For a film that begins with a divorce hearing, Asghar Farhadi’s 2011 Iranian film “A Separation” tries to show how far families will go to stay together. Unlike more straightforward family reconciliation tales such as Eugenio Derbez’ “Instructions Not Included” or Maya Kenig’s “Off White Lies,” “A Separation” is subtler, its messages less straightforward, its presentation blanketed in raw emotion and difficult moral dilemmas. However, with effective and engaging cinematography and superb acting, Farhadi’s film is a sober look at family ties, love, and conflict.
The film’s opening portrays a man, Nader (Peyman Moaadi) forsaking his marriage to his wife, Simin (Leila Hatami) in order to care for his Alzheimer’s-stricken father (Ali-Ashgar Shahbazi) rather than move out of Iran for a better life with his family. However, “A Separation” is not this simple; nor is its wide-sweeping lens. Misunderstandings (and lack of sympathies) from both sides show a communication gap that becomes apparent as the film navigates through its 123-minute runtime. We are introduced to the film’s other players here, such as Nader’s insightful and intelligent daughter Termeh (the wonderful Sarina Farhadi), a new housekeeper Razieh (Sareh Bayat), and her precocious daughter Somayeh (Kimia Hosseini).
What makes “A Separation” a compelling film lies in the gray areas it creates. Its circumstances force its characters to build their reality within the confines of their personal desires, their consciences, and their Muslim religion, all of which entangle as Farhadi’s characters try to make sense of personal values, love, and right and wrong. That Simin leaves to try to make a better life for her daughter, or that Termeh stays with her father (who will not leave his senile father alone to die), are not the endgame, but are motivations of a film that may not have a right answer. That their relationship is complicated by Razieh’s arrival, specifically after her miscarriage is attributed to the aggressive reaction of Nader when he finds out she left his father alone, unattended, serves not to explain the film’s motivations, but to perhaps blur them even more.
Visually, “A Separation” is magnificent, its cinematography avoiding fancy cuts and angles, focusing instead on facial reactions, highlighting the films’ more dramatic moments with lingering cameras and long, steady shots. The film is devoid of a musical score of any kind, adding reality to the proceedings. “A Separation” wants to let us in to these individual’s lives, not highlight its occurrences with usual Hollywood pomp and circumstance. That the film won an Oscar for “Best Foreign Language Film” for 2012 is a credit to its writing, filmography, and ambiguous presentation. It’s not an easy film to get through, but one that becomes more important as it entreats its audience not to judge its characters but merely to understand them.
The acting here is top notch, with most of the main cast preforming adequately if not superbly. The performances that really shine are that of Sarina Farhadi’s Termeh, as well as Shahab Hosseini, who plays Razieh’s husband Hojjat. Farhadi brings an urgent innocence and maturity to Termeh as she is forced to choose between her two parents during the film, often doing what is right for her family even if it is tearing her apart. With often just a look, Farhadi does what countless emotive monologues could not, a credit to both the film’s writing and her acting magnificence. Likewise, initially seen as one of the film’s antagonists, Hosseini approaches the grieving father of an unborn child with raw emotion and tortured pain, all while admitting that he suffers because he cannot talk calmly as the seemingly detached Nader. A powerhouse performance, Hosseini never once comes off as an actor, but a man seeking justice for Nader’s slight; his anger elevates when he realizes no amount of logic may provide the justice he seeks as Nader is stalwart in professing his innocence.
“A Separation’s” other characters, from Moaadi, to Hatami, to Bayat’s Razieh all do an equally compelling job convincing us of their emotion, and their seemingly impossible battle to do what is right while remaining in God’s favor. Some parts of the film, such as arguments between husbands and wives (especially given the patriarchal nature of the film’s culture) loses something in translation, while others, such as the horror of a child choosing between her own parents are poignant no matter what cultural lens they are seen through. In so many ways, “A Separation” is Termeh’s movie as she tries to form her perception of right and wrong, while suffering silently for events she cannot control.
“A Separation” is more effective than just a foreign film, its lessons subtle, its scope congealed, and its parables left up to audiences to decide. While subtitled, the film’s dialogue comes off impassioned and urgent, and most won’t have difficulty getting swept into the narrative’s emotions. While some criticism can come in the form of emotional and overlong courthouse scenes that leave audiences wishing for more insight into the two families, it serves well to illustrate that not all emotional slights have a rational conclusion. The film wisely ends with an open-ended question to the audience, posed by a judge, and asked of a young girl. Insightful films make us think. “A Separation” wants us to contemplate its complexities while wishing naively for rationality. But when is love ever that simple?
-by Mark Ziobro
1 Comment
I believe the movie is not merely about Termeh. I think everybody who’s a father, or a mother can find their counterpart in the movie; can find themselves in their shoes and ask themselves what they would do. Each person has a story, their own struggle. You can put yourself in their shoes and try to see the world through their eyes. I think, in doing so, with each character you would have at least a little sympathy. You can’t be completely for or against somebody, since each person is somehow right. All in all, it’s everybody’s story told and the situation happening at the same which make the whole movie. It’s not about just one person.