There's the famous quote from Shakespeare - “the first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.” It's from one of his plays that was never made into a movie, so I can't tell you which one. I can tell you, though, it was meant as a vision of utopia. Having seen Asghar Farhadi's A Separation I can report that a justice system that dispenses of the sleazoids in slick suits still has plenty of problems.
For a western (or is it just uninformed?) audience, there are moments of revelation at every turn during this tone poem on ethics, culpability and class relationships. For starters, you might have to admit to yourself midway through that, oh, you didn't realize that was actually a courtroom. The rule of law in Iran, if this movie is to be taken at face value, involves both the accuser and the accused ranting and throwing their arms around in a cluttered room until an old man makes his pronouncements.
And this is not one of those "world cinema" experiences set in the goat-herding, bootleg blue jeans and no running water parts of town. This is, like, a modern city. (Teheran, presumably, though I didn't make out any distinguishing buildings.) (Not that I'd know what to look for.)
Forgive me for sounding flip, as there is much intricate plotting, raw emotion and powerful acting in A Separation, but I can't deny its most fascinating aspect is the most base, Us Magazine-esque "They're Just Like Us!" appeal. I don't recall ever getting such a peek into middle class Iranian life before. Despite the vast divide in codes of conduct (and courts, apparently), once inside the apartment looks like it could have been on the Upper West Side. There was Twinings Tea on the counter.
At an impasse, and unable to get a divorce and custody of their child, Hatami moves in for a while with her parents. It's then that Maadi's character hires Sareh Bayet to help him care for her father. She is a simple person, pure of heart, and devout to the point of needing to telephone a religious adviser for instruction on how to clean a male invalid who has wet himself. (The answer: do it quickly, and try not to put yourself in that situation again.)
With this setup in place, there follows a number of mundane-yet-still-interesting scenes. Knowing little about the film, I let my mind slip into "ok, this will be a character drama" mode and let it wash over me. Only once the legal drama kicked into high gear did I realize that every line I heard and image I saw was one that would, like the best Hitchcock pictures, later be scrutinized from every possible angle.
Just like real life, no one is all good and no one is all bad. The fascinating experience of watching A Separation is having your allegiances shift so frequently. I'd really like to watch it again with a counter. Now I'm with the religious woman's husband! Now I'm with the daughter! Now I'm with the infuriated judge!
Considering Iran's notorious censorship it is a little surprising that this movie was allowed out of there. From where I'm standing, it promotes a secular lifestyle and lifts the veil on how women are treated like second class citizens. But it does so in a subtle, non-confrontational way. Wisely, it is all about these characters in this situation. Make no mistake: A Separation is juicy, with plenty of high drama mixed in with the philosophical waxing on the lucidity of truth. Maybe the censors were just too caught up in the story to clamp down?
