Photograph by Bonnie Elliot
Few world governments are more maligned in the West than Iran’s. But the lives of its people, divided along religious, political and cultural lines, are rarely glimpsed by the outside world (the sleepy Midwestern United States in particular). Every aspect of day-to-day existence is entwined with the country’s roots in Shia Islam, and public conduct is thoroughly regulated by a theocratic regime which judges by one standard only: Hallal or haraam?
But the 20-something Iranians of My Tehran for Sale drink alcohol at dance parties, and snap digital photos with cell-phone cameras. They are poets, psychologists and performance artists who chain-smoke and cohabitate before marriage. It’s a familiar, quasi-Western counterculture existing in direct opposition to an Islamic Republic, which enforces its hard-line religious doctrine even on secular Iranians.
First-time director Granaz Moussavi personifies this national contradiction in the film’s protagonist, a young actress and fashion designer, Marzieh (Marzieh Vafamehr). Sporting oversized sunglasses and short, cropped hair, the film picks up as she begins a relationship with an Iranian-born Australian citizen, Saman. The two quickly fall in Hollywood-style love and make plans to leave the country, and so Marzieh’s narrative is revealed as she retells her story to foreign immigration officials for political asylum. Like any woman seeking independence and creative freedom in Tehran, Marzieh must live a clandestine life, concealing her work and lifestyle from authorities. The raw, guerilla-style footage provides an authentic and intimate portrait of Tehran, one juxtaposed by the polished composition and framing of Granaz’s indoor scenes. There, Marzieh constantly finds herself boxed in, framed by her surroundings—Moussavi’s visual metaphor for her heroine’s increasing isolation.
Fate inevitably derails the couple’s plans when Marzieh tests positive for HIV and is denied an Australian visa. As she prepares to flee Iran, now illegally, she attends a rock show featuring the Iranian blues singer Babak Mirzakhani, performing with his group, the Mirza Band. Marzieh and the audience look on in silence as Mirzakhani’s Farsi growl blends with traditional Western blues instrumentation—high-gain Fender guitars and amps, drums and bass—like a Persian Tom Waits. The scene is the film’s emotional climax, and the music lingers with Marzieh (and the viewer), as she sells off her remaining possessions to pay for passage out of Tehran.
Moussavi and Vafamehr distill the struggles of an entire nation grappling with identity, tradition and its place in the modern world into a singular, stunning, and highly personal narrative. Credit the St. Louis International Film Festival for its selection of a film shedding so much light on a side of Iran that Missourians might never otherwise experience. For Westerners, this a rare, moving glimpse into the world of dissident Iran–a world whose inhabitants resemble ourselves.
NOTE: The original review noted that "Granaz and Australian cinematographer Bonnie Elliot were forced to work secretly in Iran’s capital, smuggling cameras into and out of the country in backpacks." Director Granaz Moussavi reports that the film, which was made in the summer of 2008, was shot with all required permits, and was not shot illegally. The review has been updated to reflect this fact, and we sincerely regret the error.
