An
Insider’s View Of Afghanistan
By
Jesse Schlotterbeck In
the past ten years Iran has surprisingly emerged as the scene of
a vibrant national cinema. One of the most striking things about
Iranian film is its spare yet vividly colorful shot composition.
Iran is a sad and beautiful place as presented through the eyes
of its filmmakers, who seem to be tentatively hopeful about their
country's future.
After periods of unrest in the late 70s and 80s, Iran by the late
90s seemed on the verge of renewal. The fact that 9/11 occurred
on top of an already slumping economy has muted but certainly not
eliminated such hopes. The country will be fortunate if it has a
fraction of the success of its film industry.
Kandahar, now one of the most famous foreign releases of the past
year, was actually rescued by September 11th. Opening a few months
before September 2001, Kandahar failed to make a name for itself
on the festival circuit and was not picked up by a major North American
distributor.
Following September 11th, the news media was caught in a flurried
determination to prove that “everything has changed.”
Arts pages discussed how our taste in art could be swayed: Would
we be more drawn toward tragic films? What about political films
or action flicks? Some writers went as far as suggesting that 9/11
would finally do away with irony and catalyze a new movement of
social realism.
The most famous concrete adjustments made in the movie industry
were a major delay in the release of the latest Arnold Schwarzenegger
action/explosion extravaganza and the instantaneous pickup of Kandahar.
While Iranian films are often political, Kandahar drew instant attention
as the only contemporary feature film specifically about Afghanistan.
Made by Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf, and mostly shot in his
country, Kandahar is about the plight of women under the Taliban
and the difficulty of outsiders to enter the country or contest
the regime. The film follows an Afghani émigré as
she tries to rescue her sister from the oppressive regime of her
home country.
Like many Iranian films, Kandahar is surreal. In one sense it is
a politically straightforward film shot in a quasi-documentary style.
This realism makes the unfamiliarity of the film’s action
seem all the more bizarre. Kandahar’s surrealism depends on
the viewer being relatively unfamiliar with the daily goings on
of life in Afghanistan.
Here, it is normal for prosthetic legs to drop from the sky in mini-parachutes.
To an American audience, the women, who are forced to dress fully
covered in brightly colored burguas, seem like ghosts in their shrouds
with peek holes.
That this film was shot in English demonstrates Makhmalbaf's awareness
of a potentially large foreign audience. His spare mise-en-scène
is highly effective. With the desert as the film’s vast stage,
commonplace events seem potently unreal. This could also be the
convenient by-product of a low budget, which more than encourages
on-location shooting.
One of the film’s weaknesses is its dialogue. Makhmalbaf is
not a native speaker, which can be gleaned from the awkwardness
of many lines. Still, while many films grow more frenetic and formalist,
Kandahar offers needed contemplative space to consider the tragedy
within the film and equally incomprehensible, unexplainable tragedy
in real life.
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