What’s that stuff that goes in when you’ve got nothing left to say? You know, those couple extra sentences that push your paper just into the range of acceptable length, the triple playback of that spectacular inferno that our hero has barely removed himself from, and in the nick of time too. Such redundancy could possibly be termed as supplementary; it serves only to reiterate a point. Or perhaps it serves only as fluff.
One would think that plot that revolves around a pair of missing shoes would need a whole lot of fluff – say eighty minutes worth. It seems too simple to carry through and too minor to offer any significance, but the Iranian Children of Heaven’s director and screenwriter Majid Majidi exposes an entire existence that emerges from this seemingly innocuous story-line, and not once does it feel as though the plot is stretched too thin. He takes a precedent evocative of a Pixar short and weaves it into a strangely believable story about how things should be. A child’s naïve conceptions about what it takes to be happy – a piece of candy, soap bubbles, a pair of brand new, pink leather shoes – are infinitely more satisfying that the complex goals an older individual sets for his self. Yes, I’ll be the first to admit that Children of Heaven is a movie that is foremost about the replacement of a young girl’s shoes, but it presents so much more than that. Maybe sometimes you have to believe that something can be simple and meaningful.
That simplicity is something that doesn’t quite work in Hollywood anymore. It’s odd that great special effects, carefully orchestrated action scenes, and convincing stuntmen are what it takes to make a movie “realistic.” I know that I’m guilty of the attraction. Watching Amir Farrokh Hashemian’s (Ali) face, however, as he tells his sister the bad news, seeing the tears spill over onto their cheeks, that is about as sincere as it gets. It’s somewhat disappointing that we have to turn to foreign films for a “real” experience, but completely understandable. I, for one, cringe when I imagine a younger Dakota Fanning standing in Bahare Seddiqi’s (Zahra) place.
Frankly, I’d be surprised if the foreignness of the film wasn’t half the draw. It’s so rare to see something different, so completely alien that we hesitate to make connections. It’s a strange structure of familiarity and disconnect that Majidi has wrought for a non-Iranian audience. We’re not strangers to keeping secrets to avert ourselves from a parent’s rightful anger, so Ali’s shame resonates with us. At the same time, the very relationship between the children and their elders is so different from what we identify with. Watch Ali’s hesitance in pressing his teacher for the chance to race; if he wasn’t desperate, you can tell he would not dare to make those demands. But even though we don’t go for the “speak only when spoken to” rules of old, it is so easy to slip into Ali’s mind frame and congratulate him on a conquest that does not exist in our culture (to the same degree, at least).
Actually, the thing that gets to me about foreign films is that the cultural connotations and innuendos all go over a stranger’s proverbial head. In Children of Heaven you get so completely inside Ali’s head that you understand his motives and the context of his struggles without ever being condescended with an explanation. The story and the message are always very clear: hey, the first time I saw it was without subtitles.
So watch closely because everything you need to know is right on the screen.
Arshia Sandozi
Guest commentator
