Nadia Fall’s Brides, written by Suhayla El-Bushra, is a bold and deeply moving film that brings empathy to a subject too often handled with either sensationalism or prejudice. Inspired by the real-life phenomenon of young women leaving the UK to join Islamic State around a decade ago, the story follows two teenagers — thoughtful, reserved Doe (Ebada Hassan) and outspoken, mischievous Muna (Safiyya Ingar, electrifying) — as they set off on a fraught journey from London to the Turkey-Syria border.
What makes the film so striking is its refusal to reduce its characters to headlines. Through flashbacks of daily bullying, casual racism and their tentative first meeting in an art class, the film reminds us of the vulnerabilities that shape the duo’s decisions. These are not faceless figures from news reports but young women, barely out of childhood, searching for belonging and significance.
The performances are magnetic. Hassan brings a quiet, aching tenderness to Doe, while Ingar lights up the screen with sharp wit and restless energy. Together they create a friendship that feels authentic, touching and heartbreaking in its fragility.
Visually and tonally, Brides walks a delicate line. There is humour in the awkwardness of travel, warmth in encounters with strangers and yet a constant undertow of danger. Fall deliberately never sensationalises, instead, she builds tension through understatement, allowing the audience to feel both the excitement of escape and the dread of what lies ahead. The final sequences are devastating, not because of graphic detail but because of the contrast between innocence and what we know is coming.
If there is a flaw, it lies in pacing — the stretch between Istanbul and the border could move more briskly — but even here, the slower tempo allows space for character development and atmosphere.
Brides is, above all, a film about compassion. It doesn’t excuse or glorify the girls’ actions, but it insists on seeing Doe and Muna in their full humanity. By giving these young women complexity, humour, and heart, Fall has created a story that is not only timely but timeless — a moving reminder of how fragile the line can be between innocence and tragedy.
