“Don’t miss the train, even if you don’t have a ticket,” is a saying I grew up hearing from the older women in my community. It meant: get married, no matter what it takes. Pin him down. Or better yet, pin his mother down.

 

Mothers and daughters will parade themselves around at any given opportunity for the chance to catch the eye of a prospective mother-in-law, and Irtizaz is a satire of this ritual.

 

Now that I have passed the “prime marriageable age” and have grown out of those values, I can’t help but to look back to the years I spent chasing that train: at weddings, mosques, and even at funerals! I was unaware of the conditioning, the grooming, the pressure placed not only on me, but on my mother, to keep me ‘eligible.’ To look a certain way, to speak politely, to remain visible and acceptable in the right social circles.

 

The story follows Juju, a young divorcée trying to reenter a game whose rules are stacked against her. Her divorce, her age, and her refusal to conform make her an outsider, yet she continues to try, seeking her mother’s approval. Through her struggle, I explore the absurdity of the performative rituals tied to marriage, and the emotional toll they take on young women (Saudi & otherwise) who are told their worth lies in being chosen.

 

As writer/director, I wanted to approach this world with both honesty and satire. Irtizaz is not just a critique, it’s an invitation to laugh at how bizarre, theatrical, and tragic these social dynamics can be. The film is a glimpse into this world, a look at the lengths that these mothers and daughters will go to at the cost of one’s happiness. As our main character fights for her train seat, combatting societal pressures and internalized shame, we come to understand the absurdity of this world.

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- Sara Balghonaim