Told through nine vignettes over the course of a day in Tehran, Terrestrial Verses follows ordinary citizens navigating the increasingly absurd constraints of living and working in Iran.
Iran’s film history is rich. It has gone through many waves of revered and highly influential filmmakers since the coup of 1953, one that has caused unfathomable damage thanks to once again, the US and British Empire needing to fuck everything up. But I digress, what has sprouted over all the years since are some of THE greatest filmmakers the medium has ever seen, continuing to create art with remarkable ease despite the insurmountable restrictions placed upon them. It’s no secret that Iran’s regime is unwavering in its cruelty - towards women, religion, the death penalty and many other things that impede on basic human rights.
Despite these film movements being influenced by western styles and storytelling techniques, they still remain distinctly Iranian. Influenced most notably by Italian Neo-realism, Iranian films usually follow the every man, often portrayed by non-actors, showcasing just what the Iranian experience is really like. These artists have always risen up from social and political discourse, finding ways to tell their stories that often has its greatest voices imprisoned, exiled and/or threatened with death by the regime who looks to silence them. Unfortunately, these obstacles remain a common occurrence, with one vignette in the film following a filmmaker's meeting with a government censor. It is why Iran is home to some of the most genuinely brave and subversive storytellers on the planet. Their films are not only artful in appearance, but above all, truthful. It’s one of my favourite countries to mine for films and literature because of this. It’s a nation that despite its shitty authoritarian government, consistently produces the most incredible art, showcasing the most resilient and incredible individuals who are willing to lay everything down to make their voices heard. The 2022 women's rights marches are a testament to this spirit.
Terrestrial Verses is brief but powerful. Despite its modest run time of 77 minutes, it packs punches. Nine vignettes following nine individuals caught in the rusty gears of its government and the archaic ideals it imposes on its people. A man is told he cannot name his child David. A woman has her car taken away from her for allegedly removing her hijab while driving. A man has to demonstrate how one washes before prayers in order to get a construction job. A man is forced to reveal his tattoos with the hopes of getting his driver’s license. A woman answers inappropriate questions in a job interview. Some of these may be exaggerated for darkly comedic and dramatic effect, but it’s nevertheless effective in driving its points home: these are familiar situations in our lives, but in Iran, they are fraught with absurdity and oppression. Each vignette’s humour springs from this absurdity, before culminating in humiliating defeats to the faceless voices from behind the camera, inflicting its petty cruelty on our subjects as a means to control and retain power.
The film’s visual style amplifies its impact. Each vignette (with the exception to one), is at a 1:33:1 aspect ratio, a stationary camera that focuses solely on its subject, never revealing the voice behind the camera—the bully imposing their will on the people. It’s stylised and exaggerated, and although it doesn’t sport the neo-realism that is such a strong characteristic of Iranian cinema, it remains as powerful and effective as some of its greatest works. A great portrait captures its subject at a specific point in time, but as you sit with that image, you uncover more layers to who they are through a simple expression that will range from happiness to sadness to rage to content (and everything else in between). And that’s what these are, portraits of not only its subjects but Iran as a whole. Ones that fluctuate in said absurdity before ruminating into a reluctant defeat to the looming shadow of its oppressor. One of the film’s most poignant vignettes features a little girl, dressed in a Mickey Mouse top and cat ear headphones, dancing freely. Her joy is quickly suppressed as she dons a school uniform, with each piece of heavy clothing restricting more of her personality. It’s not subtle by any means, but its impact is undeniable. These portraits reveal the layers of each character before grinding them to dust, moving on to the next. After all, this is Iran.
Iran remains a rich hub for truthful, courageous filmmaking. And although Terrestrial Verses is more stylised and exaggerated in tone vs. the usually more gritty, neo-realism that Iranian cinema has become known for, it remains just as powerful as its counterparts - anchoring its absurdity in a reality that is somehow both familiar and unfamiliar, collecting and stacking the frustrating grains of hope lodged in each portrait before mounting into a colossal avalanche that will hopefully bring the whole beast down for good.
Where you can watch it: The Criterion Channel (USA), most VOD platforms (USA).
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