Defining Iranian Cinema

Raffi Pitts' The Hunter

Three years ago, I watched an Iranian film called The Hunter at TIFF. It is directed by Rafi Pitts, whose face you'll recognize if you've seen Ben Affleck's Argo. Predictably, a significant number of the patrons were Iranian and everyone was sounding off on the film in one way or another after the screening. I fell for the film and its unfamiliar brand of coolly stylized action thriller, so much so that I included it in my top ten list of 2010. After the film I ran into an obnoxiously loud, young, Iranian man and his equally opinionated father who had both hated everything about the film, chiefly because "it didn't show anything about what's wrong with the Iranian government these days" and "it wasn't representative of the Iranian society." With regards to The Hunter, specifically, I disagree with both of those criticisms, but that's beside the point I want to make here: Iranian filmmakers have long been burdened with the responsibility to make their films Iranian.

I'm bringing this up because Hamid Dabashi, the respected author of two essential books on Iranian cinema (Masters and Masterpieces of Iranian Cinema and Close-up: Iranian Cinema, Past, Present, Future) has written a confusing and borderline offensive article on the status quo of Iranian films that has me scratching my head, looking for explanations. Normally, I'd let a column like that slide, but I need to discuss Mr. Dabashi's text because a) it has genuinely angered me and b) I must write about Tina Hassannia's brilliant response to it.

The gist of Mr. Dabashi's piece is that there's a dearth of talent in Iranian cinema because of the brain drain phenomenon, but also that filmmakers who fight against government censorship by producing their films abroad or underground in Iran have lost touch with their brilliance and Iranian identity of old. Quite what that Iranian identity means is neither properly explained, nor justified — as Tina succinctly puts it, it seems to be "some holy, magical, Dabashi-imagined space in which they can make truly innovative Iranian works."

Essential Performances of the 90s: Part 1

Andrew of the amazing blog Encore Entertainment has started a series called Essential Performances of the 90s Showdown wherein he and guest bloggers pit two performances from the decade against each other, making a case for which is better or more important. I had the pleasure of being invited to participate and my first contribution - there is more to come - was a contest between Kate Winslet from that little-seen gem called Titanic and Iran's most recognizeable actor, Homayoun Ershadi, in his debut performance in Abbas Kiarostami's Palme d'or winning Taste of Cherry. You can read my commentary, chime in with your thoughts and vote here.

 

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Monday's Words of Wisdom

"My car's my best friend. My office. My home. My location. I have a very intimate sense when I am in a car with someone next to me. We're in the most comfortable seats because we're not facing each other, but sitting side by side. We don't look at each other, but instead do so only when we want to. We're allowed to look around without appearing rude. We have a big screen in front of us and side views. Silence doesn't seem heavy or difficult. Nobody serves anybody. And many other aspects. One most important thing is that it transports us from one place to another."

- Abbas Kiarostami, on his relationship with cars and why they feature so prominently in most of his films