If Iran is known for anything (in America), it’s not film.
Rather, our common assumptions are derived from the numerous sound bytes we receive from Western news outlets – reports of Iran’s emerging nuclear program, stories of Iran’s conflict with neighboring states, and accounts of various abuses midst the theocratic rule.
Herein lies the beauty of foreign films – we get a different window, one that’s built from within foreign borders, one that tells another story.
A Separation, arguably Iran’s most prominent and acclaimed film to date, assumes this role in more ways than one. In the film, the Western world witnesses an Iranian culture contrary to our presumptions, the state of Iran receives a story that it wishes was different, and the narrative itself revolves around the reality of opposing story lines.
Set in the capital city of Tehran, the film opens with a husband and wife facing an Iranian judge – a role that writer and director Asghar Farhadi subtly suggests is occupied by the viewer – shooting the entire scene from the (unseen) judge’s perspective. The couple is before the court attempting to settle a domestic dispute about whether or not they should leave Iran (the aspect of the film that the Iranian state is not thrilled about). The wife, Simin (Leila Hatami), wishes to pursue greater opportunities for herself, their daughter, and women in general. Nader (Peyman Moaadi) refuses to leave due to his ailing father’s bout with Althzeimers – an easy excuse in lieu of the unspoken, yet apparent, resentment that have seemingly plagued their marriage.
The result is a separation that is eerily familiar to western culture.
While the prospect of divorce looms, the realities of life resume. Simin moves out while Nader and their 11 year-old daughter, Termeh (Sarina Farhadi, Asghar Farhadi’s actual daughter), remain in their middle-class home with Nader’s father. Additional help is needed to care for the father while Nader is at work. A woman, Razieh (Sareh Bayat), is hired from a poor neighborhood, and while this seems like a hopeful solution, it only complicates matters. Through a complex series of unfortunate events, an embittered conflict arises between Razieh and Nader’s families that eventually lands both entities in front of the courts with adverse testimonies.
This is where the titles namesake permeates the script. A “separation” is not only the narrative of Nader and Simin’s marriage, but we see its presence within class distinction, government rule, and religious differences, all of which can easily be mistaken as distinctively “Iranian”. However, Farhardi has crafted a story that eventually breaks any remaining cultural barriers that might exist within the West. Brokenness is brokenness, and the pursuit of justice and grace is an innate reality that we are all pursuing, whether poor, wealthy, Muslim, or Christian (the latter of which is not referenced in the film).
The prominence of the Islamic faith throughout the movie is worth mentioning. Razieh is a devout and committed Muslim – unyielding in any moral decisions that might compromise her faith and/or standing with God. Nader’s (and Simin’s) story seems to be one of indifference – faith is only convenient and relevant for moral law and code. Theological questions emerge when the climax of the story seemingly hinges on whether or not Razieh can and will swear on the Q’ran about an accusation.
What purpose does Scripture serve in legal settlements? Should it serve a purpose at all? Is there a circumstance in which you’d lie (upon Scripture) in order to protect your family? If you partake in such a lie, does God punish you for the sin afterward?
While Farhardi certainly gives space to these questions, he is not looking for the answers. A Separation is more an acknowledgement that theological matters complicate our daily lives.
In fact, the complexity of life seems to be a continual focus of the film. In many ways, it’s not the obvious action or drama that drives the story’s tension, It’s the inevitability of the mundane. Through suggestive imagery and patient dialogue, Farhardi focuses intently on the ordinary moments.
Time is devoted to the harsh realities of home health care, to the parental responsibilities that are frequently shoved aside, and to the quiet moments of internal uncertainty. The latter of which is most poignantly dealt with through the relationship of the daughters of the respective families, Termeh and Somayeh (Kimia Hosseini), Razieh’s daughter. While there are very few words exchanged between the two, it is the quiet moments and shared stares that suggest something beyond the film’s dialogue. We begin to see that in spite of conflict and differences, there is a mutual longing for peace and restoration regardless of our class, conflict, or locale.
A Separation is undoubtedly worthy of it’s recent Oscar win (Best Foreign Picture) and arguably the top “dysfunctional family” film of the year. While I have no real means of knowing whether or not this is an adequate representation of Iranian culture, it certainly provides a new window and tells a story that you won’t hear on CNN – one that might be a bit more familiar than you’d think.
(A Separation is still playing in a few select theaters across the county and is expected to release on DVD later this month.)
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Bob Davidson, who received a Masters of Theology from Fuller, is the Creative Producer at Rule29 and co-founder of Project rednoW, an exploration in the art of wonder through film, music, and theology.