The movie opens with a furious argument among the couple Nahid and Masoud, heard over a dark screen. They are visitors in the country house of Sharareh (Nahid's sister) and her husband Kamran. They storm out the house, and their car's headlights reveal for a moment a bedroom where Arshia, their preadolescent son, is unsuccessfully trying to sleep. Arshia, who seems to be no stranger to his parents' bickering finds refuge under the covers. The next scene is the morning after, and we learn that Nahid and Masoud have been killed in a car accident.
Sharareh and Kamran are both deaf. They communicate with each other using sign language, gestures and occasionally mouthing words so that the other can lipread. They also communicate with other people talking, although they have problems making themselves understood (this is humorously shown when Kamran is trying to get help for his stalled car). For the rest of the movie, besides some road incidents and contacts with policemen, repairmen and fellow travelers, we witness the interaction of the couple and Arshia. They drive him back to Tehran where he used to live with his parents. He faces an uncertain future, and the couple have not told him the truth. They discuss Arshia's options believing that he does not understand; in fact Arshia probably suspects the truth from the beginning, can decipher gestures and claims he can do a bit of lipreading. From the couple's conversations we get hints of their past and present problems and choices as well as of Sharareh's relationship with her sister.
Out of this outwardly meager material, director Morteza Farshbaf has assembled a minimalist masterpiece. There is no God's eye view; what we see is what we get, and the rest we imagine. We never see Nahid and Masoud, even in a photograph, or learn the details of their accident. There is a striking panoramic shot of Kamran's car driving on a dusty, winding country road, and we "hear" the couple's conversation in subtitles. The ending is open; nothing has been solved and even greater problems loom. Acting is first rate, and this movie seems to be the only credit for Sharareh Pasha (Sharareh). Kiomars Giti (Kamran) and Amir Hossein Maleki (Arshia). The script by Anahita Ghazvinizadeh is precise and spare, avoids excess sentimentality and carries forward the story at a steady pace. Cinematography by Hamid Ahmadi captures the feeling of rural Iran, both landscapes and people.
Sharareh and Kamran are both deaf. They communicate with each other using sign language, gestures and occasionally mouthing words so that the other can lipread. They also communicate with other people talking, although they have problems making themselves understood (this is humorously shown when Kamran is trying to get help for his stalled car). For the rest of the movie, besides some road incidents and contacts with policemen, repairmen and fellow travelers, we witness the interaction of the couple and Arshia. They drive him back to Tehran where he used to live with his parents. He faces an uncertain future, and the couple have not told him the truth. They discuss Arshia's options believing that he does not understand; in fact Arshia probably suspects the truth from the beginning, can decipher gestures and claims he can do a bit of lipreading. From the couple's conversations we get hints of their past and present problems and choices as well as of Sharareh's relationship with her sister.
Out of this outwardly meager material, director Morteza Farshbaf has assembled a minimalist masterpiece. There is no God's eye view; what we see is what we get, and the rest we imagine. We never see Nahid and Masoud, even in a photograph, or learn the details of their accident. There is a striking panoramic shot of Kamran's car driving on a dusty, winding country road, and we "hear" the couple's conversation in subtitles. The ending is open; nothing has been solved and even greater problems loom. Acting is first rate, and this movie seems to be the only credit for Sharareh Pasha (Sharareh). Kiomars Giti (Kamran) and Amir Hossein Maleki (Arshia). The script by Anahita Ghazvinizadeh is precise and spare, avoids excess sentimentality and carries forward the story at a steady pace. Cinematography by Hamid Ahmadi captures the feeling of rural Iran, both landscapes and people.