Mustang

A street scene at the end of Mustang catches the central theme. As the two girls approach their former teacher’s Istanbul flat they walk between two signs. On the left is some Turkish graffiti, on the right a store sign in English: “Objects of Desire.” That catches the five sisters’ dilemma: they are caught between Turkey’s post-secular culture, which Erdogan has returned to harsh Islam, and the West’s open sexuality that the earlier modernization had brought into Turkey. Both define women by gender alone.

The five orphaned sisters live with their indulgent grandmother and abusive uncle. When a neighbour complains about the girls’ wild (but innocent) play with boys from their school the sisters are virtually imprisoned to protect their “honour.” Their home is turned into “a marriage factory.” Women come in to train them to be traditional wives. i.e., submissive homemakers.

The sisters’ career follows a pattern of arranged marriage. The oldest gets to marry the boy she loves. The second submits to a loveless marriage, in which her hymen survives the defloration. The third kills herself rather than submitting. The fourth rebels on her wedding night and — led by the youngest, who has the unbroken spirit of the mustang — escapes to Istanbul and the modern woman’s independence.

In their village the men have all the power. To confirm the patriarchy’s total control the uncle has been sodomizing at least two of the nieces he ostensibly protects. Male violence spoils the football game too, so that the next game is played to an arena full of women. The women may agree to a marital match but only the men can command it. When the men shoot their pistols into the air at a wedding it’s a macho strut. The unbroken hymen contradicts the pretence to male potency.

      Two men prove exceptions. The teacher lives with a man who obviously respects her intelligence and career. The truck-driver similarly appreciates the young girl who calls for his help, teaching her to drive and rescuing her. Men as well as women can resist being reduced by male authority.
      Against this institutionalized power Turkish woman director Deniz Erguven posits an implicit sisterhood. Even after the grandmother has raged at the sisters’ behaviour she defends them against her son’s anger. Still, she confiscates the computers and cell phones that presumably she has allowed them to by modern. The older women collaborate to prevent the men’s discovering that the girls have escaped to attend the football game. In Istanbul the girl asking a local woman for directions calls her “Big sister,” presumably a familiar colloquialism.

      The exuberance and camaraderie of the five sisters is a model for a radical, interdependent sisterhood. This French-German-Turkish production addresses the religious suppression of women not just in Turkey but in the Middle East, indeed everywhere but Israel. Of course the problem rages well beyond that region.