This is Not a Film (Friday, March 2, 2012) (21)

In December 2010, Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi, one of the leaders of the Iranian New Wave, was sentenced to six years in prison and a 20-year ban on making films, writing screenplays or doing interviews. He was accused of colluding with others to make propaganda detrimental to the Iranian regime after being arrested at the grave of Neda Agha-Soltan, the woman who became famous for being killed on camera during the 2009 Green Revolution.

In 2011, locked in his apartment awaiting a decision from the appeals court, Panahi, along with friend and documentarian Mojtaba Mirtahmasb, shot a near-documentary, near-diary piece about a day in his life. The clever title, This is Not a Film, refers to his court-ordered ban on making films, but also raises a semantic dilemma about what exactly this is that we are watching. It's not really a film in a traditional sense that there is a particular plot of story that is being worked through; it is not a documentary about anything in particular, because Panahi's actions on this day are rather banal and not particularly intersting (he could leave his house, he's not in jail yet; he is making a movie of some form).

At first Panahi reads the script that would have been his next film, were he allowed to make it. Much like the neorealist content of his other works, this one deals with a woman in college. He puts tape on the floor of his massive and seemingly rich apartment to delineate her bedroom and rearranges the furniture to suggest the setting. As he begins to read from the text (he jokes that there was no ban on reading a script, so he's not violating the ruling), he stops to talk about the art of directing and the small details of working with non-actors, as he does in most of his films. He pulls out DVDs of his past films to show what he means. He begins to break down, as he realizes he cannot do this again for the foreseeable future.

This non-film proceeds and gets into a meta-discussion between Panahi and Mirtahmasb about the nature of documentaries and representation. It leaves us wondering how much of this is scripted and how much is natural. It seems totally natural, though Panahi's wife and daughter are curiously absent for the 12 or so hours the cameras are rolling (apparently if they were home they would have to wear a chador to obey the law, however women in Iran do not wear chadors in their homes; as a way around this obvious violation of law or naturalness, Panahi sends his family out of the house for the day).

This is a very nice, very clever film that not only raises post-modern issues of representation and perceived reality, but also functions as a sly attack on the monstrosity of the Iranian regime. Smuggled out of the country on a USB drive, it's amazing to me that this wouldn't be a violation of Panahi's sentence -- although it might follow the letter of the ruling, it seems to violate it at every turn and stick a thumb in the eye of the authority.

As interesting as the film is, it does lose some steam by the end, with the last 15 minutes a return to every-day life. I'm sure this is just a view into the mundaneness of life, though it feels like it's unrelated to the rest of the film and doesn't totally have any point (we see Panahi talking to the brother of the super of his building as he takes out the garbage). As much as I like the philosophical discussions that proceed this, I find this curiously boring, waiting for some greater connection to something of significance.

This is definitely a good film and possibly an important one, but it feels more like collection of scattered thoughts more than an effective essay of any sort. It is a handful of video journal entries, almost all of which are fascinating, but don't totally hold together well, as stream of consciousness frequently is wont to do. I like how this fits into the sharp naturalness of Panahi's previous work, and I think in the long run it will act as an important milestone, it just feels a bit less cohesive than it should.

Stars: 2.5 of 4

A Separation (Friday, December 30, 2011) (129)

Asghar Farhadi's A Separation begins with Nader (Peyman Moadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) in a courtroom speaking to a judge about getting a divorce. Simin wants her her husband Nader and daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi, Asghar's own daughter) to go with her but he refuses, claiming he has to take care of his elderly father in Tehran. As a result they get a separation and she stays in Tehran just the same, with the Termeh living mostly with Nader.

He is a good father, very understanding and honest and she's a very good mother. They are an upper-middle class family with a nice apartment in a nice building. To help him take care of Termeh and his father, Nader hires Razieh (Sareh Bayat) a woman who can help him keep the house and manage things. One day, when he gets very frustrated, Nader after she leaves his father in the middle of the day, he fires her and shoves her out the door rather violently.

This brings about a lawsuit about how much she was really hurt and if Nader caused her to lose the baby she was pregnant with, or if she was hurt by other means. It seems Razieh is working with a handful of lies that might protect her from her husband. Nader is a bit of a scapegoat here for other things that are happening.

The story deals a lot with issues of class and money, reminiscent of themes in films by fellow Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. It is clear that Nader and Simin are rich and more European in their tastes. Simin wears a colorful chador (either burgundy, green, lavender or blue), that seems much more liberal and design-forward than the more conservative and traditional one worn by Razieh. Simin also looks a lot more European (and gorgeous) with red hair and less Persian (I am not aware of Iranian minority groups enough to know if Razieh and her husband are from a minority group, such as the Kurds, but the possibility is certainly there). There is also the idea that the rich can do what they want to the poor, even though Nader is being accused of harm that we're almost certain he didn't cause.

Putting this all in context, it is important to be aware of the extreme attention and deference that is paid to the Iranian jurisprudential system, not only in the case of the separation proceedings at the beginning (and end), but later during the trial, when Razieh and her husband sue Nader. The judges seem to be reasonable non-idealists who are looking to do right regardless of politics. There is no criticism of the post-Revolutionary government or the rights of women or poor people. This is presented as a sober tale of lies and hidden facts. Albeit one that involves a good amount of interaction with the courts.

The writing in Farhadi's script is wonderful and all the acting is tremendous, particularly Peyman Moadi, Leila Hatami and Sarina Farhadi. They all deal with their various legal troubles differently, but totally naturally. It is wonderful to see such interesting and powerful acting, when it's not overdone or forced.

At one point near the end of the film, as Termeh talks to Nader about the legal issues they're involved in, she says, "I thought you said this wouldn't be serious," to which he snaps, "Well, it got serious." This is a beautiful and uncomfortable commentary on life and an efficient explanation of a neorealist view of this world. This is a beautiful, dispassionate film and one that explains things simply and effectively.

This is really a film about a man who is a wimp and almost totally emasculated -- not by his wife, but by his own doing. As a quick-fix for his inability to deal with issues, he is constantly scrappily doing small things to changes situations -- mostly for the worse. His wife, on the other hand is clinical and calm and efficient. This is about the choice of who we wish to believe and "life with" -- much like how Termeh has to make a similar decision. Nader is kind and loving, but makes small issues more problematic due to his tinkering; Simin is a bit cold, but calculated and correct. Both approaches can deal with and fix problems in different ways. In the end there is some truth that we're trying to excavate, and each side hopes to be seen as correct.

Stars: 4 of 4

Certified Copy (Tuesday, March 15, 2011) (15)

Abbas Kiarostami's Certified Copy is a very unusual film, despite seeming like a very natural one on the surface. It begins with an English man, James (Richard Shimmel), giving a lecture in Italy on his new book about the history and value of art fakes. As he speaks, a woman, Ellie (Juliette Binoche), stumbles into the room with her teenage son in tow. At the end of the talk she asks him to sign several copies of the book for her so she can give them to family and friends. She's an antiques dealer, and a Frenchwoman, and is aware of the value and market for fakes in her line of work. The two agree to meet the following day.

When the meet the next day they agree to get in the car and take a drive to no particular place - just go. Over the course of the day together we see that they are not actually strangers, but are a married couple rather at the end of their relationship rope (well, maybe... it's rather unclear). It seems they've been married for 15 years, live apart much of the time and fight often.

For the rest of the movie the two work over a fight they recently had and discuss who was wrong and when. The audience then has to go backwards and figure out what the game was they were playing at the beginning where they seemed to not know one another.

I have to admit that this really doesn't feel to me like a typical Kiarostami film, because it's very heavy on dialogue and very light on visual style and beauty - most of it is shot inside with cuts back and forth as a couple are talking - but it's a really interesting one (and is beautiful as anything that comes out of Kiarostami's brain would be). I think it's a clever trick from a writing point of view that the film we watch in the first act is very different from the one in the second two acts. Midway through the picture, the story changes dramatically.

I'm fascinated by the idea that this couple has a strained relationship, which manifests itself by them pretending to be strangers with one another, even when there are no witnesses around. I can't stop wondering though if they are actually somehow a pair of strangers who are playing that they are married rather than the inverse (which would help to explain problematic characters like the son who also seems to know know James). Perhaps everything up to the point of the revelation that they're married (in a cafe about two-thirds of the way through) is real and what follows is the farce.

In any event, I'm interested in the idea of copies and the deconstructed and formalist elements of the film as a copy for real life. The characters here are living their lives, but jump into a copy-life where they don't know one another (or they don't know one another and then go into a copy-life where they do). They go to a town where they were apparently married, almost a copy of their wedding day/night. They speak to each other in French or English, meaning two different things (she'll speak to him in French and he'll reply in English). Where is the reality? Where is the ground? It's really interesting.

This is a very interesting and mysterious film. Kiarostami could be saying that we are never who we really are in a relationship (even a casual flirtatious one) or that people can never be trusted, but considering nobody can be trusted, we can all agree on the relative value and importance of the relationships that are based on lies - just like how copies of great works of art have value as art themselves. It is a very post-modern concept and I appreciate that it's presented in such a standard format. Just as with a great copy, at first glance this does not seem to be such an interesting ontological examination - but it's only when you dig a bit deeper that the real nature of the piece comes out.

Stars: 3.5 of 4

No One Knows About Persian Cats (Sunday, April 25, 2010) (32)

This is a small movie about two twenty-something musicians, a man and a woman, who live in Tehran and want to get a permit from the government to perform in public and get their passports and visas so they can tour the world and play outside of their country. They are young rockers, not very different from young people in any country. They love music of all kinds and want to be able to enjoy it away from the government censors.

There is not a heck of a lot of plot in the film - basically you have the musicians trying to get their government documents and working with one musician after another to convince the authorities that they are safe and can be trusted. They work with one musician who has his visa, thinking that if they're in his band, they can get their documents too - but that doesn't work. Then they work with two women who are traditional Persian folk singers, hoping that if they have more than one female voice, the government will have less of an issue with their band. This doesn't work either.

As time goes on and they collaborate with more and more artists, they create a beautiful texture of musical and creative diversity in and around Tehran. The variety of styles is not different from what you would get in Williamsburg, Brooklyn or the Lower East Side. There is alt-indie-Rock, hip hop (in Farsi, but with a strong West Coast influence), traditional Brel-like French chanson (again in Farsi) and more straight-ahead singer-songwriter fare.

The music throughout the film is absolutely amazing. What director Bahman Ghobadi does brilliantly is to have the musicians meet their band-mates-of-the-day and start playing music, while he cuts to background, documentary footage of Tehran during the day and night. There is a quality reminiscent of Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisquatsi here where the documentary footage gets tied to the music in a way that both the visual and the audio seem almost tied together. (Since seeing the movie, I have bought the soundtrack and can say that the diverse range of music is amazing just to listen to without any visual aide.)

This whole film is as much an ode to Tehran and it's creative energy as it is a narrative story. The fact that the story has this mumblecore-like non-structure helps underline the point that this is about freedom. Not freedom in a trite political sense - but freedom to think and breath and move and create without the bureaucrats telling you what to do. This film is saying that Iran is basically the same as Brooklyn - and would be considered exactly that were it not for the current oppressive regime. But the politics here are underneath the surface - the film is really about how art has no boundaries and is non-partisan. It's a lovely tale along the lines of the 2007 film Once - but with a much stronger focus on music and less on story.

Stars: 3 of 4 (4 of 4 for the music alone)