
I had high hopes for the latest Majid Majidi film, even if I wasn’t too sure about what to expect. Majidi, after all, is something of a prodigy when it comes to Iranian cinema, and is acknowledged as one of the best directors in a country known for the excellence of its films.
Cinema Nouveau devotees may remember ‘Children of Heaven’ and ‘Colour of Paradise’, which were both Majidi films. Both debuted to international acclaim and received lavish praise from critics and audiences alike. They’re remembered for their charming characters, intimate settings and the simplicity of their story lines.
While our cinemas are bombarded with self-consciously too-clever art films and too-silly unfunny comedies from a jaded, cynical Hollywood, Iranian films come as a breath of fresh air. They’re sweet, perhaps even slightly cloying, they’re original in both story and direction, and they offer a different perspective on social realities.
Majidi’s two previous films, which I mentioned above, were from a child’s perspective, with plucky, precocious children in the title role, so ‘Baran’ is something of a departure from this formula. It’s also far more explicit in its criticism of social conditions in Iran. But it does retain an overriding characteristic of Iranian cinema: the fundamental belief in the innate goodness of human beings.
The title character, Baran, is an Afghan girl from a family of refugees. When her father is seriously injured while working on a building site in Tehran, Baran (Zahra Bahrami), as the eldest child, is forced to take his place. She disguises herself as a twelve-year-old boy, Rahmat, but the building supervisor soon notices she cannot manage the heavy loads. Instead, Baran/Rahmat ends up in charge of the kitchen, thus displacing the Iranian Lateef (Hossein Abedini) from his rather cushy job as tea-maker.
Lateef isn’t too impressed with this turn of events. Initially a selfish, cocky teenager bitter at losing his job to a runt of an Afghan, Lateef has a change of heart when he accidentally discovers Rahmat’s secret. Soon after, Rahmat loses his job when the labour inspectors discover the building supervisor has been illegally employing Afghans.
Lateef, who by now has fallen in love with the gentle refugee, is determined to find her and save her from a life of endless hard work and suffering. He does indeed save her — but this means the two will never see each other again.
With the marvellous ‘Children of Heaven’ still fresh in my mind (I’d recently watched it on video), I have to admit that I was a little disappointed in ‘Baran’. I found the girl-disguised-as-a-boy plot gimmicky and tired, and the film never really took off in the same way ‘Children of Heaven’ did. But the comparison is more than a little unfair as ‘Children’ is an exceptional movie in every sense; and ‘Baran’, for all its faults, is a moving and engaging journey.
What the international critics are saying:
"An emotionally strong and politically potent piece of cinema."
— The Wolf, IOFILM.CO.UK
"A mix of gritty realism, crisp storytelling and radiant compassion that effortlessly draws you in."
— Michael Wilmington, CHICAGO TRIBUNE
"The universal theme of becoming a better person through love has never been filmed more irresistibly than in 'Baran.'"
— Betty Jo Tucker, REELTALK MOVIE REVIEWS
"Majidi is an unconventional storyteller, capable of finding beauty in the most depressing places."
— Bruce Newman, SAN JOSE MERCURY NEWS