از طرفِ
شهریار حنیفه

The disport with realism, or verismo, (limited to: displaying the ugly and undesirable dimensions of life), has undoubtedly been the strongest motivation and most important achievement of Iranian fiction writers up to the 1970s. In their own way, too; with positive and negative aspects. The negative aspect is that in most cases, Iranian realist storytelling has not been as observational as it should be, and if it has been, it has rarely been able to capture the audience’s heart and make them feel immersed in the fabric of the story; they just read it. And perhaps this is why when this realism enters the educated cinema of those years, it is also not as observational as it should be.
And well, the writer is one of those critics who has never been able to accept the excuses that have been lined up by some people in describing the unfavorable conditions of that era, such as the lack of efficient cameras and lenses (for better filming) and the prevalence of studio problems in final production (poor image quality and consequently poor audience reception); and believes that, no, the filmmaker’s knowledge has been lacking at the moment of capturing the image, in a more forgiving language: it has been careless. His focus is on what has been written on paper before, and isn’t it true that a written work does not know the present, the moment of capturing the image, in advance, and cannot predict it like fortune tellers to be prepared and intelligent in the face of it? Fictional writing, and here, in this limited scope of discussion, writings derived from realist literature in Iran [1], has been entertaining in its portrayal of characters and their relationships with each other, and we are all aware of this reality/weakness: excessive emphasis on issues related to character development and neglecting to define the other realistic elements of the story in detail.
Criticism and opinion on this subject should be left to the experts in the field of literature and storytelling; but when it comes to cinema… it can be said that in most items – and not all – excessive attention and overpayment to the characters of a story is a serious flaw for a film. On the one hand, talking about characterization automatically brings up the topic of stereotyping, and the use of stereotypes in cinema – at least until today – has never become an approved model for the different genres of a film, and the majority – both general and specific – have always looked at the screenwriter of these kinds of screenplays with a simplistic cynicism. While Iranian realist storytelling has always had a deep connection with stereotypes and familiar characters from the point of view of the majority – both general and specific – and unlike cinema, where turning a character into a stereotype is considered a trap, here it is a trap to stay a character, to stay strange and special, and writers should have tried to create characters as much as possible that are not alien and pre-created in the mind of the audience, but rather «the reader in the process of reading the text of the story, constantly remembers the real examples of these characters in the world around him. [2]»
Therefore, what is obvious and can be examined are the example situations [3]. Not in the sense that we say so and so is a symbol of such and such, and this rooftop refers to Iran, and the spread of that disease is a reference to land reform, and such talk… An example situation simply means being familiar; and not even necessarily being a stereotype, and… only that. One may even deny this familiarity and remember nothing (true or false). And it is possible that this familiarity for another person is so captivating and alive that the writings of the decades after him also seem to be followers and reflections of the example situations of those decades with the same people.[4]
1. Stories whose short narrative takes place only in a… for example, a shop, or a house, or a hallway… in general, in a small and limited space with a few characters: Do you agree that in none of its pages is it clear whether the story takes place in the city or in the village? There is no separate space-building in the description of these two worlds – in that small space of the story and that exclusive focus on the pure characterization – and since both the urban writer and the urban reader had a rural background and the cultures were similar and understandable, the distinction has become harder and in half of the samples even impossible. In the story of “Birth,”[5] when the lady says, “You gave birth to a boy with golden hair. It’s also Friday night he was born, you have to donate as much dates as his weight.” This is a sentence that belongs to all of Iran and there is no outstanding feature in it to distinguish and measure urban culture from rural culture; everyone has had a lady with such beliefs in their city and village at some point; right? So with this description, is the story happening in which of them?
Place the two films of the 1970s – of my interest – “The Dagger” directed by Fereydun Gole and “Red Hair” directed by Abdollah Ghiabi next to each other (after all, they are similar in many ways). Is this defect still not obvious? From a narrative point of view: the way of falling in love, taking revenge, cheating, being kind,… are exactly the same. It’s as if it doesn’t matter that one takes place in Tehran and the other in Bandar Abbas.
2. Although a large part of these stories have a non-urban origin [6], they are all written in Persian; the Kurdish writer living in the capital has never found a convincing reason to isolate himself from the industrial art sector and write stories in Kurdish, and ultimately pay a cost for translation. The process of choosing words has been limited to choosing which Persian phrase to place next to which Persian phrase; since, after all, these phrases create characters together… who is nosy, who is greedy for the world, who is obsessed with God and the Prophet, who is devout, moral characteristics in general.
The mainstream cinema of Iran in the 1960s and 1970s welcomed languages and dialects (albeit sparingly, and albeit only to make the audience laugh and not for linguistic reasons!). In the later decades, when the excitement of this realism subsided, Iranian cinema in general has never had a serious engagement with the issue of language and has not been obsessive about it. Bahram Beyzaie is a memorable example of this, who made the film “Bashu, the Little Stranger” in 1989, among the people of northern Iran and with their own specific language, and without Persian subtitles; and… the same Beyzaie who had previously made “The Stranger and the Fog” and “Ballad of Tara” in the 1970s, and the indigenous people of his films spoke fluent Persian with a sweet Tehran accent!
Question: Why in a particular period, every rural film that was made, had such a ruthless treatment of the native language of that land? We know that Iranian filmmakers have always, and even more specifically in those two decades, had a special connection with literature; I have read a text from all the literate filmmakers of that era, whom I know and have seen their work, without exception: a story, a poem, a report for a newspaper, an article, … Their special connection is undeniable.
So, it’s quite peculiar to conclude that the roots of the filmmakers’ shortcomings lie in the direction taken by the prominent writers of that era, isn’t it?
And from another perspective, the two points I mentioned, besides considering what the influence is and who exerts it, can also be examined from this standpoint: Well, these filmmakers, who seem quite countercultural and distinctive, why haven’t they added the element of strangeness in their dialogues to the structure of their works? Could it be because if they did, their films might have appeared rational and less unique!?
The author is willing to continue the discussion in this writing about these rural works and announce his opinion, whether these films (we are not talking about documentaries) have been able to correctly display the indigenous world of Iran, now not in that vastness and colorful, but in these points that have been around Tehran and the path to Tehran has also been paved, or not.
Before the review, a short note: We know and accept that the internal potential of the country (specialists, tools, acceptance from the indigenous people) was not enough in those years to visit everywhere and analyze each one separately, and well in the years later too – increase of this potential? – According to official statistics [7], the rural population of the country gradually decreased and the rituals and characters were forgotten and … In short, we know that a considerable part of our Iran has completely disappeared and no one knows what it was and if he knows, he doesn’t have the patience to record it anymore and no motivation either. We know these things. And let’s pass …
The image of the village, in its essential face of natural geography and the design of its human structures – large and small – (and in other aspects: language and culture (which I mentioned very generally and what I said is a label that is very general to all of them)) in cinema, is presented to the viewer as a mise-en-scène.
Three prominent – and to some extent global – rural films of that era are: “The Cow” directed by Dariush Mehrjui, which is an adaptation of a short story of the same name in the collection of stories “The Mourners of Bayal” written by Gholam-Hossein Saedi, “The Fountain” directed by Arby Ovanessian, which is an adaptation of the novel “The Fountain of Heghnar” written by Mkrtich Armen, and “Khake Sar Beh Mohr” directed by Marva Nabili, which, of course, is not based on a literary story, but, well, any discerning mind can tell that the style of its screenplay is incredibly similar to the style of the previous two works. Nabili’s film is more interesting than the other two works in one respect: unlike the previous ones that are made in black and white, it is in color. But on the other hand, the film, in its entirety, in its perception, does not return any color other than black and white from itself; color is in it (probably because technology has entered Iran) but in concept, there is no glitter in the work and the mise-en-scène does not refer to color, diversity, and anything that has the ability to draw our gaze towards itself, and is empty of empty. In fact, the story of “Khake Sar Beh Mohr” is inherently black and white. A feature that also exists in the other two films/stories and they too, in watching/reading, do not have any color and in the world of imagination as well (even if a film was not made of them) were single-colored for us.
The three films mentioned are completely similar to each other in their mise-en-scène and the ecosystem they present. The number of long shots is very small (there is no opportunity to gaze in the village) and the shots are more informative (it does not matter if they are first, middle, or last, they are all informative); informative of the characters: the characters are bold; and in their background: mud walls, trees, three or four copper bowls that have fallen to the ground…
All three of them could have been made in one village, or even, around a few mud houses on the outskirts of Tehran. And this is while one was supposed to be in Bayal, one in Gyumri, and one in Qalehno-Asgar; to emphasize what I meant at the beginning of my text: the stories also create such an image in our minds without comparing them to the film. The authors’ desire has been for the space in the mind of the audience to be formed from a few familiar elements so that the reader simply accepts that the story is taking place in a village. The most creative part of the story description may have been that an author mentions that a woman who has put her head out the window and is looking outside, has another window next to her window (which the neighbor woman has not put her head out of) and in short, that two windows are installed on this shared wall, not one window.
It is worth mentioning that, yes, our perception works to the extent that we do not go astray from Saedi’s story and digest the reason for our invitation to Bayal; poverty prevails over the people in Bayal and this is the reason for being nothing. On the other hand, Armen’s story is not too confused in emptiness and has little diversity: multiculturalism is alive in it and the characters take their own specific and diverse positions in the debate.
With this interpretation, an example situations of realism that I mentioned earlier is revealed and this time literature harms cinema from another side; it casts a shadow over the screenplay and what is to be presented and takes the audience on a journey to another world; in its best state, the place (city, village) can explain and complete people (it cannot be independent, or even war it). The village of Bayal is supposed to be a typical village reminiscent of the environment that has raised people and these people now – that day – had characteristics such as: what motivated them was death. Life did not flow for them and working was hard for them. They were superstitious, had a limited understanding of religion, were illiterate, were poor, …
The geography of Bayal and its climate are no longer important (it is dry, which means: it is in ruins). The pattern on the tiles of its pool is not important (the same pool that Mrs. Meshedi Hassan went to and beat herself and cried). The size of the village is not important (Bayal is the size of its people, not more or less). The names are also: Mash Eslam, Headman, Aunt, … are clear enough, aren’t they!?
In Ovanessian’s work, this uniformity can be easily observed in character-building and situations, and our taste, after its intriguing start, is easily blinded. Everything was an excuse, the discussion was only about morality: how people with different beliefs cannot live comfortably and peacefully side by side (in a specific time period, or perhaps in all times).
Or in “Khake Sar Beh Mohr”, the kind of being is related to superstition, tradition, and modernism. A typical family (superstition), a typical marriage (tradition), a typical girl (modernism).
The village of Qaleh Now Esghard was simply an excuse to show the backwardness of society and a place that the filmmaker thought he could more easily prepare the viewer’s mind to accept how these kinds of beings are and a simpler way to challenge old thoughts and… maybe their mockery (?); (At that time, villagers did not know what rehabilitation was and were not inclined to complain).
I likes and dislikes these stories and films. Perhaps if their creators – at the time of construction – knew what they were destroying, they would have taken a different course; or not necessarily these, other filmmakers too. But someone had to realize…
A few years ago, a film was screened at the Fajr Festival called “EV” (means: The Home). Many people did not like it and did not find very good conditions for wider release. The reason? Probably the incredible uproar of the media (people who seem to need more experience in dealing with people, their behaviors, and their discourses) at the same premiere: “Why should we watch a film with Azerbaijani dialogues?” It is a terrifying criticism, isn’t it? As if it is promising, no, the right word is not, gradually summoning the robotic and uniform world that we know will come. The filmmaker’s response to the critics was very simple: “Tabriz is my birthplace and home, and I know it better than anywhere else. [8]”
That is to say, it is not necessary at all when a film is not very intertwined with its cultural and environmental environment and can be produced in Tehran and in Persian, it is produced in Tehran and in Persian! Of course it is not necessary!
Sometimes I ask myself why people litter in the streets and alleyways? Don’t people know that the earth feels? It’s not a matter of “our city, our home”. You shouldn’t litter in other people’s cities either (not for fear that they will litter in our city). It is a respect that we show to the earth. To the people who have walked and will walk and will walk on this earth, to the ideas that are formed on this earth – and with the help of this earth. Culture, language, faith, dreams… Let me put it more generally: all the ways we interact with things (and the things themselves, which are made up of this) are thinkers in themselves; they think.
Have you ever sat at home and thought about the sea and the meadow that you spent hours exploring years ago, and this time without yourself? I mean, imagine it empty. Right now, right now, imagine that peak without you. Is it cold? Quiet? Lonely? Maybe someone is there; a deer, an enemy plane, a snowman, a stranger from another world, a shadow, a half-lit fire, a fantasy…
These thoughts are difficult for us because we have given less room for the thought of places; to be more precise: the one who introduced us to a place did not speak of the thought of the place either.
Filmmakers have not given the audience the time to think only about the place itself – and the elements that stand out in it. Remember “Where is the Friend’s House?” by Master Kiarostami; when in the middle of the film, the grandfather sends the boy (who we have been with from the beginning of the film) home on the pretext of bringing his cigarettes, and the filmmaker’s camera this time does not go with the boy and stays for six minutes with the grandfather and the village: a moment when the thought of the village slowly wanders into our being and makes our real being in Koker possible.
Things are understood in silence. If we are supposed to follow along quickly and quickly pass through the seven castles and quickly the event… Do you agree that our speed is dependent on the characters/events and only this is providing us with the opportunity to accompany the work? While the environment has remained fixed all this time, waiting for the scene to clear; so that, with the accompaniment of silence and the tranquility of the scene, it can reveal itself (when no one is there). And the manifestation of the environment is equal to the activation of our imagination; giving truth/body to an illusion and an image, formed from the thought of the artist behind the camera and the little artist within me and you; then it passes through our personal filters: memories and mementos. Here we are ourselves and ourselves. And isn’t it that this imagination always reaches its peak in darkness and solitude? So there should be an opportunity for us to be alone with the places in films: wandering through the village’s alleyways, sitting next to a flower and having a short chat with it, sitting up late and stargazing, spending a few aimless minutes with the horsemen, swimming,…
Perhaps the environment will be imprinted in our minds; for eternity.
Let’s reconsider a few more examples because:
1- The reader of this text (criticizing the use of mise-en-scène in three renowned Iranian cinema films) might take a stance on why films showcasing considerable diversity in portraying the rural landscape more vividly, capturing elements of rural life so attractively, have not been mentioned as instances – perhaps examples that might contradict my viewpoint. Firstly, it’s important to note that a substantial part of my discussion draws upon my limited visual experiences, and my personal opinion heavily influenced the selection of these examples in terms of how they’re perceived and analyzed.
For example, two films, “Tight Spot” directed by Amir Naderi, an adaptation of a novel by Sadeq Chubak, and “The Soil” directed by Masoud Kimiai, based on the story “The Tale of Baba Sobhan” by Mahmoud Dowlatabadi. The reason these films and similar works haven’t been mentioned, from my perspective, is the subtle inner aspects within the environment in various aspects—even in prevalent types and the creation of a unified perception—in the film. They might possess diverse portrayals. In their coexistence within the environment, these are two distinct categories. The rural ambiance is sensed in these films, but the compelling companionship of characters/events doesn’t allow for attention to be diverted to elements other than the skilled artist and their captivating yet entangling dramatics, hindering the exploration of other facets of the film. In this type of cinema, the viewer becomes captive. One cannot easily leave the cinema hall. More precisely (from their cunning and manipulating aspect): They don’t let you be alone with the environment.
On another note, other significant rural films, which, from my positive perspective (slowly getting physical and making it possible for us to walk in the environment), have been crafted within the environment but haven’t drawn influence from Iranian realism literature. Therefore, they were left unmentioned (works that are not only relevant in this context and perspective but also seen as more distinctive from various other angles among the remarkable works of the 1960s and 1970s).
For instance, “The Sun in the Swamp” directed by Mohammad Saffar (if we consider a segment of the film’s woodland cabin as part of a scattered northern village), or “Zanburak” directed by Farrokh Ghaffari (if we weigh the impact of history on the distinction or lack thereof between city and village), or “Tall Shadows of the Wind” [9] directed by Bahman Farmanara (if we place emphasis on the visual representation of the environment, the objective cinematography, as well as the implicit folklore woven into the locals’ lives – a cinematography depicting spirits).
2- Nonetheless, it’s not appropriate to not provide an exemplary instance amidst this extent of criticism. The writer’s choice (as the best film viewed in that era, specifically in this field) is Amir Naderi‘s film “Harmonica“. Although its screenplay is not an adaptation, its stylistic influences… similar to “Khake Sar Beh Mohr”, it undeniably showcases the impact of realism literature.
A detailed analysis of “Harmonica” exceeds the scope of this text; it’s extensive. Moreover, to me, its analysis exhibits an obsessive dependence on categorizations that lack harmony in their entry points to their content (similar to those peculiar little books that discuss films).
Don’t be upset. It’s true that part of the intent of this text becomes achievable and understandable with the description of a pivotal example. However, well… one can reiterate any critique raised in the above lines—even if minimally referencing “Harmonica”—and state that these criticisms do not include this film, thus “Harmonica” is a good film. One can also mention that since mise-en-scène and our gradual passage within it form a crucial part of the idea in this context, fundamentally, this perspective, prior to being literary—dependent on my text—is visual. Therefore, go and watch the film again to see for yourself. But well, even this is somewhat referencing the film (it should be said, why things are interconnected and how, otherwise it’s highly probable that it won’t be noticed upon viewing).
I don’t know… “Harmonica” is among those best ones that leave us helpless during their analysis. Not because we don’t know why they’re good (we should know why we like or dislike films), but because we don’t know where to begin or for whom to reveal…

Explanations:
[1] Until the end of the 1950s. The author has not reviewed much of the realist literature after that decade and has not been particularly interested in it.
[2] “Short stories in Iran” (volume 1 (realistic and naturalistic)); Dr. Hossein Payandeh; page 451
[3] The meaning of “example situations” in this place: like, similarity, a sample of a whole
[4] The author does not have a tendency to pin his theories on Iranian novels, and therefore does not find an urgent need for examples here and there, or even the best example – to prove without question. Literature in this article is a rope to cling to cinema; So only short references to not be empty. Here: the novel “Termite” written by Bozorg Alavi; and again from the same author, a number of short stories that were released in the collection “Gilemard“. A return to the past and a continuation of the same realism: what was seen before.
[5] From the collection “Marriage and other stories“; Esmail Fassih.
[6] Even if you read the most modern of them, somewhere in the story you will find a person who decides to return to their village!
[7] In the book “Urbanization in Iran” by Farrokh Hasemaian, Giti Etemad, Mohammad Hossein Hairi, it is mentioned that in 1921, 80% of the country’s population was made up of villagers and with the growth of migration, this statistic reaches 52% (rural population) in 1978. You can see how this ratio has changed today on the website of the National Statistics Portal (www.amar.org.ir); According to the latest census (2016), only 25% of the country’s population are villagers. And I suggest you watch the documentary “Talan” by Mohammad Sadegh Dehghani with your own eyes to see how the trend of migration from villages to cities will continue in the future, otherwise you won’t believe it.
[8] Interview with the artist newspaper (No movie is produced for box office failure); 29 January 2017
[9] Adapted from the short story “The First Innocent” by Houshang Golshiri