They
are like characters in a Persian Pirandello play, but at least they are well
accessorized. Existence is absurd and tragic, yet everyone sports ultra-sparkly
blue boots. It is not realistic, but it is not meant to be. Probably the only
thing true to life is the gut-punching conclusion, but that comes relatively
early in Abed Abest’s experimental, reverse-sequence Simulation
(trailer here),
which screens during the 2017 Toronto International Film Festival.
Abest
starts with the third act and then rewinds to the second and first. Yes, it
ends badly, but that is what you should expect if you’ve been dragged down to
an Iranian police station. Living in Abadan near the Iraqi border means the
Iran-Iraq War remains high in people’s consciousness, even for Abed and his two
delinquent friends, Aris and Vahim, who are all far too young to have served.
They have been arrested for causing disturbance of the home of Esi, a
well-to-do merchant who is plenty old enough to remember the war.
The
exact nature of their relationship is sketchy, but you probably would not call
them friends. For obvious reasons, the tell-tale signs are double or triple
coded, but we start to suspect Esi is somewhat openly closeted and the three
young punks are pretending to be on the down-low to get close to him for
nefarious, non-sexual purposes.
The
action takes place on a stripped-down stage that is Spartan to the point of
being surreal. Despite the deliberately “staged” presentation, Abest’s restless
camera and distorted sound effects constantly bust us out of the proscenium arch.
He does everything humanly possible to undermine the on-screen drama, yet
somehow we get pulled in anyway.
Simulation partly derives its
potency from the hot-button issues that divide contemporary Iranian society.
Regardless of his sexuality, we can infer Esi is relatively wealthy and more
secularly inclined in his values. On the other hand, Abed and company have little
prospects, but even though they hypocritically indulge in alcohol and drugs,
they most likely voted for Ahmadinejad, if they were old enough.
Despite
playing a character at least twenty years older than himself, without the
benefit of special make-up or costuming, Daniyal Khojasteh is terrific as old
Esi. It is a portrayal of rage and dignity that leaves a deep impression. As
Abed, Aris, and Vahin, Abest, Majid Yousefi, and Vahid Rad personify alienated malevolence,
but Abest somewhat humanizes his namesake through Abed’s relationship with his
adoring niece.