Some World Cinema.

Downpour (1972), directed by Braham Beyzale. Goodbye Mr. Hekmati. This Iranian film tells the bittersweet story of a young teacher who arrives at a new place and new school. The film opens with his arrival at the place where he will live, and among other belongings he brings books, a lamp, and a mirror. The books make it into his room, but the mirror and the lamp (sorry, but M. H. Abrams comes to mind) are broken before they can enter the new dwelling. Later the books will tumble from their shelves. The signs are not good, and Mr. Hekmati will have a rough time in his new job among new neighbours and new colleagues. He will also meet a young seamstress who catches his fancy. For her part, the young seamstress, Atie, has a suitor, a bullish butcher by the name of Rahim. Rahim and Hekmati become rivals, and there is an amusing sequence in which Hekmati tries to transform from the 99 pound weakling he is into someone who can take on Rahim in a fight. Late in the film, we have a night of drinking end in a funny fight between these two rivals. The film has humour and also sadness. It also has a gaggle of likeable kids who come through when it is most necessary. The kids’ show of affection for Mr. Hekmati is double-edged; it gives Mr. Hekmati his just recognition for single-handedly restoring the school assembly hall and stage, and it also precipitates his transfer away from the school and area. Thus, the film ends with a reversal of its beginning, the cart with Mr. Hekmati’s belongings now departing. Visually, the film has a few striking compositions, and we can see shades of neo-realist films, plus the influence of Kurosawa. 

 

Chess of the Wind (1976), directed by Mohammad Reza Aslani. Image and, after the 1920s, sound are the essence of cinema, and Chess of the Wind is a film of image and sound. It does have a doozie of a plot, but the visual sumptuousness and haunting sound are at the forefront of this examination of decadence. Long lost, the film was rediscovered in 2014 when the director’s son found it in a junk shop in Tehran. What a find. For those in the west, the film plays out as an exercise in the gothic with its action taking place inside a large and luxurious house with its wheelchair-bound matriarch who wields a mean thing-a-ma-bob with deadly force. Or does she? Punctuating the action inside this luxurious house is a repeated shot of local women washing clothes at a fountain in front of the mansion. These women serve as a sort of Greek chorus, commenting on the lives of the rich. The plot gives us a number of people circling the matriarch in hopes of acquiring her wealth. No one is particularly pleasant. The film was banned by the Islamic Republic, and it is easy to see why. This is a devastating critique of a social system that insists on hierarchy, and that functions on greed and corruption and even violence. Its target may be the Pahlevis dynasty in Iran, but the critique covers that which came before as well as that which came after. Most impressive for me is Aslani’s painterly sensibility manifested in the colour and compositions. The actors are also impressive, especially Fahkri Khorvash as the paraplegic Lady Junior. We are lucky to have had this film survive.

Lucia (1968), directed by Humberto Solas. This film is a product of the Cuban Revolution. It has three parts, each part giving us a different Lucia, a woman (or women) who chronicle Cuban history from the late 19^th century. Part one takes place in 1895 during the war of independence. Part 2 takes place in the early 1930s during the regime of Gerardo Machado, and Part 3 is a story from the 1960s. Each Lucia represents a different class: first the upper class, then the middle class, and finally the working class. Each episode offers a glimpse into history and the changing of social and political relationships. The emphasis is on revolution, first against Spain, then against a dictator, and finally against the patriarchy.  Solas’s camera is fluid to the point of being frenetic, and his lighting is hot, very hot. Scenes of battle across fields or brouhaha on the streets are hectic with quick and insistent cutting. The hand-held camera roves about quickly. The film somehow reminds me of Gillo Pontecorvo’s Battle of Algiers (1966) and also Soviet cinema from its early years. Aside from some furious action, Lucia presents faces, the faces of people from all classes up close and personal. This is a film of faces and furious action. It also manages to carry its revolutionary zeal heavily. What we see does not inspire optimism in revolutionary action.

Prisioneros de la Tierra (1939), directed by Mario Soffici. This Argentinian film deals with the exploitation of workers in early twentieth-century Argentina. The mensus (indentured labourers) are taken deep into the wild to work for a company clearing forest and running a mill of some kind. Their lives are controlled by the brutal mill contractor, Kohner, played by Francisco Petrone. The men are brutalized and suffer from disease, malaria and worse. To help deal with the men’s sickness, the contractor takes a doctor, Dr. Else (Raul de Lange), and his daughter with him to the yerba mate plantation. The doctor has a serious alcohol problem. He is also proud of his sturdy walking stick, an object that proves fatally dangerous. The daughter, Chinita (Elisa Galve), finds herself attracted to one of the workers, Esteban Podeley (Angel Magana), while Kohner finds himself attracted to Chinita. You can bet trouble ensues. The plot has some affinity with that in films such as High Sierra (1941) and its remake Colorado Territory (1949). To tell you this is to let you know the film shows the dark side of life. The black and white cinematography in Prisioneros de la Tierra has an expressionistic edge that highlights the jungle drudgery and dread. The film examines capitalism’s unrelenting drive of the downtrodden worker. If the film has a bright spot, this spot is to be found in the one-armed character who is always happy, and who plans to make much money by distilling orange liquor. Unfortunately for him, Dr. Else drinks all the samples of this range liquor. Undeterred, the one-armed fellow insists he is happy. 

 

Sambizanga (1972), directed by Sarah Maldoror. Maldoror worked as an assistant director on Pontecorvo’s Battle of Algiers, and she brings the political intensity of that film to Sambizanga. This film tells the story of the arrest and incarceration of a construction worker, Domingos (Domingos de Oliviera), and the quest of his wife, Maria (Elisa Andrade) to find him. Maria, with her young son on her back, walks the long journey to Luanda seeking news of her husband. Meanwhile, Domingos is beaten by the Portuguese authorities in their effort to get him to divulge the names of members of the liberation movement. Maria finally reaches the city and tries to get information of the whereabouts of her husband. The authorities prove less than helpful. By the time Maria does locate Domingos, he has been beaten to death inside one of the city jails. The film begins and ends with powerful shots of a raging river. These shots indicate the powerful forces, emotional forces, at work that will not be quelled. As for the narrative, this begins with the apparently contented life of Domingos and Maria and their son, then moves to their separation when Domingos is arrested, and finally moves on to Maria’s doomed quest. This is a powerful film that deals with corrupt colonial authority and indomitable human drive for liberation from oppression. At one point, we have a character tell those around him that the rich need the poor in order to maintain their position of privilege and ease. The rich exploit the poor. It so happens that in Angola the rich are white Portuguese and the poor the Black Africans, but colour is not a necessity for this system of oppression to exist. As I say, this is a powerful film, simple, straight forward, and honest.