MORTFILMS

‘The film Iran didn’t want the world to see’ is the tagline Persepolis truthfully parades. The edge of a banned film is always interesting to viewers, though this film wasn’t banned because of excessive violence, graphic gore, or plentiful amounts of sex scenes, as most ‘outlawed movies’ are. Persepolis, the famously banned film – based on the famously banned autobiographical graphic novel by co-director Marjane Satrapi – is unfit for consumption in Iran not because of any extremity in the film’s brutality or nudity, but rather for its ‘extremity’ in speaking against the Iranian government, going against the grain as it were.  

Much like the book, we follow a young Marjane growing up during, and after, the Iranian revolution. For context, the 1979 Iranian revolution overthrew the Shah Pahlavi and toppled the monarchistic government – of course for those typical reasons of a strive for freedom and social equity – leading to the incubation of the Islamic Republic of Iran, headed by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. As seen in the film, monarchistic rule was certainly flawed and corrupt with rampant economic inequality, alongside the shift towards Western ideals in Iran at the time alienating many, perhaps causing them to lose a sense of national identity. After the revolution, Iran moved with a fundamentalist view – yes, the stereotypical images of an anti-Western, oppressive theocratic authoritarian state are seen, and through this depiction of post-revolution Iran, we gain a sense of the country’s new landscape. One that no longer sidelined religion but prioritised it – above all else and by all means. In talking about such a sensitive and divisive topic, it is difficult to not revert to the means of comparison; it is very easy to say, ‘Well, the Shah’s dictatorship was better than the Islamic Republic’s…’, but in discussing the revolution, we need to acknowledge there is no paradise. Both systems were extremely flawed and repressive, forcing cruelty upon the Iranian population; this is merely factual, and when both sides are full of negatives, it is hard not to (with our trained optimist minds, of course) look for positives in one system that faults the other. Both were extremely complex, as are the issues presented by them. Both hold a degree of accountability in worsening the lives of Iranians – It really just boils down to if you would rather a Westernised dictatorship or an Islamic dictatorship. As a Western audience member, it is both a blessing and a curse to view this film and its depiction of Iran as an outsider – an observer. Religious fundamentalism is shocking in the film, both in its brutality and harshness but partly in ignoring all the values of religious freedom and liberalism engraved in the Western mindset. On whether these and the other values of Western society, or Western ‘decadence’ (I’m talking capitalism, consumerism, individualism, and – of course – rock n’ roll) are necessarily ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is an interesting point of discussion and really depends on each viewer’s personal ideologies; therefore, there is naturally no ‘right’, certainly no unanimous, answer. Personally, I take a more humanist view towards the topic of religious fundamentalism, in that it violates the autonomous freedom of groups by forcing religion upon them; therefore, rejection and perhaps revolt are necessary in securing the human need for freedom (groundbreaking stuff, I know). But in analysing Persepolis, and therefore analysing the authoritarian rule of two government systems, it is important to acknowledge any bias one has – especially an embedded sense of Western ethnocentrism. While it is almost inevitable that bias will occur, we can at least be honest about it, even if we can’t change it.

As Marjane grows up, she and her family rebel against the oppressive government. She dons small amounts of make-up, listens to outlawed music through black-market methods, and wears Nike shoes – of course, a Western brand and therefore a showcase of Western decadence. Her family exhibits similar defiance; they frequently drink and party, and Marjane, her mother, and her outspoken grandmother often ‘forget’ to wear their hijabs when not in the public eye. Rebellion is somewhat valued by her peers, but it depends on the level of religious obedience of each and every person. As her Uncle Anoosh returns from prison and a family friend harbours a fugitive, we gain a sense that defiance is not safe; of course, it never is. As Uncle Anoosh (voiced by Iggy Pop in the English dub – whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?) is captured and killed, Marjane and the audience are confronted with the harsh reality of the situation. To not obey – smoke, drink, party, express alternative views, and dress inappropriately – is to sign your will letter by letter. Defiance is natural – as humans wish to be free, sometimes their only option is rebellion – but it comes at a deadly cost. Amidst all of this (just when matters couldn’t get any worse!), Marjane’s neighbour’s house is bombed by Iraqi troops, killing the residents. At this, and the fear of Marjane’s potential arrest due to her outspokenly intelligent and rebellious nature, Marjane’s parents decide it would be safer for her to be separated from Iran and arrange for her to spend her young adulthood in Austria.

As Marjane leaves her family at Tehran Airport, she is sent to Vienna – first living with her mother’s friend, then in a Catholic boarding house run by nuns – and finds herself equally out of place amongst Western society. A Westerner in Iran and an Iranian in the West (of course, Marjane experiences some of the usual presumption and racism directed towards those from the Middle East in Europe), Persepolis details a few key elements. Immediately, we can gather the harsh conditions refugees and others who have faced the tribulations of war suffer, treated – on the surface very kindly, and the genuine support and compassion of others should not be neglected – but are ultimately left alone and isolated, both from their old home and their supposed new one. As Marjane grows up in Austria, it can be argued she disconnects somewhat from her Iranian identity, even instead referring to herself as ‘French’ at one point. I also think this part of the film highlights the personal struggle of Marjane interwoven within the wider conflicts around her. I think the film makes evident the eventual breaking of Marjane’s personality; as she grows up, the rebellious sentiments of her youth become even less feasible. She finds herself constantly straining to gain a sense of her own identity – of course, with so much time spend on just trying to survive oppresive regime and wartime it is hard to construct yourself and build a sense of identity in the way we imagine most teenagers do; the rebellious aspect of her personality shapes a sense of that, but in a way it takes over, partly because it has to for Marjane to survive, but I would argue it somewhat consumes her formative years, perhaps leaving her with an ‘imbalance’ of relatable experiences and attributes to share among her peers, unfortunately creating a natural rift between her and her peers – and is constantly being swapped between carers, alienated by ‘friends’, and mistreated by both her boyfriends and strangers alike. This builds, messily and despairingly (as the girl can’t seem to catch a bloody break!), eventually leading to Marjane’s spell of depression and suicide attempt. In what I observed to be a touching testament to the potential power of religion – though I may be misinterpreting this, as perhaps I have misinterpreted the entire film – God appears to Marjane in a dream, insisting that she is not yet ready to die, and her time in our troubled world isn’t over. Things look up for Marjane: she attends university and meets a new boyfriend there, what seems to be a true underdog/comeback moment for the audience, especially with that ‘Eye of the Tiger’ montage. But as always in the world of Persepolis, and in real life (of course as an autobiographical piece that reflection of real events is a focus), the perceived moments of happiness and prosperity are met with human error and controversy. Equally, the seemingly continuous moments of despair and tyranny are taken with an edge of positivity, rebellion, familial strength, and humour, mostly. In a pivotal moment, Marjane lies to a police officer to avoid arrest for wearing make-up by scapegoating a nearby man, prompting her grandmother to express her disappointment in the deceitful action. In lecturing Marjane (I know, I know, lectures from older family members about how much wrong you have done are normally painfully boring and useless – but this one works!) Her grandmother reminds Marjane of the integrity and freedom her family members, her uncle and her grandfather, died for. This prompts an absolutely brilliant scene, where Marjane challenges the sexism and extreme double standards the university she attends exhibits. This part of the film is an integral moment for me, a complete showcase of Marjane’s journey of defiance expressed in a powerful critique.

The film ends with Marjane leaving Iran, however. More neat stories would perhaps have Marjane continue to defy the clutches of the fundamentalist state in increasingly drastic ways, continuously solving societal inequalities on the way. But Persepolis is not neat. It’s hard to critique it for not being neat, partly because it’s based on real events, so the depiction of chaos is honest and true to the source. The other half is because the film’s refusal to tie everything in a nice bow is immensely reflective of life. As Marjane leaves Iran, she reflects on her family; her mother refuses the notion of her returning, and her grandmother passes away soon after (at least in the film version). Marjane’s reflection represents her acceptance, as she moves to fully embrace and understand the complexities of the history of both her family and her country. Finally, as the audience is taken to the present, we see Marjane enter a taxi. The driver enquires as to where Marjane is from, to which she simply answers ‘Iran’. The evident juxtaposition to her earlier neglection of her Iranian identity emphasises her acceptance and her shift in maturity into adulthood. As she finally acknowledges her nationality and its intertwined nature with her personality and family, she can address herself and others honestly. Acceptance is key to this film, but it is a complicated issue. In accepting one’s history, in accepting the country or landscape in which one lives, it connotes a lack of action. We should try to think beyond that in our analysis of Persepolis; acceptance here means awareness. Awareness of the issues, and their complexity, around Marjane is ultimately achieved. We do not know (well, we can do because she is a real person… but in the context of the narrative…) what the character will do next, but it is wholly reasonable to assume it will be with both values of acceptance and awareness. Marjane answers ‘Iran’, regardless of any connotations or personal history brought with the word – with her identity – she answers with total acceptance and awareness, even pride perhaps. 

Thank you for reading.