I Comme Iran, I Comme Iran

How can one talk about Iran today? How can you do it when you left Iran as a child and the Persian language is now completely foreign to you? Sanaz Azari answers these questions with somewhat philosophical simplicity. In a classroom somewhere in Belgium, she is learning how to read and write in her mother tongue. There is a textbook from the time of the Islamic revolution on her desk. In front of her, there is a black board, on which the teacher, a grey-haired Iranian, exiled as well, carefully traces words and sentences which are far from trivial. “Dad doesn’t give bread, because there is no work” is written on the board. Out of these words deciphered with much effort, and these images stuck in time, something much wider appears. This is the method Sanaz Azari has chosen, in all modesty, in order to address the revolution. The choice of a subjective camera puts us right next to her, as pupils, watchful of the tiniest details, all ears to what the teacher has to say about the 1979 events or the good wine from Shiraz. His intimate relationship with Iran, his remorse and nostalgia contrast with the hesitations, the laborious perseverance and the distant memories of the director, who tries to make her way towards a country she doesn’t really know. Her path is difficult and tortuous, just like the path of the revolution itself, but in this case the mouse might labour and bring forth a mountain. (CG)