Director: Lia Fathi
Writer: Maryam Chalesh
Running time: 7mins
Putting fire and persecution behind him, a lone bird flaps wildly, to perch high on an upright, unbowed pomegranate tree. In the final image of director Lia Fathi’s remarkable student animation, Siavash in the Mirror and the Fire, we see that even after overcoming relentless hostility and injustice, even living in exile, there can still be time to find peace, and flourish in the world – however briefly.
That’s a powerful image for the millions of Iranians who have been forced to leave their homes in the years before and after the 1979 revolution. And without wading too deep into discussions of who should or should not be in control of Iran (the most likely options both seeming bad for the people: either the continuation of a brutally repressive conservative regime; or a replacement installed by the murderous regimes of US and Israel), drawing on a historic epic poem from their old home to produce images of comfort and hope that they can still survive and thrive as diaspora is a beautiful idea.
Fathi, and writer Maryam Chalesh have picked a tiny portion of Shahnameh for this project – and considering that is possibly the longest poem ever created by a single author, there were presumably many other segments which may have been vying for their attention. But as a standalone fable, the story of Siavash – the son of a Shah and a woman with no noble lineage, who is chased away from his home, but finds solace in echoing images of his early years – is impeccably chosen.
Ferdowsi’s continued saga has plenty of sadness in store for the young man in the stretch of the tale left untold here. For those familiar with the whole epic (I am not one of those people), I suspect that still works – because in the end, no happy ending really lasts forever. But the place the story comes in, and leaves off, works even better for the uninitiated – providing a standalone fable that people of every culture can still draw on for inspiration and comfort.
Further adding to this universality, the character design sticks to a black-and-white cut-out style (something also deployed in Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, to avoid illustrating superficial differences between locations and communities displayed, and instead show the similarities or areas where other countries might become more like Iran), while their design is a blend of classic Persian forms (splendorous, patterned armour; stocky horses carved into stacks of billowing shadow) and more Hollywood caricatures (the rotund, bearded Shah could have stepped out of How to Train Your Dragon). All this makes time to honour some gorgeous visual traditions from the story’s origin, while blending them with European and North American traditions to create a story that can touch people from either, or both, backgrounds.
And while the animation of the actual figures is not especially intricate, it feels entirely appropriate here. The figures are always rendered from a distance, while the real sense of motion comes from how they are framed – how landscapes and events pass them by, or encapsulate their figures – as Fathi and her team shift and re-shape the portions of the screen which are blacked out to imply the passage of time and space. At points, it feels as though we’re watching a modern shadow puppet show, and in some ways, I suppose you could argue that we are.
This is more than a modernisation, though. It doesn’t feel like Fathi’s team are simply making this story because nobody else has done a film-version of this in a couple of years. Rather, thanks to the social context it emerges into, this feels like a dialogue between past and present – and perhaps also two parts of Fathi’s own identity – having grown up in the Netherlands, but also remains “deeply drawn to the ancient stories of my country”, as per her director’s statement.
At certain moments, the storytelling might be just a little too light-touch for the uninitiated – especially for younger viewers still learning the conventions of narrative arcs in any culture. However, at just seven minutes, it ultimately finds enough space to enchant viewers from all backgrounds. It will draw them to seek out more of the expansive ancient story it draws upon – and to look forward to more productions from this team of talented modern storytellers. Considering the last film I reviewed was an absolutely bleak piece of generative slop, I have to thank these young filmmakers too; this submission was perfectly timed to help restore my faith in the independent scene.