

It feels rare to watch a film that centres itself on female friendship. This seems to be an important element in this gentle drama, an underlying message about the persistence of community.
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It feels rare to watch a film that centres itself on female friendship. This seems to be an important element in this gentle drama, an underlying message about the persistence of community.
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It felt like I was entering the same kind of world as Past Future Continuous but with a much more authentic pay off.
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I felt duty bound to see this film by Mahnaz Mohammadi, supporting the sisterhood by going to see a film that said from the outset that it was about a woman being tortured in an Iranian prison.
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It was with a small amount of trepidation that I saw this latest from one of my favourite directors Asghar Farhadi (or as Facebook autocaptioning calls him, Glasgow Harvey).
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Oh, I feel conflicted about this documentary. I was going along with it for quite a while, even forgiving some things that didn’t quite make sense – were there no neighbours who could drop in or answer a phone call? – but a growing unease left me feeling cheated.
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This is a tricksy, slightly surreal drama that may have had more impact on me if it wasn’t 9:30 pm and the fourth film of my day.
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This is one of those deeply upsetting documentaries where you are watching the viciousness and callousness when patriarchy is challenged play out in a rural Iranian village.
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I think this one is going to be polarising. Judging by the impassioned conversations I had with fellow MIFF goers after the film, I can see there are many different takes on its confronting structure and content.
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One thing to try not to miss at film festivals is the rare films that don’t get any other platform for viewing. Narva Marbili’s The Sealed Soil is one of these, touted as the oldest surviving Iranian film directed by a woman.
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