Thursday, July 29, 2021

Botox

Ya gotta love an Iranian melodrama that for its cultural context chooses the Roadrunner cartoon.

Kaveh Mazaheri’s film is a bleak fable of constricted lives. The responsible sister Azar struggles to support her autistic older sister Akram and their layabout brother Emad, who provides no help. But it’s Iran so Azar has to fake his authority to partner with a crook to raise black market magic mushrooms. To scale up that operation the sisters move into a shed.

The interiors are initially defined by cage-like verticals in a palette of drab greys. The first and brief flush of brightness is the fake beauty ads of the dermatology clinic where Azar works. 

As the botox promises the appearance of eternal youth, engineer Saeid relies on hair implants. The magic mushrooms complete the triad of futile attempts to alter or evade reality. Emad dreams of escaping to Germany. In another illusion, the community prayer scene is rigged to appear to hear Emad is safe. 

There is no love in this family. The uncle is happy to pay his way out of dealing with Akram, providing the siblings’ home. Emad torments Akram until she instinctively recoils. But even Azar shows Akram affection only in public. She is finally so angry that she locks her out in the cold, leading to Akram’s destructive outburst. Her apparent virtue and patience are diminished by the falseness of her job and the criminality of her mushroom business. 

Beside her Akram stands as an unchangeable, indomitable reality. She allows the measure of the others’ humanity. One understands Azar’s frustrations but feels for Akram’s exclusion. 

And so to the Roadrunner, which appears — also in bleached out white — on a TV set that Akram watches in the opening shot. She stands in frozen silhouette surrounded by dull white lace, a block before the manic action. 

Like the central family, those cartoon characters are helplessly locked into their limited destinies. Wiley Coyote is eternally ravenous, ingenious and doomed. No ploy leaves him unpunished. His tempter and nemesis is effortlessly invincible. Their ritual replays eternally, their existential fate as profound as the Monumental Valley aerial plunges that characterize the setting.

A few scenes evoke the  Roadrunner surrealism. The family car, which needs a sibling push to start, could have been ordered from Acme Automotive. Reacting against his torment, Akram casually kicks Emad off the roof. Azar smothers him in the kitchen. The sisters fumble about his burial, for which Azar ultimately drives out onto a frozen lake, then again to check on him. 

In another stretch of natural realism the film concludes with the yard having erupted overnight in magic mushrooms. Akram for the second time hallucinates Emad’s return, this time including Azar — and the car — in her fantasy. Mazaheri’s point is that the characters’ lives are so hopeless perhaps their only refuge lies in delusion, the fakery of the ads, the cosmetic aspirations, or retreat into abject fantasy. Unlike the indomitable shape-shifting Wiley, Edam is "real" so his survival isn't.

In this film’s helpless, stifled society, a wail from within Iran, there is no trust even in the central family unit, nor any relief but in delusion. Akram's impossible hallucination at the end is her equivalent to the eponymous treatment: trying to stop time to deny loss.     

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