Omid’s brother Amed has volunteered to defend their strategic (and oil-rich) port city of Abadan, like most young men his age. Their mother whisks their younger siblings off to safer territory, reluctantly leaving Omid in charge of crotchety grandpa. Omid hoped to join Amed on the frontlines, but he changes his tune when blunders into a full-scale fire-fight.
Unfortunately, the front constantly finds Abadan thanks to Saddam’s rocket attacks. Replacing Farshid, a surrogate big brother injured by shell fragments, on his food delivery route, Omed meets a colorful cross-section of Abadan’s remaining residents. There is an eccentric engineer, two Armenian priests safeguarding their church’s icon, and Elaheh, a former star vocalist, who has been living in quiet seclusion since the Revolutionary regime banned music.
Omid is even more interested in Elaheh’s pretty young daughter, Pari, who is also incredibly brave. Pari helped save Farshid’s life after the shelling, by using her headscarf as a torniquet—in what might be one of the most important scenes in you will see in an animated film this year. Learning the Iraqis are expected to soon overrun Abadan, Omid hatches an evacuation plan inspired by his father, a sea captain who went down with his wooden lenj.
The Siren is part magical realism and partly a brutally honest and unvarnished record of life under the Islamist regime’s Khomeini years. Screenwriter Javad Djavahery’s narrative is loaded with historical and social significance, but it also tells a highly relatable coming of age story. Of course, Omid faces vastly more peril than the kid on Boyhood.
