The London Film Festival 2014 Diary#3

ديپلم (دي‌يِدو همادي، كنگو): مستندي فردريك وايزمن‌وار دربارۀ امتحان سراسري براي دريافت ديپلم در كنگو كه به دلايلي قابل حدس كابوس بسياري از دانش‌آموزان است، اما جذاب‌ترين بخش فيلم با تمركز روي آن مسائلي شكل گرفته كه چندان قابل حدس زدن نيستند و شباهتي به آزمون‌هايي كه ما مي‌شناسيم ندارند. اين حوادث فيلم را كمابيش به سه بخش تقسيم كرده‌اند: در بخش اول دانش‌آموزاني را مي‌بينيم كه به خاطر عدم پرداخت شهريه اجازه ندارند در آزمون ديپلم (كه تقريباً مثل كنكور است) شركت كنند. به علاوه كمي دربارۀ وضعيت آشفته سيستم آموزشي كنگو مي‌بينيم كه شامل تدريس بد و كلاس‌هاي داغان مي‌شود. در بخش دوم گروهي از دانش‌آموزان بي‌پول كه مي‌خواهند به هر قيمتي ديپلم بگيرند بنايي نيمه‌كاره را اجازه مي‌كنند و آن را به فضايي براي درس خواندن، كلاس و خواب تبديل مي‌كنند. اما در همين بخش مي‌بينيم كه خرافات هنوز نقش مهمي در دنياي آن‌ها بازي مي‌كند و براي ديپلم گرفتن از ماليدن معجون معجزه‌گر به سرشان تا غسل تعميد دادن خودكارهايي كه بايد با آن‌ها امتحان بدهند و حتي يك مراسم تقريباً جن‌گيري غافل نمي‌شوند. بلاخره يك كسي كه همين مراحل را پشت سر گذاشته و حالا دانشجوست مي‌گويد كه اصلاً بدون تقلب شانسي براي قبول شدن وجود ندارد، بنابراين همه شروع مي‌كنند به آماده كردن تقلب‌هايشان براي روز آزمون. بخش سوم فيلم كه از نظر اجرا بهترين بخش فيلم است به نحوۀ برگزاري امتحان و اعلام نتايج مي‌پردازد. فيلم با جشن ديوانه‌وار مردم بعد از اعلام قبولي‌ها كه شامل بوق‌زني و رقص در خيابان‌هاي كيسانگاني - شهر محل وقوع داستان - مي‌شود به پايان مي‌رسد. كوچك، اما فراموش نشدني.

A Tribute to Parviz Davaie

Parviz Davaie

I'm honored to publish this personal, intimate portrait of Iranian author and film critic Parviz Davaie on my blog, not only because it gives insights about the man whose work I've always admired, but also because it is written by no one but his old friend and collaborator, and another pioneer of (modern) film criticism in Iran, Kiomars Vejdani.

PARVIZ  DAVAIE: A TRIBUTE
By Kiomars Vejdani

"Davaie speaking." His voice at the end of the phone was my first contact with Davaie for over fifty years. It had not changed a lot. The same soft tone reflecting his gentle nature. For the first few moments he was formal, serious, and rather reserved. But soon as he found out the identity of the speaker the formality gave way to unreserved warmth and welcoming friendliness. Exactly the sort of response I was hoping for.

A Setareh Cinema cover from November, 1966

Since moving away to England I have now and then been thinking about my period of work at Setareh Cinema and  happy memories among my friends there. The wish to contact them was always there. When I found out that Davaie is living in Prague that wish turned into decision. Getting his address from a mutual friend I wrote him a letter not hoping to receive an answer after all these years. Contrary to my expectation shortly afterwards I received a long letter from him. Loyal as ever he was pleased to hear from me. His letter gave me the encouragement for further contact. Shortly afterwards as I was making a journey to Prague I thought I could take this opportunity to pay him a visit. Hence the purpose of my phone call.

We arranged to meet the next day at eleven in the morning at the central square by the clock tower. (suggested by him as a place in Prague familiar to and easily found by tourists and visitors.) Next morning I was at the site a short while before the appointed time, looking in every direction for Davaie not quite knowing how he looks like after all these years (by then I had not yet seen his recent photos on the internet).

There was an element of  Hitchcockian suspense as I was looking at any approaching stranger wondering  with anticipation. Then at exactly eleven o'clock he was there (Davaie was always well known for his punctuality.) The same tall slim figure and handsome features. But the passage of time had turned his raven black hair into snow white, matched by equally white eyebrows and now an added becoming beard. He had aged. (Time does not stop for anyone.) His long black coat completed his dignified image of a writer and a  poet.

Unless it was my imagination his skin looked a shade darker. But he certainly looked thinner than his younger days. (Unlike me who has gained weight with advanced age.) We tentatively approached each other. His reaction to my first few words was total amazement.  "But you can speak Farsi!" Apparently in my letter I had given him the impression that I had completely forgotten my native language which is almost true. My command of Persian language is very basic and nothing like the days gone by. Nevertheless with a mixture of English and broken Farsi I managed to communicate with him. We talked about cinema, life,  our past, and everything under the sun. Within less than an hour it felt as if we had never been separated. For we had a good deal in common. We were more or less the same age (born in 1935و he was three years my senior.) We were both born in Tehran and spent our childhood and youth in that city. And above all cinema was the love of our lives.

The Boot [Chakmeh] (1993)

From my programme notes, written in 2014, for theatrical release of the film in the UK. -- E.K.

Seven years before the release of Mohammad Ali Talebi’s The Boot, the film which first brought him to international attention, he directed a puppet road movie, in which a gang of young mice unite against a vicious cat, whom their parents have given up hope of defeating. In The Boot it is real children who are fighting against the odds – and rather than a vicious cat, it is the crowded capital of Iran, Tehran, which threatens to overwhelm them.

Most of Talebi’s films about children feature an absent parent or two. In this case, young Samaneh’s father has died. In a shoe store, where the girl’s mother stares longingly at a happy couple shopping together, the gaze not only underlines the absence of her husband, but also the absence of a father figure in Samaneh’s life. Talebi’s interest lies in showing how children manage to fill that void.
 
Samaneh is a war child. The film was produced by Shahed TV (which translates as Martyr’s TV) whose remit was to depict the lives of those who lost family members during the eight-year war with Iraq. The heavy burden on children born during the war is subtly manifested throughout the film; particularly in one scene which takes place on a public bus, when a young boy is seen guiding an elderly blind man. These children, through pure curiosity, resilience and stubbornness are unconsciously reconstructing a damaged country.

The London Film Festival 2014 Diary#2: Women Films

مامان (زاويه دولان، كانادا): دولان اميد تازه سينماي فرانسه زبان است و صورت‌اش كه براي مجله‌هاي مد هم كارآيي دارد تازه روي جلد شماره اكتبر كايه دوسينما جا خوش كرده. اما مامان كه مي‌توان آن را امتداد مضامين اولين فيلم بلند دولان، مادرم را كشتم (2009)، دانست، يك عقب‌گرد براي فيلمساز 25 ساله محسوب مي‌شود و دنياي هيستريك دولان با زنان قوي و جذابش و قاب سينمايي مضحك ( با نسبت يك به يك) به اپيزودي از سريالي آبكي شبيه است. اما اگر از آن طرف فرانسوا ازن اساساً بي‌استعداد با دوست دختر تازه يكي از نمايندگان سينماي فرانسه زبان شده باشد، عجيب نيست كه ببينيم فرانسوي‌ها تا اين اندازه از بال و پر گرفتن دولان سر ذوق آمده‌اند. 

Film Architecture As Texture: Yoshinobu Nishioka

http://cinearchitecture.tumblr.com/post/116016591637/film-architecture-as-texture-yoshinobu-nishiokas

Hockney (Randall Wright, 2014)

هاكني (رندال رايت، بريتانيا): ديويد هاكني نقاش استخرهاي كاليفرنيايي، مَرغزارهاي يوركشاير و پرترۀ آدم‌هاي نشسته روي صندلي است. او كه از خانواده‌اي فقير از برادفورد در شمال انگليس آمده، يكي از مهم‌ترين آرتيست‌هاي بريتانيايي نيم قرن اخير محسوب مي‌شود. اين مستند كه كيفيت بصري خوبي دارد و دسترسي‌اش به تصاوير آرشيوي و فيلم‌هاي خصوصي هاكني محدود نبوده فرصتي است براي درك و دريافت نقاش هفتاد و هفت ساله. با آن‌كه فيلم مسائلي كه خودش طرح مي‌كند را بي‌جواب مي‌گذارد (مثلاً از اهميت پيكاسو براي هاكني مي‌گويد، اما هرگز نمي‌گويد چرا، چطور و تا كجا)، اما به جايش تصويري از دنياي آشيائي كه يك هنرمند را احاطه كرده‌اند مي‌دهد: قوري و فنجان‌هاي چيني روي ميز، هارپسيكورد كنار ديوار، عروسك خرسي غول‌پيكر، دوربين پولارويد، گلدان‌هاي ساده و بي‌طرح. 

The London Film Festival 2014 Diary#1

خاوخا [Jauja] (ليساندرو آلونسو، آرژانتين/هلند/آمريكا): اين فيلم كه از قاب‌هايي با نسبت آكادمي و نماهاي ثابت از چشم‌اندازهاي آرژانتين تشكيل شده مهندسي دانماركي با بازي ويگو مورتنستن را نشان مي‌دهد كه بعد از فرار دخترش با سربازي آرژانتيني به جستجوي او مي‌رود و مثل جويندگان، جستجوي دختر به سيري در تقابل بين مهاجمان و ساكنان بومي آن سرزمين بدل مي‌شود.

غار [La Cueva] (آلفردو مونترو، اسپانيا): نمونه‌اي قابل پيش‌بيني از سينماي «موبايلي» كه مثل يك «سلفيِ» نود دقيقه‌اي است و در آن تمام كليشه‌هاي ساب‌ژانر Found footage، مثل پروژۀ جادوگر بلر، در يك غار تكرار مي‌شوند.

Métamorphoses (Christophe Honoré, 2014)

دگرديسي [Métamorphoses] (كريستف اونوره، فرانسه): فيلم‌هايي كه در آن دنياي افسانه‌اي يا اسطوره‌اي در دل دنياي روزمرگي‌ها جا گرفته و فانتزي و وحشت جزيي از اتاق نشيمن شده نه تنها در سينماي تجاري به يك جريان بدل شده، بلكه در سينماي جشنواره‌اي هم احياء شده است. مثلاً در همين فستيوال، بهار (جاستين بِنسُن، آمريكا/ايتاليا)، دختري ايتاليايي را در لباس آدمي عادي به نيروي ويرانگر و يك هيولا مبدل كرده. در فيلمي ديگر، Musarañas (خوانفر آندرِس و استبان روئِل، اسپانيا)، تهيه شده توسط الكس دلا ايگلسياس، زني خياط و خانه‌نشين از هر اهريمني مخرب‌تر است. در هر دو نمونه، تاريخ و مذهب به شدت‌هاي مختلف نقش دارند. هر دو فيلم در هر جايي به كاريكاتور نزديك مي‌شوند، يكي آگاهانه (Musarañas) و يكي از سر ندانم‌كاري (بهار). اما نمونه بهتر چنين سينمايي دگرديسي است كه اين ايده را طرح مي‌كند كه شخصيت‌‌هاي اسطوره‌اي مي‌توانند پشت سوپرماركت غول‌آساي منطقه‌تان پنهان شده باشند. منطق اين فيلم كه شخصيت‌هاي اساطيري را به دنياي معاصر آورده و در فضايي اروتيك به مواجهه و تعامل واداشته چنين است. مثل يك فيلم ژان كوكتوست كه براي جوانان امروزي ساخته شده باشد و قصدش آشتي دادن دنياي اسطوره‌اي با دنياي شهرت‌هاي مجازيِ قرن بيست و يكم است. در فيلم چند سكانس خارق‌العاده وجود دارد كه رنگ و بويي موزيكال دارند و تصويرسازي‌هاي بعضي جاها نفس‌گير است، اما در مجموع تأثير اين لحظات پراكنده آن‌قدر نيست كه فيلم را از حد متوسط فراتر ببرد. دنيايي جادويي اسطوره‌هاي – چه در شكل ظريف كوكتويي و چه در شكل حماسي/اكشن سينماي ماسيستي ايتاليا – اين جا چندان جادويي ندارد.

Paris par Marker

http://cinearchitecture.tumblr.com/post/115467739562/paris-in-le-joli-mai-1963-directed-by-chris

Bag of Rice (1998)

From my programme notes for the Cinema of Childhood season in the UK, April 2014.

Bag of Rice [Kiseye Berendj] Director: Mohammad Ali Talebi.
Iran, 1998. With Jairan Abadzade. 80 mins. Cert. U.

The moment that Jeyran, the unflagging young protagonist of Bag of Rice, sets out on her urban odyssey across south Tehran with her partially-sighted neighbour Masoumeh Khanoom, two children – one of whom is lugging a gas cylinder with difficulty– are seen walking towards the camera. The scene takes place in a narrow, brick-walled alley; it is representative of director Mohammad Ali Talebi’s film style and contains the essence of his view of the lives of children in his home city. It expresses the responsibilities, or rather the burdens, that their circumstances demand they bear, and which force them to mature early in their lives. Children in Talebi’s films, especially in Bag of Rice, are not guided by adults, but rather they are the guiding force through the unexpected surprises of everyday life, on journeys of self-determination.

This perspective on youth in Tehran is found not only in the cinema of Talebi, but also in other films produced by the Institute for Intellectual Education of Children and Young Adults – where Talebi and numerous contemporaries, including Abbas Kiarostami, started out as working directors. It is an outlook that owes much to the second “author” of the film, screenwriter Houshang Moradi-Kermani, the leading proponent of literature focusing on children and teenagers in Iran.