(Iranian, 2 hrs & 3 min, color, 2011)
There are many who
maintain, and I am one of them, that the best way for most people to learn
about history is through stories – stories that have authentic historical
settings, with either fictional characters or factual ones who have been
fictionalized. They will retain much
more about a place and time that way than from reading history books and
commentaries about the period under consideration. A good story teller is worth more to the
average person than a scholar. That is
also true, I believe, of current conditions that are making history. And that is especially true of stories
dramatized on the screen. A motion
picture can put us under the skin of people subject to a society or an element
of a society – more so than a dozen or more documentaries.
In that regard, I highly
recommend “A Separation,” an Iranian production released in 2011, to anyone who
wishes to get some insight into that nation’s current culture and mores. When we think of that part of the globe, our
western minds envision suicide bombers, civil wars, oppressive dictatorships,
war lords, militias, tribal tensions and violent revolutions. More specifically, mention of Iran triggers
thoughts and concerns about nuclear development and that government’s adamant
determination to keep on defying world opinion in the further enrichment of
uranium. Well, none of these kinds of things are portrayed or even referred to
in the film. There is not even a
reference to government or figures of state.
No military or political activity is portrayed anywhere in the
footage. We simply visit with two
families in Tehran who become interlocked in a very complicated and fractious
dilemma. But the current state of affairs
in that nation is made quite palpable during those gripping two hours. These peoples’ struggle speaks volumes about
the soul and mindset of its citizens, the fabric of life as they live it, and
the values that are inculcated into the mainstream of thought and
behavior.
The movie opens with a
husband and wife seated side by side and facing the camera. They are contesting in front of an unseen
magistrate. She wants a divorce. Why?
Because of his cruelty? No, she
claims he is a very decent and loving man.
Because he has failed to provide for her? No, nothing like that! He is gainfully employed in a bank. Because of drug addiction or the like? No!
She is protesting because he refuses to leave the country with her,
after they have allegedly been planning the move for a long time and have
already secured a visa that is due to expire in forty days. Why does he refuse to leave? Because he has a father with Alzheimer’s and
he thinks he has to take care of the old man!
She accuses him of indifference to the welfare of their eleven-year-old
girl, preferring the welfare of his father to the care of his wife and
child. What the wife finally has to
accept is that no Iranian divorce or separation can be sanctioned by the court
without the husband’s approval, nor can the child be taken from the country
without it. The unseen judge finally
declares that theirs is a small problem, not one justifying divorce action or
the court’s further time.
That on the surface sounds
clear enough, and maybe fair enough. But
in the hailstorm of words that are exchanged between the couple, overlapping
each other at many points, she blurts out that she cannot leave her daughter
“in these circumstances.” When the judge
asks her “what circumstances,” she does not reply. She appears embarrassed by having said
it. But her evasion of the probing question
is understandable enough to any audience in any society in the global
village. She wants to escape the tyranny
of the Islamic state in which she feels trapped. That unspoken, implied longing remains
unspoken throughout the movie, but that is what drives everything that
transpires in the following two hours.
The girl elects for no
apparent reason (at first) to stay with her father, and the mother, unwilling
to emigrate without her daughter, remains in the city but moves out of the home and in with her
parents. This necessitates the husband
hiring a caregiver for his helpless father while he is at work, a function the
wife has previously served. The lower
class woman he hires (he an upper middle class citizen) turns out to be immense
trouble from day one, and it is she, a devout and well-meaning Muslim, around
whom the plight of Middle East women is most vividly demonstrated in the
scenario. I will not relate any more of
the plot, except to say that a circuitous chain of cause and effect is set in
motion that sweeps two families up into a firestorm of accusation,
intimidation, litigation, lies, half-truths, dishonor, and personal injury,
both to body and individual dignity.
Before the drama plays out,
we westerners get fresh insight into how religious stricture and the domination
of male hubris in a society holds peoples’ consciences captive and pays out
enormous forfeitures far beyond the bounds of compassion or even
rationality. What it finally comes down
to is the impact of all this clamor and deadly dealing upon the children
involved.
This is the sort of movie
in which we are inundated with mixed feelings about the many characters. All the adults are shifty and irrational one
moment, and the next moment they evidence humanity and affection for each
other. There is a virtuous strain in
each and every one striving to be seen and heard but doing battle with fear,
pride, anger and intimidation. And yet
we identify with them to whatever extent our living conditions bear any
likeness at all to theirs. At least one out of four Americans has encountered
the crisis of separation and divorce in some manner, and we have all been
affected by somebody’s injustice, if not our own, as well as the sometimes
blurry line between truth and falsehood.
The film has won wide
acclaim, including this past spring an Oscar for Best Foreign Film, and an
Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay, in addition to a slew of
international awards at film festivals and inclusions on a sizeable number of
ten-best lists. Leila Hatami and Peyman
Moaadi, who play the contending parents, won the lead acting awards at the
Berlin Film Festival, and Writer/Director Asghar Farhadi received the Directing
award, along with other recognitions by various critics’ societies here and
abroad. Whatever impression any of us
may have of the nation of Iran, the presence of top grade cinematic artistry
inside those borders is now beyond dispute.
It should not be surprising that Farhadi got no government support in
the production of the film. He had to
call on private sources for financing.
The language spoken is
Farsi. But the subtitling, like the
production overall, is top grade.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com
I welcome feedback. Direct it to bobracine@verizon.net
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