LEILA and THE TERRORIST by Chris Dashiell

Although he is practically unknown in the States, Dariush Mehrjui is the grand old man of Iranian cinema - making challenging, relevant films since the 60s. LEILA, his latest work, shows an engagement with issues of women's lives that is surprisingly adult. The state-imposed strictures on content have produced a glut of Iranian films about children, a state of things that can only continue so long before artistic stagnation sets in. Mehrjui has resisted this trend, and it's no surprise that his films have been suppressed more than once. Leila is a powerful breakthrough, a great film about the oppression of women, both external and internal.

The beautiful Leila (Leila Hatami) is apparently the perfect match for the handsome and wealthy Reza (Ali Mosaffa). They adore each other and share a relaxed, playful friendship as well. But after they are married, it is discovered that Leila cannot have children. She is ashamed and grief-stricken. Reza insists that he doesn't care. He only wants her for herself. Yet he is an only child, and his mother, concerned lest he not carry on the family name, asks Leila to agree to a divorce. When it becomes clear that Leila won't agree to that, Reza's mother asks her to assent to his taking a second wife. Torn by a sense of failure, and sensing that her husband really wants a child despite his protests, she agrees to the proposal. From there things proceed inexorably - Leila's instinct for self-punishment combining with Reza's mixed signals to create an ever deepening distress.

By not portraying the husband as a pig, Mehrjui ensures that the drama is more penetrating. Reza is sincere in his love, and means it when he says he loves Leila for herself. But he is also unable to resist the pressures of his mother, who represents a traditional way of thinking about marriage and family, and his passive acquiescence actually amounts to complicity. This is the essence of his tragedy. Leila's story, the film's center, is even more poignant. She has internalized so much shame about being a woman that she finds it impossible to resist the social pressures that are exerted on her, yet at the same time her spirit is too strong and vibrant to merely accept what is happening.

It is one of the film's beautiful touches that the stress of these traditional values is expressed through modernity - namely the telephone, of which the constant ringing signals another intrusion by the mother or other meddling relatives. I found myself saying, "Don't pick up the phone!" but of course Leila and Reza can't avoid their family, their environment, their culture, and one of them must pick up the phone.

Hatami is fine in the title role. Mehrjui employs a lot of close- ups. The silent agony of Leila's face is meant to stand for a lot. At times he relies on this motif too much. But her face does have an inward expressiveness that comes across very strongly.

The film maintains a steady, determined pace, Mehrjui carefully detailing each stage of the path with heartbreaking precision. His interest is not in making some didactic point, but in depicting the gradual development of a destructive process in a marriage. The director has taken the time to really let us know these people, the way they think and talk, and also the things they don't say. The couple, their parents and siblings and friends, the city of Tehran itself with its mixture of ancient and modern, are all portrayed so carefully that each turn in the story makes absolute sense, right up to the remarkable, utterly convincing end.

THE TERRORIST is about another woman in extremis. This time the story is more sensational, the style less subtle. But the film has its own special rewards.

The story takes place in India, during some brutal, unspecified regional conflict. Malli (Ayesha Dharkar) is a 19-year-old girl who has seen her family killed by government soldiers. She is part of a guerrilla army, a fanatic in the cause. With an iron determination to help her people, and nothing left to lose, she volunteers for the ultimate mission. She is to assassinate a prominent politician in a suicide bombing.

The movie, directed by Santosh Sivan, is a harrowing journey of decision. We follow her as she is led through the jungle by a young boy to a rendezvous with a ship, and later to her revolutionary contacts who will train her in the mission. All the while, flashbacks detail the terrible losses that have led her this far. Then, as Malli hides out on a farm waiting for the time when she will die, the desire to live - exemplified by her garrulous host, a simple farmer, and some unexpected events - begins to weaken her resolve. The fillm's tension becomes extreme in its final third, as the forces of life and death struggle within her. This is one of those great stories where you really don't know what's going to happen, and you just have to find out.

Sivan's style can be a bit melodramatic. Music is sometimes employed too insistently to create mood. The Terrorist is nevertheless a remarkable picture Sivan is very good at using natural imagery, especially water, to portray the inner world of his fanatical heroine. (A veteran cinematographer, he shot the film himself and the visuals are marvelous.) Dharkar has an unusual face, both strikingly beautiful and disturbing in its earthiness. There is a lot of extreme close-up, so that we are made to feel as if projected into this girl's intense mind.

There is some excess here, but it's in the service of more than a story. Sivan wants us to experience being on the edge of life and death, the decision to end life hanging over the action like the shadow of mortality itself, making the things of this world more vivid and precious in the brilliance of the moment which will soon expire. He pulls it off brilliantly. The Terrorist works as a thriller, and also as a meditation on the deepest conflicts within ourselves.

 

CineScene, 2000