The director is supposedly casting for an adaptation of Scheherazade (1,001 Nights), re-conceived as a horror movie. That alone would be suspicious, given Iranian censorship. Nevertheless, the women are all familiar with the unnamed director’s work and most are aware of his somewhat scandalous reputation.
Throughout the film, Alia mercilessly trains the camera on the actresses as the director insists that they participate in a series of increasingly inappropriate improvisational exercises, while he films their “auditions,” found footage-style (scrupulously keeping himself out of the frame). For the actresses, this is particularly shocking, because the director readily admits such subject matter would never pass muster with the censors. Yet, he frames his demands as a test of their commitment to their craft.
Indeed, the line between hypothetical improv and the director’s true intentions is blurry, at best. When the actresses push back, the director’s demeanor turns aggressive. Then they inevitably discover they are locked in, without their phones.
Consisting almost entirely of uncomfortable close-ups, 1,001 Frames shows an aesthetic kinship with Alireza Khatami & Ali Asgari’s Terrestrial Verses and some of Abbas Kiarostami’s more avant-garde films, such as Shirin and Ten. In terms of tone, Alia’s film more closely compares to Terrestrial Verses, because both depict grossly unequal power dynamics. However, 1,001 Frames constantly threatens to take an even darker, more volent turn.
Alia’s cast deliver remarkably powerful and often quite courageous performances. It is crystal clear the drama has great personal relevance for them. There is no weak link, but perhaps Behafarid Ghafarian most stands out, as one of the youngest and the most self-possessed of the supposed auditioners.
