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DVD
The Circle ***1/2 (Not Rated)
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Reviewed By Pam Singleton
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A circle of women, a cycle of fate
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Arezou: Mariam Palvin Almani
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Nargess: Nargess Mamizadeh
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Pari: Fereshteh Sadr Orfani
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Nurse: Elham Saboktakin
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Prostitute: Mojhan Faramarzi
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Ticket Seller: Monir Arab
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Director: Jafar Panahi
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Nayereh (young mother): Fatemah Naghavi
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30 Second Bottom Line: The birth of a daughter, rather than a son, is met with fear by a grandmother. This is a modern tale of the systematic oppression of women in Iran, from birth through old age. This film is banned in Iran.
Story Line: The Circle begins (and ends) with the call for a character named Solmaz Gholami, who is never seen. We hear her cries of childbirth as she delivers a beautiful baby girl. We see the fear on the face of the grandmother as she's told it's a girl, not a boy, as the husband's family had expected. The old woman escapes into the streets of Tehran, rather than deal with the in-laws, who she's certain will demand a divorce.
As she leaves the hospital, she makes brief eye contact with three women who are using a public telephone. One is picked up quickly by the police; we don't know why. The other two friends, Arezou (Mariam Palvin Almani) and Nargess (Nargess Mamizadeh) keep their distance as they watch her being taken away. We discover they've all recently been paroled from prison-or perhaps they just walked away.
It seems that their plan is to contact Pari (Fereshteh Sadr Orfani), another former inmate, who's to help them get out of the city and back to Nargess's idyllic childhood homeland. We get the feeling that Nargess, who is perhaps 18 or 19, may have an idealized impression of what awaits her there. Arezou, we discover, has no false notions about life. What crimes have all these beautiful young women committed that forced them into prison?
Arezou and Nargess's brush with Pari comes at her family's home. Her father tells them she is not there. Pari's brothers' threaten violence and throw her out into the street. Her crime-she's pregnant and unmarried.
Pari hopes to get an abortion with the help of her friend, Elham, who is a nurse. But Elham is now married to a doctor, who knows nothing of her time in prison, and she refuses to become involved with Pari.
This sends Pari scurrying back into the darkened streets. Hiding in the shadows, wrapped in her chador (a head-to-toe Islamic outer garment), she witnesses a woman, Nayereh (Fatemah Naghavi), abandon her young daughter. We learn this is not the first time she has tried to leave the child. Nayereh is a single mother, in a desperate situation. She tells Pari that she hopes a family will take the girl in. This is faulty thinking; it's obvious that a girl's life is not valued. Pari tells her to go get her child.
In her despair, a woman alone on the streets of Tehran at night, Nayereh accepts a ride in a car from a man, who seems pleasant enough. Surprising developments occur, which propel us to our next encounter in this circle of women.
Her name is Mojgan (Mojgan Faramarzi) and she is a prostitute. A compelling and proud woman, Mojgan is an observer of life and the system within which she lives. Her eyes are clear as she watches the bride in a wedding caravan that passes as she is being arrested. She sees Nayereh slip between cars and darkened buildings, draped in her chador. These are the choices she's been faced with in life.
These women hardly seem like characters. They are real Iranian women living lives fraught with perils of various sorts. Women can not smoke in public, and several times one or the other wishes to light up and can't, or secretly takes a few draws on a cigarette. There's an interesting scene on the police bus when Mojgan starts to light a cigarette and is told no. But a young male passenger offers the policeman a smoke as he lights up, and Mojgan quietly gets her cigarette.
Riding a bicycle becomes important to a young woman in the film The Day I Became a Woman, also from Iran and dealing with the treatment of women.
Women are not allowed to travel alone, unless they have a student ID, which gives them special permission. If not, they must be accompanied by an older woman or a man in their immediate family. Wrapped in their shawls and chadors, these women are hidden from the world. Yet their yearnings, aspirations and sensuality come through.
Tell Me More About It: The women in the circle of life depicted here move surreptitiously, cloaked in the chador. They appear bird-like at times, swooping between buildings and always watchful. They can hide within the folds of the garment, allowing anonymity. It allows those in authority, the men, to view women as all the same. Panahi claims not to be a political filmmaker, but that he holds a mirror that reflects social realities. He says, " It's up to the audience to interpret those realities in political terms if they wish to do so. I have made an art film with a message of protest, not a subversive political film."
There are sequences in the film when time lags. A bit tighter on the editing might have helped. Then I thought about the tedium of these women's lives and perhaps I was here to bear witness to the time they spend living those lives.
Why is it that all these women have been in prison? It may even feel a bit contrived at first. Then you realize women can be jailed for the slightest infraction. The cell, in which they are held at the end of the film, is circular. A guard calls the name of Solmaz Gholami, just as the nurse did at the beginning. She is not here-but she is, in this entire circle of women, living out a cycle of fate.
Not Rated
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Pam Singleton © 2001
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Mini Filmography
Feresteh Sadr Orafai: The White Balloon
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Jafar Panahi: The White Balloon; The Mirror
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