2011’s A Separation,
written and directed by Asghar Farhadi.
Starring Peyman Moaadi, Leila Hatami, Sarina Farhadi, Sareh
Bayat, Shahab Hosseini, Ali-Asghar Shahbazi, Shirin Yazdanbakhsh, Merila Zarei,
and Babak Karimi.
Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay (Asghar Farhadi) and Best Foreign Film.
Winner of an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film.
What is it about?
Based in Iran, mother and wife Simin (Leila Hatami), wishes
to divorce her husband, Nadir (Peyman Moaadi). Disagreeing with their nation’s
patriarchal and religious views, she wants to leave the country and take their
daughter, Termeh (Sarina Farhadi). Focused on taking care of his Alzheimer’s
afflicted father, Nadir refuses to leave, so he and Termeh hire distant friend
and devoutly religious, Razieh (Sareh Bayat), to look after him. Razieh’s
husband, Hojjat (Shahab Hosseini ), beset with debt obligations and devoutly
religious, is not to know that Razieh has a job caring for a man, and the
separation process becomes very complicated for Simin and Nadir. Because of their
country’s legal laws and religious norms, a series of misunderstandings,
tragedies, and lies threaten to further tear the family apart.
Why is it worth seeing?
Due to censorship efforts by its government, Iran can be a
puzzle when it comes to cinematically depicting everyday life for its citizens.
Director Asghar Farhadi was victim to his government’s efforts when his film was
briefly banned,
allegedly for Farhadi’s support of other lightning rod Iranian film makers. All
of this is to say that A Separation
is a blessing in that it actually came to be.
A loose Iranian version of Kramer vs. Kramer, if there is a film that better depicts (more or less) middle class life (and class struggles) in contemporary Iran, I don’t know of it. Writer/Producer/Director Asghar Farhadi’s camera goes straight into an apartment (and many bureaucratic offices) teeming with life, and the decision to keep scenes handheld gives a vague sensation of sensory overload, a feeling that one can never quite settle amidst life’s never ending changes.
Relationships, and all the inherent messiness that comes from coupling, are complicated (and that’s before children are added to the equation). But how does one reconcile that when those dynamics are contrasted with the cultural and religious views of a nation, and with its laws? As the film’s characters grapple with that- with intent, respect, disrespect, anger, calm, and bewilderment- it becomes clear that the movie’s title is not just about a family breaking apart, but indeed a nation’s views and institutions being separate from those of its citizens.
Farhadi’s script, rightly celebrated, has just the right amount of conversation to ping pong back and forth. At times, the film is quietly reverent of its characters’ motives and domesticity, and in others it resembles a ferocious debate in which the moderator has lost all control. It’s a fascinating view of a culture in which overworked judges decide things such as murder and divorce- but with no lawyers to represent the parties. The end results are as fiery and desperate as you would expect, given the consequences if implicated. While Ferhadi’s story is intensely focused on the results of the proceedings, in the background it asks what our children think of us when they learn that we don’t always keep our word- and the realization that we are no longer gods to them.
No matter the skills involved in the filmmaking (and they’re considerable), what’s irrevocable is the fact that in divorce, the child usually loses. Here, it’s incredible, the pressure that is put on the adolescent character- torn between choosing a feuding parent’s side, helping support her family, focusing on her studies, and just being a teenager. You’d think any culture touting the values of family, togetherness, and honesty would have less cognitive dissonance.
Not always fun, but always interesting and sometimes fiery, A Separation has a lot to unpack in its run time, and its closing shot confirms that the chasms that separate people formerly connected can be both wide and blurry. Its only flaw is that it leaves its female protagonist largely in the shadows- but that only authenticates her motivations for wanting to leave in the first place.
A loose Iranian version of Kramer vs. Kramer, if there is a film that better depicts (more or less) middle class life (and class struggles) in contemporary Iran, I don’t know of it. Writer/Producer/Director Asghar Farhadi’s camera goes straight into an apartment (and many bureaucratic offices) teeming with life, and the decision to keep scenes handheld gives a vague sensation of sensory overload, a feeling that one can never quite settle amidst life’s never ending changes.
Relationships, and all the inherent messiness that comes from coupling, are complicated (and that’s before children are added to the equation). But how does one reconcile that when those dynamics are contrasted with the cultural and religious views of a nation, and with its laws? As the film’s characters grapple with that- with intent, respect, disrespect, anger, calm, and bewilderment- it becomes clear that the movie’s title is not just about a family breaking apart, but indeed a nation’s views and institutions being separate from those of its citizens.
Farhadi’s script, rightly celebrated, has just the right amount of conversation to ping pong back and forth. At times, the film is quietly reverent of its characters’ motives and domesticity, and in others it resembles a ferocious debate in which the moderator has lost all control. It’s a fascinating view of a culture in which overworked judges decide things such as murder and divorce- but with no lawyers to represent the parties. The end results are as fiery and desperate as you would expect, given the consequences if implicated. While Ferhadi’s story is intensely focused on the results of the proceedings, in the background it asks what our children think of us when they learn that we don’t always keep our word- and the realization that we are no longer gods to them.
No matter the skills involved in the filmmaking (and they’re considerable), what’s irrevocable is the fact that in divorce, the child usually loses. Here, it’s incredible, the pressure that is put on the adolescent character- torn between choosing a feuding parent’s side, helping support her family, focusing on her studies, and just being a teenager. You’d think any culture touting the values of family, togetherness, and honesty would have less cognitive dissonance.
Not always fun, but always interesting and sometimes fiery, A Separation has a lot to unpack in its run time, and its closing shot confirms that the chasms that separate people formerly connected can be both wide and blurry. Its only flaw is that it leaves its female protagonist largely in the shadows- but that only authenticates her motivations for wanting to leave in the first place.
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