Jul. 18th, 2013 11:02 am
Women and men and soccer
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muckefuckSaw Jafar Panāhī's آفساید (Offside) last night, and even if I wasn't as taken with it as some critics were, I found it engrossing and rewarding. I am a bit surprised to find it made several top ten lists for 2007. I so rarely watch films as they come out any more, I just don't know--was that a really lame year or something? Not that it's in any way bad, but if fewer than ten films in a typical year can meet the same standard, then doom-laden voices about the death of cinema must be spot on.
I'm even more impressed with backstory than the final project. First, that it was actually shot at the World Cup qualifying match that it depicts. (The Guardian claims that Panāhī had an alternative ending planned out in case Iran failed to advance, but I found another interview where he says he really didn't. I can't even imagine the tension of that shoot.) Second, that it's based on the experiences of the director's own daughter. And, third, the "actors" are all first-timers, really? By all rights, Šāyistah Īrānī (a.k.a. "smoking girl") should have an amazing career ahead of her.
One difficulty I had with it was reading the tone. The women are so casually defiant, and the young military men so inept at keeping them in line, that it resembles farce. But is this an amusing exaggeration or is the reality simply this farcical? I don't have enough information about daily life in Iran to judge. I was particularly struck by how little respect is shown the officers. Is that the kind of contempt that mass conscription inspires?
I was also struck by the demonstrations of affection between men. Although I welcome LGBT emancipation everywhere, one of the sad consequences of the homophobic reaction to it is the demise of displays of tenderness between straight men. When Iran wins the game, a solider kisses his superior--and not for the first time in the film either. It's not played for laughs; there's no hint of gay panic. It's as natural a reaction as yelling out the window or setting off firecrackers.
It also makes me wish I had enough competence in Persian to be able to discern accents (I understood only "Zūd bāš!") and enough knowledge of Iranian regional stereotypes to know how much they're playing to them or playing against them. The three soldiers with the most onscreen time are distinguished by their origins: the Mašhadī is most concerned with the game, the Tehrānī with his girlfriend, and the Tabrīzī with his cattle. The women's origins are more diverse; Smoking Girl tells the Tabrīzī he can trust one of the others "because she's Tehrānī", which sounds ironic because it is pretty much the exact opposite of how I expect natives of the Metropolis to be characterised anywhere.
I'm even more impressed with backstory than the final project. First, that it was actually shot at the World Cup qualifying match that it depicts. (The Guardian claims that Panāhī had an alternative ending planned out in case Iran failed to advance, but I found another interview where he says he really didn't. I can't even imagine the tension of that shoot.) Second, that it's based on the experiences of the director's own daughter. And, third, the "actors" are all first-timers, really? By all rights, Šāyistah Īrānī (a.k.a. "smoking girl") should have an amazing career ahead of her.
One difficulty I had with it was reading the tone. The women are so casually defiant, and the young military men so inept at keeping them in line, that it resembles farce. But is this an amusing exaggeration or is the reality simply this farcical? I don't have enough information about daily life in Iran to judge. I was particularly struck by how little respect is shown the officers. Is that the kind of contempt that mass conscription inspires?
I was also struck by the demonstrations of affection between men. Although I welcome LGBT emancipation everywhere, one of the sad consequences of the homophobic reaction to it is the demise of displays of tenderness between straight men. When Iran wins the game, a solider kisses his superior--and not for the first time in the film either. It's not played for laughs; there's no hint of gay panic. It's as natural a reaction as yelling out the window or setting off firecrackers.
It also makes me wish I had enough competence in Persian to be able to discern accents (I understood only "Zūd bāš!") and enough knowledge of Iranian regional stereotypes to know how much they're playing to them or playing against them. The three soldiers with the most onscreen time are distinguished by their origins: the Mašhadī is most concerned with the game, the Tehrānī with his girlfriend, and the Tabrīzī with his cattle. The women's origins are more diverse; Smoking Girl tells the Tabrīzī he can trust one of the others "because she's Tehrānī", which sounds ironic because it is pretty much the exact opposite of how I expect natives of the Metropolis to be characterised anywhere.