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Bahman Ghobadi |
Is
it about a man’s familial devotion to his former wife? Or is it about all the
eccentric, comic-tragic, fascinating bit characters the protagonists meet on
their far-fetched journey? Or is it a personal diatribe at a country’s
geopolitical quagmire at the expense of a fictional story? Whatever it is,
Kurdish-Iranian filmmaker Bahman Ghobadi’s Marooned in Iraq works at
many levels to introduce the audience to an unknown landscape as important as
the story that inhabits it.
Indeed,
the backdrop of the film (which opens in New York at the end of April) is
sweeping in a manner that elevates the geography and scenery to the level of a
main character. From the jagged, craggy mountains that line the Iran-Iraq border
to the winter-swept, refugee-camp that dot regions of northern Iraq, the film
plays upon the lay of the land as the truest introduction to life in that
region.
But
it is Ghobadi’s interpretation of that life for the Iranian and Iraqi Kurds
that is a most telling story of dark comedy, fortitude, anger, acceptance and
resilience to the bitter end. We meet Barat, a sort of stoic Evil Knievel who
travels along the border to meet his father, Mirza, and brother, Audeh. Mirza,
an elderly, popular Kurdish singer, informs his sons that they must journey to
Iraq to find his ex-wife Hanareh.
Hanareh,
whose name becomes the plaintive refrain of the movie, left Mirza for his
brother, Seyed, 23 years earlier. Mirza receives words that she is singing for
Kurdish refugees in Iraq and desperately needs his help – for what purpose, or
why is a mystery until the end of the film.
Barat
and Audeh (who mostly complains that he shouldn’t have been forced to come due
to his responsibilities to his seven wives and 13 daughters) grudgingly join
Mirza on his seemingly-impossible task. Their journey is peppered with
intriguing characters and personal goals that are fulfilled in surprising ways.
Mirza
is of a single-minded purpose to find and help Hanareh. But it’s frustrating
that the reasons behind his deep devotion to her (after 23 years of humiliation)
aren’t explored. What is this hold she has on him? Is it just simply that he
still loves her? Or is it a deeper value that if he helps her, he’ll have
helped out his fellow Kurds in some way other than through the gift of his
music? It’s difficult to ascertain.
As
for Audeh and Barat, they also gain something though neither wanted to come on
the search. Audeh, who desperately wants a son, is determined to find an eighth
wife. But at one refugee camp for orphans, he is advised by two young women to
adopt a boy instead of inflicting himself upon more women. The idea appeals to
him, and he parts company with Mirza and Barat to focus on the adoption.
Barat
meets a young woman with a beautiful singing voice earlier in the film. He
instantly falls in love and proposes marriage. But the unknown lady rejects him
after he tells her she may not sing in public. Later he finds her again at the
site of a Kurdish mass grave searching for the body of her brother. Mirza
advises Barat to stay behind and help her.
Each
man’s individual voyage emphasizes the unpredictability of the land and how
goals are achieved in ways unplanned and unknown. Though it seems they are
wandering aimlessly through the barren countryside, the three men always stumble
upon some clue, some village, some camp, someone who points them in another
bizarre direction. The environment itself – with its harsh weather conditions
– is the best marker for the controlled absurdity the Iraqi Kurds deal with.
With
all they have to endure (poverty, sickness, persecution and the like), they
still manage to live, and live with shreds of humor and dignity at that.
Ghobadi’s deep attachment to the Kurdish people is evident in his full-figured
approach to their lives. Neither does he paint a completely bleak existence nor
a completely manipulated one. Humor is a staple in Marooned in Iraq, and
for good reason.
In
a previous interview, Ghobadi said humor is the new weapon used by the Kurds:
“They wear it on their weary bodies and minds to survive the hardships
better.” Perhaps that is the greatest gift the audience receives – that
there is always a way handle life without losing all hope and faith.
Marooned
in Iraq (Kurdish, with English subtitles) opens in New York on April 25th. It won the Gold Plaque at
the 2002 Chicago International Film Festival.
