I’ve never been to Turkey, and so have little to add to the debate over whether the heroines of Mustang (and their wild, luxurious hair) fight a fight common to its young women, at least those raised in its Black Sea villages, far from the cosmopolitan mores of Istanbul: I must believe critics like this one, who helpfully retitled the film “Five French Girls Walk Into an Antaolian Village.” (I can say, with total assurance, that their souls may be Turkish, but the girls’ hair is without doubt Parisian.) Under these circumstances, then, I think it is fair to treat the film as allegory, or fairy tale (as it would surely not be the first fairy tale to be as sunlit as it is, as dark-hearted as it is.) As allegory, as a fairy tale about freedom, as a faraway Rocky for teenage girls, it is wonderful. I loved this movie.