Review: Iran's "Baher, Her Mind" going viral

REVIEW: Baher, Her Mind (short)

Director: Hassan Akhondpour

Prod co: Paya Film Toos

Iran, 25 minutes

Hassan Akhondpour’s debut short is already making waves across the Middle East, with over two million shares and scores of discussions generated since its May 19 premiere at the Cannes Short Film Corner. Told in 25 minutes and without dialogue, Baher: Her Mind is a journey into the psyche of our protagonist —whose name we never hear spoken out loud— convinced her husband is having an affair. As she is drawn in deeper to an apparent conspiracy her grasp on reality weakens as she is tempted by strange symbols and cyptic pictograms on the backs of cards.

As much as these cues might implore a conventional psych-horror protagonist to seize the day in the quest to uncover the truth, we are in Iran in this film and women –even the educated — must live much of their public lives as passive participants in the shadows of men. Baher’s existence soon turns into a melodramatic nightmare vision where flashes of her own perception quickly vanish as the firm male hand on the reins steers her in yet another direction. She is lost within her own head even as she’s shuttled from setting to setting in the city. Baher and the “other woman” spend much of their time travelling through this soft focus dream world in the back seats of cars, free to let their suspicious minds wander.

Akhondpour’s depiction of the trance-like existence of his protagonist will undoubtedly broaden’s Baher’s appeal, making it instantly relatable to those in other countries where women exist as second-class citizens. In his director’s statement he speaks up against the subjugation of women.

Where free expression is risky and dangerous, people find ways to communicate in subtle cues – a gaze, a wink, a turn of the face. We have to read between the lines and enter a dreamlike nonverbal realm. Mahtab Keramati, who plays Baher, handles this task well with a cool composure broken up by evocative stares communicating a multitude of emotions. Akhondpour connects these aesthetically poised moments well.

Baher finds a card with a steaming coffee cup embossed on it in gold, leading her to a series of clues that eventually bring her face to face with her fate at the bottom of a coffee cup.

Iranian cinema has commanded increased international attention ever since Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation took home the Oscar for best foreign-language film in 2012. The need to pass government classification in order to be released—with restrictions on sexual content, violence and other script elements—pushes filmmakers to try and be as creative as possible within these constraints.

Any regime of censorship contains the seeds of its own demise. The scene of Baher floating through the pool meets all the requirements of modesty, but at the same time is impossibly impractical. She’s weighed down by all the garments that obstruct her movement and vision. And the absurdity of the norms on women’s dress is made clear. Even as the march of modern life and reform movements causes the power of strict sexual mores and conservative theology to wane, the psychological imprint of being a subjugated creature still leaves a haunting echo in those who live it. It’s easy to see why Baher is going viral across the Middle East. Akhondpour’s debut short brings out a predicament that many of his viewers will recognize around them.