Unidentified

A cleverly constructed thriller in which language shifts like the desert sands, Haifaa Al-Mansour’s Unidentified is not so much whodunnit as who-has-it-been-done-to. The principal part of the action kicks off when police are called out into the dunes to investigate the discovery a dead teenage girl. They take admin assistant Nawal (Mila Al Zahrani) along with them because this is Saudi Arabia, so some things have to be done by a woman, and she’s the only one around. Her boss, Colonel Najib, has no doubt that she can handle it because she’s always talking to him about true crime podcasts. A somewhat squeamish individual himself, he jokingly calls her the Executioner.

What he fails to anticipate is that Nawal will become obsessed by the crime. The dead girl has no ID. There’s no sign of sexual assault. It looks like she died from blunt force trauma and was carried there in the hope that the sand would swallow her. Could it have been an ‘honour’ crime? Nawal is horrified by the idea that she will be buried in an unmarked grave. Najib promises to keep the case open until a parent comes to claim her, but if they are to give her the dignity of a proper burial, they have only two weeks in which to solve the case.

A lot has changed in Saudi Arabia since Al-Mansour had her breakthrough with Wadjda in 2012. Although they still risk cultural disapproval should they take up the opportunity, women are free to do more things independently, and Nawal takes full advantage of that, as does Al-Mansour herself. This is a film with a deep interest in women’s lives, in the effects of continued inequality, and in the various means that women use to exercise agency despite this. it’s also honest about some women’s willingness to collude with the system, which may sometimes stem from a genuine moral alignment with it; and, crucially, it’s not afraid to present complicated, even unlikeable female characters.

Nawal herself is a firebrand. Despite the risks involved, she continually inserts herself into the investigation, chasing up her own leads and refusing to be deterred when her behaviour upsets influential people. Najib and her colleague Ali, who is officially in charge of the case, do their best to deter her, worried about the possible consequences, but stop short of penalising her. It’s refreshing to see a drama like this in which male characters support a woman and an honest appreciation of skill means more than state-supported prejudice. Nahib even encourages her to study for a formal policing qualification. Nevertheless, they can’t always be there, and the more she appears to make progress, the more dangerous the situation becomes.

There are a lot of twists and turns here which will please crime genre fans. Al Zahrani is a magnificent lead, investing heavily in a character who is more complex than she appears, vulnerable despite her toughness. There’s also good work from Abdullah Alqhahtani as a street artist who falls under suspicion, with the two interacting in a poignant scene which can be read in multiple ways. Meanwhile, Fatma Alshareef brings humanity to the difficult role of the victim’s mother, caught between her own grief and two different moral interpretations of how she might do right by her child.

Some viewers have expressed dissatisfaction with the film’s denouement, and one can see why, though it makes more sense on a second viewing. Al-Mansour’s craft is exquisite throughout, but it’s important not to focus too intently on the details and miss the big picture. Though she never states it directly, there is a strong political stance being taken here. It’s just not as comfortable as some people might like it to be. Her handsomely constructed images and deft character work cannot conceal the rot at the heart of Saudi society – indeed, they are not intended to – and its consequences influence everything.

Unidentified screened as part of the 2026 Glasgow Film Festival.

Reviewed on: 05 Mar 2026