It
rather makes sense banned Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi would be drawn to
films shot in cars, because he might need to make a speedy escape during
production. This is his fourth film he has completed and released
internationally since the Iranian film authorities formally prohibited him from
pursuing his chosen art and professional vocation, following up the similarly auto-centric
Tehran Taxi. This time, Panahi, appearing
as a meta-version of himself, takes a road trip to Iran’s mountainous
Turkish-speaking Azeri region in 3 Faces,
which opens this Friday in New York.
Apparently,
social media is just as problematic in Iran, as it is in the West, judging from
the suicide video sent to famous screen thesp Behnaz Jafari, played by herself.
According to the video, Marziyeh Rezaei killed herself, because her family
forced her to give up her acting ambitions and Jafari had refused to respond to
any of her pleas for help. Jafari insists she never received any messages from
the young girl, which seems plausible, considering the video was sent to Panahi,
on her behalf.
Reluctantly,
Panahi is driving Jafari to Rezaei’s Azeri village to either verify or debunk
the videotape. He would prefer to stay clear of the mess, but his moderating influence
will probably be helpful. Much to his dismay, Jafari has been reacting more out
of anger for the embarrassment and inconvenience of the kerfuffle than compassion
for Rezaei’s plight.
The
title is a not-so obvious reference to three actresses, at very different
stages of their careers. Jafari is famous, so she is welcomed by the village
with open arms. On the other hand, Rezaei’s ambitions are treated as a source
of family shame by her father and boorish brother. However, she probably has it
easy compared to the unseen Shahrzad, a once-popular star of pre-Revolutionary
Iranian cinema, who has been scorned and harassed by the villagers since her
arrival. There are also three kindred spirits in the film, who have been
prohibited from pursuing their cinematic callings, with Panahi replacing Jafari.
The
mere fact that 3 Faces exists at all
is cause for celebration. It has also already played a small part in cinema
history, because Asghar Farhadi spoke out unequivocally against Panahi’s travel
ban, when he appeared at Cannes, which was screening his latest film, as well
as 3 Faces. Ironically, of Panahi’s
post-ban films, 3F is probably the slightest
thematically and the least concerned with social commentary, even though it is
the most traditionally movie-like. Nevertheless, there is still something acutely
compelling about Panahi’s humanistic response to the troubles of Rezaei and the
one-named Shahrzad. As in This is Not a Film and Taxi, Panahi is a
mature, reassuring, and affectionately awkward presence, like a dissident
dad-figure.
Panahi’s
shaggy charisma continues to wear well over time, but it is Jafari who really
takes possession of the film. She is sly and caustic at first, but she also makes
the most of her rewarding meta-character development arc. In many ways, Jafari
is a diva, but she still develops some surprisingly arch comedic rapport with
Panahi.
Even
a relatively minor Panahi film is cause for celebration. 3 Faces is also a graceful tribute women thesps and filmmakers, who
risk much to express themselves creatively in Islamist Iran, as well as a
subtle homage to Panahi’s former mentor and collaborator, Abbas Kiarostami (the
echoes of Kiarostami’s Close-Up are
especially pronounced). Highly recommended, 3
Faces opens this Friday (3/8) in New York, at the IFC Center.
