A hulking mass of weathered oil tanker stands like a lone
figure in the middle of the sea. From golden sunsets to sapphire-colored sea,
the environment changes throughout day and night, emitting different shades of
natural beauty. But the impoverished inhabitants who dwell inside this abandoned
oil tanker lead a monotonous life, filled with poverty, punishment, and
oppression. The deftly polarizing, ironical setting is the foremost interesting aspect
of Iranian film-maker Mohammad Rasoulof’s second feature-film Iron Island
(Jazireh ahani, 2005). Barring few scenes unfolding in the arid landscape, the majority of
narrative takes place inside a decommissioned oil tanker, resting off the
Persian Gulf Coast. Despite such a narrow focus for a narrative set-up,
director Rasoulof gradually introduces us to wider and rich social tapestry of
subjects living inside the rusty ship so that the ‘iron island’ becomes a
microcosm of parochial nation-states. Iron Island could be viewed as political
allegory about the tensions in Iran’s treatment of minorities (Sunni Arabs) and
its destitute population. However, Mohammad Rasoulof avoids heightened drama
for humanist observation to transcend the narrative into a potent allegory for
the corruptible nature of absolute power.
The film opens in a dark cavity of the old ship as a young
man named Ahmad (Hossein Farzi-Zadeh) carries a love letter to a young girl’s
tiny living quarters. Next day, when the ship’s benevolent Dictator Captain
Nemat (Ali Nassirian) –a old man with piercing eyes and gray mustache -- boards
the ship (from his motorboat), he sees Ahmad and the girl’s brother fighting
off each other. The Captain warns Ahmad to forget the girl and that he is an
unworthy suitor. Later, the Captain brings a new family to the ship and
introduces them (& viewers) to the rich social life flowing within the
rust-bucket of a ship. There’s make-shift apartment blocks, workstations for
boys and men to salvage the metallic parts and oil from the ship, a small
classroom whose resident schoolteacher is convinced that the ship is slowly
sinking. At every turn, Nemat is stopped by the residents demanding flour,
medicine or to take care of the plumbing and electrical problems. The Captain
smoothly speaks in different set of dialectics, noting down all the expenses in
his account book. He sees a silver-lining in everything, partly because he has
to hide the immediate chaos waiting for these poor residents. The tanker’s
owner has sold the ship, which means that the people have to leave the floating
island. It’s only a matter of time before their struggle for survival turns much
bleaker.
In March 2010, Jafar Panahi, Mohammad Rasoulof and 17 other
Iranian directors were arrested for allegedly making a film in support of
pro-reform Green Movement. In December the same year, the two film-makers were
sentenced to six years in prison and awarded 20 year film-making ban (including
a ban on talking to foreign press and travel ban). After the international
outcry, the Iranian authorities lessened their sentences, although the
film-makers’ activities were closely scrutinized. Mohammad Rasoulof may not be
an instantly recognizable name among cinephiles compared with Mohsen Makhmalbaf or
Panahi. But he is definitely a great Iranian film-maker, who profoundly deals with
sociopolitical crisis, plaguing the contemporary Muslim world or the so-called
third world countries. Rasoulof is adept at mixing his allegories with a
humanist narrative so that it easily passes off the establishment’s censors and
remains less controversial. After a brief period of exile, Mr. Rasoulof
returned back to Iran, fervently dealing with social themes by using a subdued,
lyrical visual language (his 2013 film Manuscripts Don’t Burn is a excellent
slow-burn political drama; the director's latest film Dregs won Un Certain Regard Prize at this year's Cannes Film Festival).
The biggest strength of Iron Island is Captain Nemat’s
characterization and Ali Nasirian’s performance in the chief role (his acting
credits go back to Darius Mehrjui’s 1969 masterpiece The Cow). The captain is as
enigmatic and multi-faceted like the authoritative-gentlemanly ruler of a
country. He treats young rebellious guy Ahmad as a surrogate son. Yet, when his
authority is threatened, the Captain exacts cruel punishment on Ahmad in front
of the public eyes (just like a twisted despot). Rasoulof maintains an
ambiguity in the Captain’s actions. He looks both as a masterful manipulator
and merciful protector. The director’s decision to avoid passing judgment on
Captain Nemat keeps away didactic resolutions and allows viewers to bring their
own interpretations. Mohammad Rasoulof's total command over the visual texture
unearths powerful emotions within us. He often juxtaposes the image of lone
ship, standing under bright skies with the bleak, rusted interiors of the ship,
echoing the invisible nature of these poor people in the social stratification
ladder. The slow-motion photography is used to great effects in the scene young men pushing down half-filled barrels of oil into the ocean and jump inside,
swimming alongside the barrels to the shore.
Director Rasoulof also offer symbolic touches through simple
objects like a tied-up kite, chalk molded in bullet casings, metallic junk and
battery-powered TVs. The director uses certain members of the impoverished
community to provide beautiful visionary touches. For example, the old man
constantly peers over the horizon looking for an unspecified thing and a smart
boy who catches fish in the ship’s flooded parts and then tosses them back into the
ocean. These two minor characters (along with other unknown members of the
vessel) stands-in for the strong will of the exploited people, who keep on surviving despite the looming, hopeless situation. The final ambiguous shots of the minorities and
poor trudging on the dry landscape remains as an elegiac poem for all the
minorities and oppressed of the world, constantly kept in a state of migration.
Trailer
Iron Island (90 minutes) is a must watch Iranian cinema for
its potent commentary on the nature of totalitarian power and subjugation of
people, according to religious and social status. The utter lack of
sentimental pitfalls turns this film into a haunting and unforgettable social
critique.
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