Though less accomplished and coherent than most of his other work, this early Mohsen Makhmalbaf effort
(his fourth feature) is considerably richer than the director's own dismissal would indicate. Set in Tehran before
the Islamic revolution (and based largely on Makhmalbaf's own experiences), it charts the imprisonment and
ensuing political disillusionment of a leftist political activist (played by Majid Majidi, who went on to become a
noted filmmaker in his own right -- Children of Heaven, The Color of Paradise). While his wife (Zohreh Sarmadi)
struggles to survive on the outside, he faces hostility from the brutal authorities and his own locked-up comrades
(who pressure him to die a hero for their cause). In an oppressed nation, the best they can hope for is that, by
becoming martyrs, their deaths might bring change, to be "part of history" -- though, to the human beings caught in
the maws of the system, it's less a matter of ideology than of survival. ("Imperialism and socialist are the same
to a corpse," the doomed protagonist says.) As usual with early Makhmalbaf, the mood is spastic, with the styles
veering from polished (the virtuoso opening, with its ominously shifting viewpoints between radicals
and the secret police closing in on them, would have had Costa-Gravas taking notes) to Ed Woodish (the hero's
feverish visions of his face being devoured by animated ants). Yet the picture is of interest not only in light of the
director's subsequent growth, but also for its own complexities. For instance, in the concluding Marxist dance in
the prison yard following the hero's death, the didactically celebratory tone is muddled by the camera's high-angle
positioning, which links the hand-to-hand circles of the prisoners with the early, similarly circular overhead shot
that introduces the nightmarish interrogation bureau. Instead of neatly separated, both
sides of the conflict are braided together by Makhmalbaf's grinding anxiety.
--- Fernando F. Croce
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