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Can you imagine a convincing love story where the persons in love never speak to one another, and never touch? Well, we have one here. This is Iranian Majid Majidi's 2001 release about a man working on a construction site far from home near the Afghanistan border. The opening credits relate to us the amount of Afghan refugees in Iran shortly after the Soviet occupation. Because of the massive influx of Afghan refugees, the local economies were stressed, drawing parallels with our situation with Mexican immigrants. The local Iranian workers are met with charges that the Afghans work harder, for less.Lateef is one such Iranian. His job is to mix tea for the other construction workers, and provide lunches during the day. He is 17, and regarded as a bit aloof. One day, one of the Afghan construction workers fall from the building, and breaks his foot. Because he is the family of five children's only means of support, his "son" Rahmat is introduced to the forman. Rahmat is put to work, and cannot do the heavy labor (there is no mechanical help at the site. All the concrete and heavy tools must be physically carried up ramps), he is therefore given the light tea job, and Lateef is now doing heavy labor.
He soon discovers that Rahmat is not Rahmat, but Baran, a daughter. In this society in which women do not work at construction sites, he falls in love. Now, we have certainly seen these roles before, but the twist is that it is taking place in Iran, in which men and women's roles are well defined, and there are lines not crossed.
He protects her when inspectors come round looking for Afghans, he keeps other contruction workers out of the kitchen, he sells his indentification card to provide her family money when they are returning to Afghanistan. In short, he sacrifices everything for this woman whom he has never spoken to, much less touched. Majidi is able to convince us through his story telling that not only is this believable, it is understandable. There is no doubt that when she leaves for Afghanistan, he will never see her again, and it is not hard to believe that another woman will always be in second place.
As in Color of Paradise and Children of Heaven, Majidi has a knack for making simple ideas fresh and exciting, not only by building suspense, but also by his use of colors and imagery. Long narrow roads, mountains, shadows.
He also very casually gives us hints of the different Muslim cultures. Throughout the film, Baran wears a cloak on her head, presumably to disguise the fact she is a woman. But in preparing for her trip back to Afghanistan, she is fully cloaked in the garb that has been associated with the Taliban. I think that Majidi is clueing us Westerners into the idea that not all Muslim countries are the same, and Iran may not be all it is cracked up to be on television.
Of the three Majidi films I have seen, I would rate this as the third best, but that is very misleading, as it is very good. Color of Paradise has an opening scene as original and tender as I have ever seen, and its image remains alive with me five years as much today as when I first viewed it. Children of Heaven ends with a scene, perhaps not as tender, but more poignant and beautiful. Baran does not contain those elements and images, and is more of an adult story. Majidi's three films I have seen are almost told like a fairy tale.
Certainly recommended.
Follow Ups:
The three films you mention are astounding. "Color of Paradise" may be the most devastating film I've ever seen. Great write-up!
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