Women Without Men in 1953 Iran

Visually stunning but short on character development, the film is more photo essay than movie.

Women Without Men - Trailer from IndiePix on Vimeo.

Shirin Neshat and Shoja Azari’s searching and allegorical film Women Without Men (Zanan-e bedun-e mardan) has generated a storm of interest. The student and mass protests following Iran’s June 12, 2009 “stolen elections” and the Islamic Republic’s brutal crackdown on such activism attracted considerable global attention to the plight of the country just as the film began touring major film festivals. Not surprisingly, in its theatrical release, the Iranian filmmakers dedicated the film to “the memory of those who lost their lives in the struggle for freedom and democracy in Iran from the Constitutional Revolution of 1906 to the Green Movement of 2009.”

The film is set against the backdrop of the 1953 CIA-inspired and Shah-supported coup against the democratically elected government of Mohammed Mosaddegh, which happened largely because of his efforts to wrest control of the Iranian oil industry from the British-owned Anglo-American Oil Corporation and nationalize it. For this reason alone, it provides a glimpse into the genesis of contemporary anti-Americanism in Iran, most apparent at the time of the 1979 theocratic revolution and the subsequent hostage-taking, but persisting to this day, most notably in the ongoing outrageous verbiage of current president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

Adapted from the novel of the same name by Shahrnush Parsipur, the film tells the interconnected stories of four women: the suicidal Munis, her friend and confidante Faezeh, the prostitute Zarin, and Fakhri, the estranged wife of the general set to replace Mosaddegh. None can really imagine an existence without the men in their lives or the varieties of life-narrowing non-choices they much face, but at least three of them nonetheless find fleeting companionship in a secluded rural home located in a lush orchard surrounded by a barren and desert-like landscape. Each is constrained in her search for personal freedom, and much can be symbolically read into each of the stories told. In this respect, at least, the film will be much more meaningful to those with at least a passing knowledge of Iranian history in the last century.

Unfortunately, although the cinematography is beautiful with its constant interplay of light and shadow, interior and exterior, the constant repetition of some imagery starts to feel visually didactic. Neshat is a very accomplished and well respected photographer, and probably for this reason the final product feels at times more like a photographic essay than a film.

Moreover, some elements of the narrative exist somewhere between confusing and mystifying. Each of the portrayals is haunting, and an exceptionally powerful performance comes from Hungarian actress Orsolya Tóth, who ably conveys the anguish of her character while never uttering a word throughout the entire film. Nonetheless, the male characters come across as insensitive and one-dimensional, almost as if they are cartoon-like props situated in key moments to make women’s lives more miserable. As patriarchal as we in the self-styled “West” might judge Iran as then or now, surely there is room for more nuance in the character development.

Probably the most tragic element of the film – aside from the narratives of the four women – is that such a story simply could not be imagined, funded, or created in contemporary Iran. Women Without Men is a German-Austrian-French co-production, and both of the filmmakers left their native land. For now, the primary audience will be those living in sizeable Iranian émigré communities abroad – from “Teherangeles” to “Teheranto.”