Kudos to Iranian Cinema

I, for the most part, am used to watching foreign films. They open up an incredible world of cinema that one would otherwise miss. Since it was my first venture into Iranian cinema, I was a little unsure of what to expect. In fact, as I watched Majid Majidi’s Children of Heaven and The Color of Paradise, I found myself processing through certain stereotypes that I had regarding the country of Iran. I had always imagined it as a desert with black mounds and oil wells, a dry place with caravans of camels. But after seeing both movies’ breathtaking sceneries – from dense forests to fields of colorful flowers – I was absolutely surprised. And I’m sure no one who hasn’t been to Iran has any idea at all that it is this beautiful.

Besides the spectacular imagery in both Majidi’s films, the dominant theme also threw me for a loop. Prior to seeing any Iranian cinema, I thought it was just a chock full of social commentary, making Iran nothing but a place where reform movements, revolutions, and embassy seizing take place. There might be some degree of critique present in both movies, yes, but I was impressed by how Majidi was able to demonstrate weighty ideas through simple depictions of everyday life in Iran. Children of Heaven, for example, brilliantly demonstrates the difference between social classes, the gap between the rich and the poor. Apparently, there is so much in Western civilization that most of us usually take for granted. What to us are simple daily belongings, to others can already mean a lifetime. Yes, centering on a boy’s quest to find his sister’s pair of shoes may seem a bit insubstantial and pointless, but the very means by which he did it truly matters more. It’s just heartening to see young children who are polite and respectful to their elders, at the same time responsible and caring in dealing with their everyday problems. Such quiet fortitude in spite of disappointments, such code of honor even in poverty, is just so admirable that it is enough to make one realize that there is actually more to life than just pursuing material riches. The Color of Paradise, on the one hand, strongly focuses on a story that delves into the dark side of human nature (depicted in the person of Hashem, the father) without too much utilization of, unlike those that are predominant in the movies from the west, any morally offensive material. It depicts how economic hardship can be so extreme that it can always be a living possibility to sacrifice and give up one’s own child just to serve another need or purpose. This circumstance introduces us a journey into the world in which majority of us live but don’t often see. It left me wondering about this: who, in this world, are actually blind? Given the blind boy’s hope, determination and inherently good nature, it seems that the father is way blinder than his visually impaired son. He failed to recognize the bounties of grace still present amidst hardships; he failed to notice the worth of having such a good and loving child by his side. By just looking at the journey of Mohammad, you can already draw out meaningful lessons about how you should face your own life. Mohammad shows us that it is still possible to feel the works of God's hand, even if one can't see the color of paradise.

As you can see, Iranian filmmakers often focus on ordinary people caught in harsh circumstances brought about by social, cultural or natural factors. Powerful subjects – from hardships heaped on the poor to prejudices faced by the disabled – are often addressed not with an easy “sloganeering” but with real insights that will drive us into a realization that now it’s the time to exercise compassion for others, especially to those who are vulnerable, to those who are most in need. 

Both movies are so sweet and loving, but most of all, they are honest. Unlike most western films I have already seen, Iranian films seem to be more open, more brutally honest, about their pain and frustrations. And sometimes this is just the key to be able to create a film of great relevance, of great impact, locally and, yes, internationally. True enough, Iranian filmmakers find success through their expertise in drawing virtues out of constraints. Couple that with almost flawless acting from the characters they feature in their story plots, I guess it would really be harder to compare Iranian films with anything else in its league. Again, characters and their lives are simple but very believable; allowing the audience to appreciate life more, and to make a good case for doing so.

Children of Heaven and The Color of Paradise are both played with such beauty and innocence, with great simplicity and soul, that it became a true pleasure to watch. In the very best of Iranian films, this combination of artful simplicity and subtle suggestiveness moves to refine our notions of the cinema’s expressive possibilities. I love how I found my own brand of spirituality in films like these – so full of faith, love and compassion, and above all, hope. Kudos to Iranian cinema!

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Paper on Iranian Cinema, Film Class in Ateneo de Manila University