Taheri had no idea of the true nature of today’s gig until she got there. Whenever she sees the battered Sonia, she feels overwhelming shame, but it isn’t like she has any choice. It isn’t just a question of her safety. There is also her young son and her unborn daughter to worry about. As she explains to Sonia, while fixing her makeup, she intends to call her Hiva, because it means hope.
One way or another, the “director” will force Sonia to disavow reports of her sister’s murder while in police custody. Instead, she must blame her death on an overdose of anti-depressants, which she had supposedly been taking for some time. However, the words literally stick in Sonia’s throat. The unseemly business is also profoundly disgusting Taheri.
Karamroudi’s film is tragically timely and horrifyingly grounded in reality. Indeed, it echoes many reports of the Iranian regime’s atrocities and the crude propaganda they produced to deny their crimes against their own citizens. This is a work of fiction, but it is based on truth. Indeed, the screenplay, co-written by Karamroudi and Arian Vazirdaftari is unusually well-crafted, saying much, quite eloquently, even though the dialogue is rather economical.
Indeed, Karamroudi and Sonia Sanjari both deliver remarkable performances, conveying as much or more through facial expressions and body language than mere words. This is a powerful film that should make everyone angry—and should profoundly embarrass everyone who kept silent as the Iranian regime tortured and executed tens of thousands of protesters.
Every festival should consider it their duty to program Karamroudi’s film. It indicts the brutality of the oppressive Islamist government, as well as the insulting crudeness of their propaganda. It also happens to be an excellent work of cinema. Very highly recommended, It Means Hope screens again this Monday (2/23) as part of the latest post-Park City edition of Slamdance.
