A Film a Week - Cold Sigh / Ahe sard

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

One could hardly associate Iran with snow and frost, but the two actually dominate the landscape of Nahid Sedigh’s feature debut “Cold Sigh”. Such “looks”, combined with the ethical dilemma as its certain topic and the elevated genre flavours with the motifs of a road movie and backwoods noir would normally ensure that the film travels the festival circuit after the premiere at Fajr back in 2023, which in a way happened, but not to the expected gatherings.

After the flash-forward opening shot that finally gets its meaning at the end of the film, we meet our protagonist Baha (Iman Sedigh) asleep in his old pick-up truck that got stuck in the wet snow. His uncle comes to his assistance, but he also informs him that the man called Bahram will be soon released. We learn that Bahram served the 20-year sentence for murder and his crime affected the whole village, especially Baha. However, Baha volunteers to pick him up and give him ride home…

Once he does so, the two start the long ride in complete silence that is only broken by Baha’s order that smoking is not allowed inside the cabin, meaning that Bahram (the veteran Ali Bagheri) has to wait for the pause for smoking. There would be plenty of pauses, since some roads are closed due to the weather conditions and, for the same reason, the improvised gas stations are out of fuel officially, but the owners might be interested in selling their own stash at higher prices. While Baha debates with himself whether to simply execute Bahram for the sins he committed or just to leave him in the harm’s way, we learn a thing or two about the relation and the history between them…

While the topics of the moral dilemma and navigating the rough social landscape are the staple diet of the American neo-westerns, rural thrillers and backwoods noirs, and the slow-moving, obstacle-ridden road movie serves as the metaphor of hardly getting anywhere in life, the question is whether the bare-bones plot and the wrapping of mystery of the initial relationship between the two main characters could drive the film across the finish line. It appears that Nahid Sedigh would be more than successful in the first two thirds of the film, due his sense of style to make “Cold Sigh” appear quite a unique genre blender and also for the storytelling in which the crucial pieces of information are given to us in drip-like quantities. However, once all the cards are on the table, it inevitably runs out of gas, much like Baha’s old Toyota.

Even so, there is still much to enjoy in “Cold Sigh”. For instance, the director lays the ground for the two actors to engage in micro-acting competition of playing the strong and silent types where Iman Sedigh is a worthy adversary to the masterful Ali Bagheri, while the rest of the actors playing the bit roles follow their cues. Nahid Sedigh also controls the visual aspect of the film mixing the flavours of the authentic Iranian cinema (shots inside the car while driving, barren landscapes) with those from the western and northern influences, and the execution of his wishes by the cinematographer Masoud Amini Tirani and the editor Pooyan Sholevar is spot-on. The audio components also work well in the synergy of Hassan Mahdavi’s discreet sound design and the short, well-timed passages of orchestration in Foad Ghahremani’s score.

Maybe the too-revealing plot descriptions both online and in the festival catalogues, as well as opening shot and the “mileage” of the viewer in the terms of the genres spoil the pleasures of seeing “Cold Sigh” for the first time. But still, it is quite an enjoyable experience.

A Film a Week - Beyond the Wall / Shab, Dakheli, Divar

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

If they do not want to be persecuted by the state, while keeping their chances at the international film festival circuit, the Iranian filmmakers must not be too open in their criticism towards the state policies. Carefully inserted metaphors are usually the way to go for covering the tracks and Vahid Jalilvand has so far managed to do so with his previous films, “Wednesday, May 9” (2015) and “No Date, No Signature” (2017) which both premiered at Venice Horizons section. He tries to do the same with his newest effort “Beyond the Wall”, which premiered at the main competition of last year’s Venice. After a tour of festivals like Toronto, Busan, Hamburg and Göteborg, it was shown at the competition of Belgrade International Film Festival, where we caught it.

When we meet our protagonist, Ali (Navid Mohammadzadeh, repeating the collaboration with Jalilvand after playing the main role in the filmmaker’s previous effort), he is in such a desperate state that he tries to commit suicide in his spartan apartment in a very brutal and very creative fashion involving a soaking-wet T-shirt over his face sealed by a nylon bag, with his hands blocked by the bathroom pipes. He is interrupted by the knock on the door: the police are looking for a fugitive woman that came into the building and might be hiding in Ali’s apartment. The thing is, Ali is almost completely blind and therefore can have little to no interaction to the outer world, apart from the visits by his doctor (the veteran Amir Aghaee) who brings him much-needed medicine Ali is reluctant to use and even cigarettes, and the sudden visits by the building manager and the police inspector who is interested in letters he receives from a certain woman he helped in the past, but is unable to read them.

The fugitive woman in question, Leila (the newcoming Diana Habibi), is actually hiding in his apartment after taking part in the workers’ protest that turned sour when the police intervened. She is looking for a place to take a breather and to organize the search for her son that got lost in the riot. Could the two people in peril help each other once they meet? And is everything exactly as it seems in Jalilvand’s film?

The ingenious premise would have made for a killer short film, but in “Beyond the Wall”, it is stretched to the demanding runtime of over two hours. The main problem, however, is not how long it is, but how it is expanded to such a format, as Jalilvand has prepared some flashbacks, sharp plot twists, red herrings and the final packaging that feels nonsensical up to the point when everything falls to its place too conveniently.

Directing-wise, the filmmaker makes the best of the three major locations he uses (Ali’s apartment that looks like a place lifted straight from the apocalypse – kudos to the production designer Keyvan Moghaddam, the riot in front of the factory and the police van in which Leila is driven after she was arrested) and the instrument of flashback, offering a couple a long ones and several shorter in order to play with the perspective and the point of view, ultimately confusing the viewer to the point of disorientation. The technical components are employed properly, as Adib Sobhani’s cinematography uses the typical Iranian traits of hand-held shaking only when necessary, favouring the more controlled steadicam approach, and the filmmaker’s own editing that is occasionally rough, but nevertheless rhythmic.

Jalilvand shows less craft in directing actors that are both kept locked in an elevated emotional register playing the thinly-characterized characters that only make sense in the end, after the series of twists and turns. Navid Mohammadzadeh fares a bit better off, since his character is more grounded, and also because he is a seasoned actor, while Diana Habibi’s performance sometimes goes in the hysterical mode.

With “Beyond the Wall”, Vahid Jalilvand certainly tries too much, both in the sense of genre that swings between drama and quasi-thriller, while still remaining cautious and avoiding more open social criticism. But even so, the film is worth seeing once.

A Film a Week - Until Tomorrow / Ta farda

 previously published on Cineuropa

When Ali Asgari’s second feature, Until Tomorrow, premiered in the Berlinale’s Panorama section earlier this year, it seemed like it might or might not become a “festival darling” in the near future, not because of its qualities, which were never in any doubt, but because of the relative lack of novelty, given that it tells a typical Iranian story about individuals fighting against the rigid and unjust system. In the meantime, the development of events in Iran has made Until Tomorrow look like one of the most socially important films of the year and a prequel, of sorts, to the ongoing revolution, which explains its causes.

Until Tomorrow has played at several festivals like Zurich (where it won a Special Mention in the international competition), but the pace of the bookings has sped up recently, with Valencia, Zagreb and Stockholm all lined up. At Zagreb, the film is being screened in the parallel Together Again programme, since Asgari already competed at the gathering with his feature debut, Disappearance, five years ago.

Fereshteh (Sadaf Asgari, the filmmaker’s niece, who also starred in Disappearance) is a single mum living in a block of flats somewhere in Tehran. She is tired but happy, juggling her work at the print shop and taking care of her two-month-old daughter. However, one phone call changes everything and reveals how desperate her life situation is. Her parents are about to come to the city later that evening: they do not know, and must not learn, about their daughter having a child out of wedlock. So Fereshteh must find places to put the baby, and all the baby stuff, until the next day. Even the “stuff” aspect proves to be an issue in a country where surveillance and paranoia feed off each other, which makes finding someone to take the baby girl in and take care of her for the night almost impossible.

Luckily, Fereshteh has one true friend, Atefeh (Ghazal Shojaei), ready to help as much as she can (she lives in a student dorm, so she cannot take the baby in herself), and the two girls start their urban road trip from one unlikely idea for a solution to another, encountering people who might be good or bad in their hearts, but who are all controlled by their fear of some authority figure. They will likewise encounter threats, scheming and extortion, but will also share some “girl power”-like encouragement over a cigarette as night falls over the city.

Given that it is similar to Ali Asgari’s previous entry, in which a couple seek medical assistance after their first lovemaking attempt has gone wrong, as well as a number of Iranian and non-Iranian socially aware films, Until Tomorrow could have ended up wallowing in the stale waters of drabness, filmed in typical, hand-held, long takes that follow the protagonists on their (futile) efforts. However, Rouzbeh Raiga’s camerawork is less shaky and more colourful than that, with a special emphasis on striking contrasts (such as the baby’s pink clothes against the encroaching darkness), Ehsan Vasehi’s editing keeps the tempo and the dynamism close to the territory of a thriller, and the script written by Ali Asgari and Alireza Khatami offers some much-needed breaks from the overwhelming darkness in the form of some slightly absurdist humour. Nevertheless, the real selling point of the film is Sadaf Asgari, who seizes the opportunity to show off her marvellous acting skills, especially later on in the film, and persuade us that her character’s fight is also our own struggle, making Until Tomorrow one of the strongest emotional viewing experiences of 2022.

A Film a Week - Summer with Hope

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Rarely in cinema, and especially in Iranian cinema, we get a glimpse into the lives of upper classes, especially upper-middle class, commonly known as bourgeoisie. The oddity is even higher if the plot of the story is not set in the capital Teheran. “Summer with Hope”, a sophomore feature by Sadaf Foroughi, following her 2017 acclaimed debut “Ava”, is one of such oddities. The film premiered at the Crystal Globe main competition of Karlovy Vary and it seems like it will be going places, establishing Montreal-based Foroughi as one of the most interesting voices in the contemporary Iranian cinema.

Our hero Omid (Mahdi Gorbani, seen in Saeed Roustayi’s 2016 title “Life and a Day”) whose name translates to “hope” from Farsi is a big swimming prodigy, which was the reason for his family, mother Leili (Leili Rashidi, returning to the collaboration with Foroughi after “Ava”) and uncle Saadi (Alireza Kamali) to move from Teheran to an elite residential area in Gilan province on the bank of the Caspian Sea. While Leili waits to finalize the divorce from Omid’s father, the son puts all his hopes in the upcoming swimming championship.

Omid is a national team-level of a talent, but he is denied the right to compete due to technicality by the strict, somewhat bureaucratic coach Karman (Milad Mirzaee), which serves as the entry point of the escalating situation in which we are about to learn a thing or two about the relationship between Omid and his junior coach Mani (Benyamin Peyrovani), the dynamics within the family and the way how the Iranian society operates in some situations, fuelled by rumours of the coach and student maintaining a clandestine gay relationship. Our hero is driven by angst and impulses, and his every action puts him deeper in trouble with all of the authority figures in his surroundings…

Like many films currently on the festival circuit, “Summer with Hope” is a bit too long and too slow for its own good, especially in its exposition phase, so it takes quite a bit of time for the viewer to sense where the actual story is starting and on what grounds. Once it is achieved, it plays out like an atmospheric, complex mix between the family drama and a thriller in which the things unspoken echo way louder than the spoken ones. Imagine a Xavier Dolan film (Foroughi actually quotes the Quebecois “enfant terrible” auteur with the opening shot of Omid dancing to a loud club hit in a neon-lit club), with all of its inter-familial relationships and the characters at odds with the society that surrounds them due to certain behaviour codes, but set in a way more conservative society.

The parallels with Canada and North America in general do not stop here, since the whole film looks a bit American and Canadian, from its filtered visual polishes and steadicam shots lensed by Amin Jafari (whose recent work we saw in Panah Panahi’s last year’s debut “Hit the Road”), to the very landscape bathed in deep greens of the surrounding woods and North American suburban, modernist architecture of the settlement and all its facilities. One might even assume that a lot of work was put on the production designer to scale down the consumerism plentifulness regarding the interiors and the props team to acquire all those French cars and the Iranian licence plates to make the place pass as Iran. Surprisingly, the place like this actually exists in Iran, and is influenced by the complicated history which is never mentioned, but still keeps hanging in the air.

Even in the acting department, there is some of the restrain contrasting the usual theatrical style that is kept in the Iranian cinema. That certainly does not mean that it is devoid of expressiveness and emotions, but there is a sense of a stricter directorial control along the lines of psychological realism, which suits such a story well.

Deft in the terms of craft, intriguing as the story with some additional layers to it and strongly atmospheric, “Summer with Hope” might take a bit of time to start moving. But once it does, it becomes gripping. It is an example of a fine cinematic work.

A Film a Week - Like a Fish on the Moon / Balaye aseman zire ab

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Family is the hotbed for many things, positive and negative, usually negative. One problem might multiply and make the situations escalate quickly. One such Iranian family stands in the focus of the film “Like a Fish on the Moon” written and directed by the up and coming filmmaker Dornaz Hajiha. The film premiered at the newly established Proxima competition at Karlovy Vary.

We know that something is wrong in the seemingly idyllic lives of Haleh (Sepidar Tari) and Amir (Shahdyar Shakiba) right from the very start, and we know what the problem is exactly: their son Ilya (Ali Ahmadi) has stopped talking suddenly and apparently for no reason. Other than that, their lives seem perfectly normal for the members of the middle class in the urban areas of Iran. They both work, they have a place to live and a car to drive and Ilya has toys and video-games to play with. Of course, the sometimes have arguments, some of them heated, and Ilya sometimes hears them arguing.

There is no physical reason for Ilya not to be able to communicate, and he actually goes into some basic communication. Every doctor and every therapist the couple encounters has its own theory, and every their acquaintance has a doctor or a therapist to recommend. Their parenting style, however, differs: Haleh is more of a “helicopter mom” who would not stop hoovering over her son until she feels she has done everything, while Amir is more of a strict, structured dad. When one psychotherapist suggests that the two should switch roles regarding the care of their son, a rift between them widens…

In Hajiha’s film, coming after several shorts and a 2015 mid-length “Lost”, almost all of the components of the so-called Iranian style are present. We get the hand-held camerawork that follows our characters, reverse shots in dialogue scenes, long one-take scenes taking place in the car, an occasional jump cut and so on. Those are usually employed functionally, sometimes with particular wits, for instance the thing that we never see the faces of the doctors and the therapists is a good decision. On the other hand, the slow progress of the plot and repetitions with minimal variations that fuel the gradual rise of the tension between the spouses, might tire a viewer out even after the very compact runtime of 78 minutes, especially if the hypothetical viewer is not that into that “married with children” situation.

The actors do their job commendably well. Typically expressive Iranian acting style suits the scenes when the emotional tension is risen to a higher level, but both Sepidar Tari and Shahdyar Shakiba are quite capable to act in the low key and in more realistic manner when the script wants them to. However, the lion’s share of praise should be given to the child actor Ali Ahmadi who has only facial expression and movement on his disposal to act his part. The newcomer manages to win the audience over and keep it related to his character. On the visual and technical level, “Like a Fish on the Moon” is a competent work, although it is clear that Dornaz Hajiha worked with a modest budget.

In the end, “Like a Fish on the Moon” lands on the territory of a slightly above average film, more on the arthouse than on the crowd-pleaser side, which is also fair. If it could be a bit livelier or if could it problematize and explore some other fields (for instance, the class background of the leads and their particular lifestyle choices based on it), it could have been even better. But as a story of parenting and one problem becoming a series of problems, it is also good enough.

A Film a Week - A Hero / Ghahreman

 Previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Penal system is the common topic in Iranian cinema, and for good reasons so. Firstly, the problems with it are real, from the death penalty that is administered way too much to the overcrowded prisons and the toxic mix between the all-powerful bureaucracy and the vision of justice more based in some elusive code of honour than in written laws. Secondly, prisons are the perfect metaphor for the isolated, deeply unhappy society. Thirdly, the whole idea of punishment instead of rehabilitation that is in place in Iran (among other countries) is not only prone to backfiring, but is absurd in its core, since the person with a prison record has less chances in life generally. The sense of absurdity is highlighted when it comes to imprisoning people for debt: theoretically they have to stay in prison until they pay it off, but practically it is impossible as long as they are incarcerated.

Situation like is at the centre of Asghar Farhadi’s new film “A Hero” which premiered at Cannes’ official competition, where it won Grand Prix and François Chalais Award. We were lucky to catch it early on its festival tour, at Sarajevo Film Festival’s magnificent Open Air stage.

Farhadi opens and closes the film with a shot of a prison, which he sees as a human zoo of sorts, but with open gates, meaning that the prisoners can occasionally go in and out. That is the case with Rahim (Amir Jadidi) who is imprisoned for the debt to his creditor and former brother in law, Bahram (Mohsen Tanabandeh) who lent him money to pay off the loan sharks after his business went bust. On a weekend leave, Rahim forges a plan to get out of prison and stay out of trouble for good: his secret girlfriend (it has to be a secret, since he is divorced, imprisoned and disgraced) Farkhondeh (Sahar Goldust) has found a handbag with some gold coins in it, so they would sell them in order for Rahim to arrange an agreement with Bahram to get out of prison so the couple can get married and restart their life. Since Bahram is suspicious towards Rahim’s ability to pay and keep paying the instalments, the deal falls through.

Rahim then changes his plan: he will look for the owner and give the bag back to her, which he does with the agency of his sister Mali (Maryam Shahdaei) and her husband Hossein (Alireza Jahandideh). The prison warden is delighted with Rahim’s honesty and wishes to make him a hero in the eyes of public and to use him as a publicity stunt that the prison actually reforms people. All of a sudden, Rahim is a hero, the local charity organization joins his case and his chances for liberation look good. But Bahram is still not convinced that Rahim has found his honesty, so he keeps finding holes in his story, and he is not the only one to do so, especially in a mass- and social media-driven society. Can Rahim, who seems as an honest, but unadjusted man in a cunning society, endure all the pressure, especially knowing that he has a bit of temper and that he is sensitive to the injustice…

Farhadi relies on his theatrical experience to direct “A Hero” in a subdued fashion, using slightly longer takes captured in the hand-held camerawork by Ali Ghazi and Arash Ramezani, which adds the additional feeling of realism to this working- or lower-middle class drama. For the filmmaker, the milieu is a bit out of his comfort zone, but he shows that he understands it while highlighting the details for the maximal emotional and cerebral effect t. The good thing is that, due to the fluid acting and clear sense of rhythm in the editing, keeps the film engaging for the whole of its 127 minutes of runtime, albeit it still feels a bit overlong.

The problem lays in Farhadi’s script which is, figuratively speaking, being lead to some side alleys that, story-wise, lead nowhere, but are precious for the filmmaker’s real intentions. Fahradi is actually more interested in a complicated ethics play and polemic in which individual actions are being judged by the system that can be influenced by different factors.

On that level, “A Hero” is a superb work, but as movie it loses its momentum at places, especially those that feel constructed or “overplayed”. Nevertheless, it is a fine film that can be placed around the middle on the ladder of Farhadi’s opus.

A Film a Week - Hit the Road / Jaddeh Khaki

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Panah Panahi is the son of the acclaimed Iranian dissident filmmaker Jafar Panahi, the winner of many prizes at the top film festivals and the auteur who was sentenced to 6 years in prison and 20-year filmmaking ban for his socially critical work. Panah inhereted his father’s filmmaking talent, got his filmmaking education and learned the tricks of the trade by assisting his father and even co-editing his film “3 Faces” (2018). “Hit the Road” is Panahi Junior’s feature directing debut that was selected for Directors Fortnight at Cannes. We had the chance to see it at Sarajevo’s Open Air section.

Hit the Road opens to the sounds of Chopin’s piano music over the black screen before the action starts in the car. A hyperactive, obviously bored boy (Rayan Sarlak), pretend-plays the keyboard drawn on the cast on his father’s (Hassan Madjooni) leg. The mother (Pantea Panahiha of “Breath” and “I Am Diego Maradona” fame) sits on the front seat, while the elder brother (Amir Simiar) is the driver. There is a sense of secrecy around the family road trip, it certainly is not a vacation, the car is a rental and the cell phones are forbidden. It actually has something to do with the sullen and largely silent much older brother, the kid brother is told the reason for his trip abroad (illegally crossing the border) is the prospect of marriage, but the story rings fake. By the end of the film, we shall know more.

The trip itself has many bumps and situations on the way to keep us interested according to the laws of the dramaturgy, but “Hit the Road” is not a film of much action. Everyone in the family plays a certain role, the kid is a little menace and a sort-of comic relief, the bearded father is cynical in order to hide his true emotions and fears, the mother is empathetic, but stoic, suggesting that she shares a special bond with his older son, while the big brother is somewhat mysterious. There is also the sick family dog as a plot device or a metaphor of sorts that highlights the unease of the situation. The film is actually about the family relations and the emotional weight of one of the family members parting.

Panahi directs his first feature with style and elegance, channeling the energy and the hypnotic feeling of the masters of his father’s generation of Iranian filmmakers. Some of the scenes he carefully sets and shoots are a prime example of visual poetry, some others feel a notch too staged, but for a good reason. At one point, he even takes a trip out of the realistic realm he keeps his film grounded in for the rest of the film.

The acting is stellar and energetic, albeit the characters sometimes fit the well-known types and the family bickering is somewhat of a genre of its own. Pantea Panahiha occupies the emotional center of the film with grace and integrity, Hassan Madjooni balances well between the world-weariness and wit of his character, Amin Simiar is efficient as the quiet, worried one, while the sheer energy Sarlak is the proper discovery of the film.

Aesthetically, “Hit the Road” is a wonderful to look at. Amin Jafari’s cinematography captures the beauty of the natural surroundings in Northern Iran, while the smart editing by Ashkan Mehri and Amir Etminan induces some interesting rhythm changes in an overall deliberately slow pace. In the end, “Hit the Road” is nothing short of an impressive feature debut, making Panah Panahi one of the exciting new voices of the Iranian cinema.

A Film a Week - Tooman

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Tooman (or toman) is the super-unit of currency in Iran (worth 10 rials, used in the monetary calculations in daily life) and also the title of Morteza Farshbaf’s third feature film. What revolves around what in this one is actually quite an easy guess. The movie premiered earlier this year at Fajr Film Festival before the festival touring options were cut short for the whole industry. We got to see it at Tallinn Black Nights where it competed in the official selection.

The film follows the two buddies, Davood (Mirsaeed Molavian) and Aziz (Mojtaba Pirzadeh, glimpsed in Asghar Farhadi’s Oscar-winning “The Salesman”) over the course of a year. The guys and their gang of friends are passionate about three things: football (as in soccer), horse races and gambling, so they, lead by Davood, devise a betting operation of sorts which brings them billions and billions of toomans seemingly by pure luck. Once the big money enters the picture, things tend to go sour for all of them personally and on the level of group dynamic. Could Davood, Aziz and their crew keep their sanity, friendship and lives?

“Tooman” was clearly inspired by the American crime-drama classics, especially those directed by Martin Scorsese. Some of the key ingredients are also here in the mix, like the typical “rise and fall” narrative, the bursts of violence and even the questionable attitude towards the women. The only thing “Tooman” lacks is a narrator who would tell the story with more clarity and some sense of humour, which is just the beginning of the problems.

Long story short: Farshbaf is not Scorsese even by a long shot. The plot is so bewildering that pretty much every aspect of it seems random and the filmmaker’s attempts to provide an illustration by graphics of the bets and wins are largely futile. In the end, we do not know a thing about their operation, is it fair by anyone’s standard, who are they crossing, how and why. Also, the toxic masculinity of Farshbaf’s characters (the women here are basically non-entities, their only use is to be hit or shouted at for hindering) is never countered with any form of criticism.

Directing-wise, the film also does not live up to its own ambition, especially when the filmmaker, whose past experiences are in the realm of drama, tries to play with the genre. The lack of production values and the technical know-how speaks volumes here. It is a bit better when it comes to the breakdowns within the characters’ minds and the consequences for their friendship, but it also basically goes nowhere. Luckily, Farshbaf has some sense of aesthetics, so he can treat us with a shot or two of the Iranian cinematic elegance (executed by the cinematographer Morteza Najafi), usually having something to do with a moving car and two people talking in it, while the electronica-infused soundtrack by Mohamadreza Heydary closely follows the mood cleverly framed in the four acts named after the seasons of the year.

In the end, “Tooman” is just an ambitious projects whose ambition is never backed by the clarity of vision and the sharpness of execution. Too bad.