It is a truly memorable set piece. 

Other moments are not so successful. Disorienting cinematography, in which the camera turns upside down or shoots at extreme angles, aims for immersion but can be distracting. The eclectic score, which pulls in everything from Spaghetti Western strings to the electro pulse of horror, matches the frenzied visuals but is often jarringly unsubtle. More effective is the colour palette, the bright, bleached yellows of the day giving way to the purple hues of dusk and then the all-consuming blackness of night, where lights on the horizon signal danger more often than sanctuary.

The one constant is Bader, who imbues Sarah with enough personality, grit and hard-edged charisma that it is impossible not to root for her, even if the snowballing maelstrom begins to stretch the limits of credibility. She starts the day as a cigarette-smoking, gum-chewing, fiercely independent young woman, who clearly doesn’t suffer fools gladly — including her younger brother and the hapless Saad — and responds to the leers of men with a sneer or a quick-witted putdown. And she retains this spark, remaining determined and tenacious even as she becomes increasingly desperate. 

With the clock ticking (literally, with the time often being thrown up on screen), and the narrative flashing forward and backwards at key moments, the viewer is thrown into her predicament. We come to understand that Sarah has limited control over her own life and, for her, disobeying life’s strict rules is more terrifying a prospect than anything she may face in the desert.