Bahram Baizai, born to a literary family in Tehran, in 1937, is one of the
most enigmatic figures of the contemporary Iranian cultural scene. He is a leading
expert in Iranian dramatic arts and his outstanding command of the Persian language
and narration ranks him high on the list of Iranian script writers. In spite
of this, his work, especially in the world of cinema, has faced much governmental
resistance in the form of lack of production support, delayed screenings or
total censorship of his scripts or even finished films, both before and after
the revolution of 1979. Excluding his extensive work in theater, literature
and academia, this article aims to introduce Baizai’s cinema by presenting the
salient themes and features that establish him as an author-director.
Bahram Baizai
|
Bahram Baizai is one of the pioneers of the Iranian art cinema of the 80s,
even though his reputation beyond the borders of Iran remains far behind
those who are known as the pillars of the new wave of Iranian neo-realism.
While the works of many of the famous Iranian directors are easily branded
as `intellectual’ and are funneled into the stream of a certain audience
in Iran, or towards international festivals, Baizai’s work, multi-faceted
and complex, leaves many confused as how to fit his work into any genre.
Baizai insists that he makes simple films; that he writes simple stories
and stresses that the complexity of his topics is not crafted ideologies
that he inserts in a pretentious attempt at intellectualism! He maintains
that intricacy is inherent to the nature of life; and that life, even
if lived simplistically, is not independent from the convoluted paths
of history and culture, which themselves are byproducts of nature: geography
and psychology. [1]
Baizai complains of certain critics who strive to complicate his films beyond
what they are. Such critics insist that Baizai’s films are inaccessible to those
who do not have a profound knowledge of Persian history and culture. With a
scholarly understanding of Iranian and Asian theater, mythology and history,
Baizai does not deny the underlying social and philosophical themes of his films.
Yet, he speaks the visual language of cinema, defying the dyslexia of the technology
available to him in Iran. In making a film, he aims at an aesthetic perfection
that communicates his vision to the audience, albeit on different levels, depending
on the cultural background of the viewer. In response to the question of the
importance of cultural and historical readings to his films, Baizai says:
... there is always a risk that dwelling too much on deciphering
such meanings blocks the way of direct communication of the film with
the audience. This dimension (reference to the history and national
identity) in our film (Maybe Some Other Time) is transparent
and speaking about it magnifies it beyond proportion and burdens the
understanding of the film. There are some film makers who think film,
on it’s own, is insufficient. They strive to surmount the film with
meanings and messages that grant the film a social respectability.
This mentality existed in our traditional theater as well, where the
actors preached morals and ethics to prove that theater was a respectable
profession. I do not suffer such guilt or inadequacy (about the insufficiency
of the cinema) and I think that the on-screen subject precedes the
importance of any other underlying concept, which might be credited.[2]
In spite of this, Baizai’s cinema does not succumb to hypocritical popularism.
His devotion, in making a film, is not to box office success; neither
to the official governmental guidelines nor to the propaganda expectations
of any political parties.[3]
I have always said that the viewers do understand, if I make my work understandable.
On the other hand, if the spectator’s comprehension is not elevated
enough, it is because she has not been exposed to more elated films.
This is neither his fault nor his destiny. This is neither my fault
nor a determining factor of my form and style. We should all try to
improve this level. And I don’t know why instead of helping me, the
intellectuals, the critics, the producers and the government have
stood in my way. ... During Downpour (Baizai’s first feature
film), the equations of commercial and intellectual films were the
same. The common morality of the action/drama films of the commercial
cinema had a tone of political ideology and social activism. The intellectual
films were praised for communicating with the mass culture. In that
sense, I don’t want to be popular. Many of these (popular) moralities,
in my opinion, are wrong and we are all victims of them. So, I have
betrayed my people if I endorse them. I have deviated from the morals
of the political parties, hence they have labeled me (inaccessible),
not the people. ... At the heart of my harsh expression, there is
a love and respect, for the people, that does not exist in superficial
appraisals of the masses. ... my audiences are those who strive to
go one step further, not those who are the guardians of the old equations
nor those who dread self examination and self reflexivity. [4]
The most controversial theme in Baizai’s films, which has frequently
led to official banning of his films, is the iconic representation of
women. Women’s issues are frequently addressed in the context of Iranian
social cinema. Landmarks such as Bani Etemad’s Narges (1992),
S. Makhmalbaf’s Apple (1998), and Panahi’s Circle (2000)
invariably appear on every ``women-in-Iran’’ list. Baizai’s depiction
of women on screen, however, dates back to the early 70’s and deviates
from the typical contemporary realism, which draws attention to the
cultural, religious and social webs in which the average women of Iran
are supposedly caught. Baizai’s women, although challenged by unjust
realities, transcend the boundaries that surround them, by the virtue
of their natural superiority. The women of Baizai’s film are just as
entangled in the ropes of the patriarchal society as are, for instance,
Mehrjuy’s Sara (1993), Leila (1996), and Banoo
(1992, released 2001).[5] Yet, they are not victims to it. They challenge
the norm; they reject the stale tradition and they are empowered by
their independence, power of will and their invincible love, as mothers,
lovers, sisters and wives.
These women, however, signify more than their traditional roles. Their pivotal
function in the majority of Baizai’s films is as a political signifier
of the subtle strings that tie down the spirit of life and imprison
the soul of a nation.[6] In Maybe, Some Other Time, for example,
a woman’s quest for her identity points to a national concern. In Bashu,
the fear of the unknown and the narrow mindedness lead to the isolation
of a woman who is independent and brave. A woman’s struggle in the rotten
world of men in Rabid Killing speaks also of the directors personal
struggle in a society where corruption is becoming a social epidemic.
Baizai comments that it is only in a macho-manist society that a critic
says ``Baizai made another film with a woman lead’’.
It is in a patriarchal society that the lack of presence of a man
in the leading role invokes critical attention ... the greatest disaster
of patriarchy, where grownups decide for children and men for women
and the government for the real people and the intellectual for the
imaginary ones, is that it is the women and children who suffer the
consequences of the men’s decisions. The victims of patriarchal self-centeredness
are not only the women and children, but also many a man. These people
are my subjects. Against a masculine tyranny, the children build up
a hatred that will make them the martyrs or the tyrants of the future.
The women, on the other hand, have their internal defense mechanism
and a subtle wisdom that balances them against the violence of the
world. [7]
In fact, most of his films are strongly centered around this female wisdom.
In Stranger and Fog, Ra’na, whose first husband is presumed dead in the
sea, becomes the soul fighter whose dagger is capable of killing the cloaked
men who have come from the sea to take her second husband back. In Bashu,
Na’i stands alone, against the mistrust of the community; her motherly instincts
shelter Bashu in the rain; she tends to his fever although the doctor refuses
help; she saves him from drowning by a fisher’s net. In Travelers, it
is a woman who is the carrier of the mirror and it is the grandmother whose
faith brings the mirror and light back to the crowd of mourners. They question
the sanity of the old woman who, in spite of all the evidence of the death,
insists on proceeding with the wedding. Even the most cynical woman of them
all, Hamdam, possesses a psychic sense of something that has gone wrong. The
lightheartedness of Mastan and her cheerful wit contrast the rationalism of
her professor husband. In Ballad of Tara, only she can be the guardian
of the historic sword. Indifferent to the significance of the sword, Tara hands
it in to one of her male neighbors. But, he runs back to Tara and returns it
in fury and cries that the sword has invited haunting ghosts to his house; that
his rest and sleep has perished. It is only Tara who uses the sword to harvest,
to defend her children from a mad dog. It is Tara, a young single mother who
dares to face the ghosts and at last dares to fight the almighty waves of the
sea to claim her historic lover, the ghost warrior, back. Even in his darkest
film, Rabid Killing, Golrokh, a writer, risks her life and dignity to
face the most menacing of men, in order to bail her husband out of his jail
sentence. Yet at last, with broken heart and broken body, when she realizes
that she has been but the agent of her husband’s corruption, her humanity survives
and surpasses the impulse of revenge as she walks away and back into her intellectual
world of writing.
The Travellers
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In addition to the on-screen roles of the characters, Baizai makes a rhetorical
use of women -e.g. in Ballad of Tara, Maybe Some Other Time, Travelers
and Rabid Killing - to speak of the present realities of the Iranian
society. Besides women, children represent his hopes and fears for the future
of, not only Iranians, but also humanity. For example, in Maybe Some Other
Time, Kian’s odyssey of self discovery is triggered by her concern for her
unborn child. The survival of Bashu and his acceptance by other children, and
his acceptance by Na’I’s husband who symbolically calls Bashu his right hand
(his right arm is amputated) are evidence of Baizai’s faith in a new generation
who will walk past the horrors of war, the barriers of race and ethnicity and
will compensate for the handicap of the older generations. In Rabid Killing
Golrokh’s ethical compromise to buy her husband’s freedom back, represents
the current struggle of intellectuals -embodied in the character of Golrokh-
who are trying to fool corruption, decadence, lust, hypocrisy, illiteracy and
ignorance out of existence. Golrokh’s husband, represents her hope for rebuilding
their broken family; metaphorically a troubled society, which deserves a second
chance. He also uses male protagonists, symbolically, in films such as Downpour
and Stranger and Fog, to address social and political issues that an
individual faces in a dictatorship state, namely the mistrust and paranoia that
plague one’s freedoms of action and ideology.
Although subtle, the adamant political stances of his films have cost Baizai
his tenure at the faculty of art in Tehran University. They have also
led to tighter than usual restrictions of his film-making activities
[8]. Ironically, the subjects of his criticism, are not only the tyrants
but also the victims. Baizai challenges them to understand and to acknowledge
their responsibility for having fallen prey to authoritarian exploitation.
National identity is the core of the political concerns of Baizai. He believes
that an anthropology of the folk and pop culture of a people is the basis of
understanding their society. He deplores the negligent attitude of the Iranian
intellectuals about the origins of their culture and society. He blames the
lack of national and historical self-appreciation to be the cause of the present
cultural cacophony in Iran. Baizai saturates his films with references to old
culture or rural folklore. Such presentations -fruits of many years of Baizai’s
research on the origins of Persian plays and rituals- contribute not only to
the formal aesthetics of the film, but also ring bells to awaken the national
conscience.
In Ballad of Tara, Baizai explicitly speaks of a nation, embodied in
Tara, who inherits a relic of its history, the sword of the grandfather. As
Tara comes face to face with the wounded soldier of the ancient wars and learns
of the tale of his bravery, she falls in love with her history. Tara represents
a nation who realizes the glory of its past, falls in love with it, attempts
to reclaim it from the infinite ocean of the past, and yet accepts the reality
that what is lost to the waves of time is lost forever and submits to a pragmatic
but noble union with a man of earth, of present, of productivity.
In Maybe Some Other Time, Susan Taslimi, who played the lead
role of Tara, functions iconographically in three roles: Kian who doubts
her identity; Vida, the twin sister, who is a self assured artist, and
their mother who gives up her child to the fear of poverty and deprives
the other child from affection because she obsessively regrets the loss
of the child whom she has abandoned. Kian embodies a society which cannot
fit together the pieces of its present realities and suffers nightmares
of dangling in darkness, without roots, a handle to hang from nor a
ground to stand on. Kian, whose concern for the future of her unborn
child - an allegory of the future generation - leads her into the path
of self examination, discovers a twin sister, Vida, an artist who is
fully aware of her origins and the circumstances that had led their
mother to abandon one of the two.[9] Transparent to the on-screen story,
the quest of Kian and a comparison of two sisters speaks loudly of the
fears and instability of not only a person, but also a society which
is oblivious to its past, to the creativity and strongheadedness of
the one which is aware of its history, even if it is dark and bitter.
[10]
Maybe Some Other Time
|
In Travelers, Baizai speaks of the power of a people who are capable
of defying the oppressive reality of death and darkness with an invincible trust
and defiant hope in light and life. Here, he criticizes a pessimistic national
attitude that easily leans on a cushion of regret and mourning and challenges
Iranians to reject the notion of the death of hope and to bring back the historical
mirror of the union and the joy that has belonged to them for generations.
Baizai’s enigmatic persona emerges from his independent approach to
the subject matter, beyond a narrow band of cultural restrictions, and
far removed from the preachingly moralist or pretentiously mystical
narration, which are at the core of the prolific Iranian cinema industry.
Textual interpretation is the norm of analyzing Iranian art in general.
Baizai’s films are rich enough in theme and superfluous enough in texture
to grant interpretation. However, a factor in Baizai’s art of social
criticism that distinguishes it from those of his more famous contemporaries,
is his lavish use of cinematic tools at the disposal of his expressionist
form. Looking at individual components of his mise-en-scene, camera
movement, and montage may tempt one to brand his style as derivative.
The intense lighting, the dramatic acting, the symbolic set designs
might look as artificial and cliched attempts at saturating the film
with melodramatic effects. However, insisting on a full use of cinema
language, carefully designed and aimed to increase the depth of the
on-screen story, both in the visual and the textual sense, constitutes
the essence of Baizai’s authorship.[11]
It is a popular critical belief that enjoying Baizai requires a solid footing
in Persian language. In a culture where poetry and the written word occupy a
wide band of the artistic spectrum, Baizai’s narratives are not told as much
verbally as they are pictorially. A masterful playwright, almost every single
dialogue line in his films has a purposeful function and meaning. Baizai minimizes
the amount of casual conversation in order to make time for communicating other
ideas. In fact, screen time economy in a conventional sense is not the subject
of Baizai’s devotion. The casual conversations of on-screen people are conveyed
not as much in words, rather in facial expressions, in the looks in their eyes,
in the complexity of their dreams and hallucinations, in the colors of their
environment or clothes. Many of the spoken words of his films can be edited
out without disrupting the continuity of the plot. However, these wordy inserts
are often informative, serve as a platform for the theatrical performances of
the actors and provide a backdrop that enriches the texture of the film.
In fact, a common critique of Baizai’s style is the abundance of unrealistic
or excessive stylistic patterns in those of his films that have a realistic
story, such as in Rabid Killing, which is considered as a social critique,
or in Travelers or Maybe Some Other Time, which can be branded
as family dramas. However, the over expressive act of Golrokh in Rabid Killing,
as she addresses characters representing different stereotypes of corruption,
is a tribute to a folk theater tradition, "pardeh-khani", where the
narrator addresses the spectators, often ranting about morals. The repetitive
and circular movement of camera, which is one of the signatures of Baizai’s
cinema, is a tribute to the round arena of ta’zieh. Baizai has shown, by contrasting
the realistic act of Bashu with the dramatic performance of Na’i (Susan Taslimi),
that he is capable of directing in both worlds of neo-realism and expressionism.
Many of the verbal and pictorial inserts, which seem to disrupt the classical
continuity of Baizai’s films, can be considered as avant garde cinematic exercises
within an otherwise conventional narrative film.
In Maybe Some Other Time, there are documentary-style voices of a reporter
speaking of the problem of pollution and over population of Tehran, while the
images of traffic, flashing lights and confused people are edited in an experimental
form, reminiscent of Koyaanisqatsi. In the same film, there is a sequence
of the antique dealer's voice giving a relatively long explanation of the history
of those heritage objects in his shop. This provides the director an Eisenteinian-montage
device to provide the viewers photographic tableaus of some of the most treasured
relics of their history. The sequence of the mother dragged behind the carriage,
more than being a Soviet-style attempt at extracting emotions, is a homage to
the silent-film era, which gives the director a chance to eternalize scenes
of the old Tehran, which are being rapidly replaced by high-rises.
The camera movement and the framing and reframing of the choreographed movement
of characters in Travelers reminds one of Fellini. The editing style,
the costume design and the tracking speed of the camera in Stranger and Fog,
according to Baizai’s own admission is his tribute to Kurosawa. Bashu’s
amateur casting and location shooting is a neo-realist experience for Baizai
but he doesn’t shy away from employing non-classical montage or expressionist
compositions, such as the ghost of the burnt mother, to display the fears and
feelings of Bashu. The army, emerging from the waves of the sea in Ballad
of Tara, or the fight scene in Stranger and Fog, where Ayat bleeds
from where he wounds the stranger who has come to take him back are lyrical
and surealistic depictions of epics. Baizai’s facial close-ups and playful use
of color that enhance the atmosphere in Travelers and in Maybe Some
Other Time are reminiscent of Bergman's style.
Bashu
|
erhaps in any other part of the world, where cinema did not have to justify
itself on the grounds of other forms of art, Baizai would have been given due
credit for his courageous experimentation with such diverse cinematic styles.
Although phantoms of Kurosawa, Bergman, Fellini, Hitchcock and Welles dance
in his films, his technical, financial and even ideological freedom do not come
even close to theirs. He speaks of such a lack:
... How can you conceal the spatial discontinuity of the actual
locations which are patched disharmoniously into a distasteful mixture
of modern and old? How can you conceal the discontinuity of time,
the passage of the seasons after every open-ended shut down of the
production? In a film, which is planned only in your head and you
have half of the production weight on your shoulder- until the producer
disappears and you have the full weight! -, such sporadic disorganization
increases the shooting time, tires you and the crew and even then,
you have to conceal this fatigue from the screen! In the American
lair of Hollywood, or in Italy’s cineland of Cinecitta, locations
are often entirely created by set designers. There are institutions
for recruiting and training the extras. I haven’t gone and I haven’t
seen, but I have heard from those who have. They speak of planning,
a "foreign" concept to us, which belongs to a system of
foresight and order. ... here we are making films in an "unpredictable"
environment; we don’t know which neighbor or shopkeeper will object
to our shooting, which uniformed or non-uniformed police will pop
in our way, which ideological patron of the neighborhood thinks cinema
is a source of immorality ... these are some of the issues that I
have alluded to in Downpour ... [12]
Although he acknowledges the impressionability of an artistic subconsious,
he denies any attempt to copy any style or form of art. He hints to a prominent
but poorly researched cultural link, which historically existed between Asia
and Persia of ancient times, and hence explains the reminiscence between his
costume designs and dramatic styles with those of Asian plays and Japanese cinema:
Many filmmakers have been my teachers; many of the good ones and
many of the bad ones. From the latter group I have learned what not
to do. From the former group, my affinity with Bergman and Kurosawa
is of the same nature as it is with Griffith, Eisenstein, Lang, Hitchcock,
Welles, Ford, Rossellini, etc. I try to learn and to understand, it
doesn’t mean I like all of them equally, or that I don’t criticize
them. If you are more focused on (similarity of my work to) Bergman
and Kurosawa, ... it is perhaps because incidentally, our resources
are more or less the same. I have seriously worked on the Japanese
theater, which is Kurosawa’s source as well. I have also worked on
the western play, which is Bergman's source. I know that the Persian
miniatures of seven centuries ago are more Japanese than the Japanese
paintings of seven centuries ago! ... The sickle of death [which Baizai
has used in Stranger and Fog] is not adapted from the Seventh
Seal, It has been symbolized in Ferdowsi’s poetry and in Naser-Khosrow’s
as well. ... yes the symbols are the same.[13] Only, they (e.g. Kurosawa
and Bergman) have images and we are denied to have imagery for centuries
... they have the tradition of visual communication of the meaning
, and we don’t. They have freedom of expression and we don’t. ...
Their style is not forced out of necessity. In our situation, I doubt
if they could take even one shot![14]
Baizai feels flattered that his Maybe Some Other Time and the Rabid
Killing remind viewers of Hitchcock. He speaks of Hitchcock’s influence,
which initially drew him into the film-making business. However, he calls imitating
Hitchcock mere foolishness:
I think anyone in anywhere in the world, who makes a suspense movie, will
inevitably remind you of Hitchcock ...(but Hitchcock) lived in a first
hand society and hence, his topics were first hand. We live in a scattered
and discontinuous second hand society where the urban life in a few
big cities is an incomplete adaptation of the life in Hitchcock’s
first hand society. Therefore, any movie that addresses the city dwellers,
appears as an adaptation of a western work. None withstanding the
chaos and the tastelessness of this ad hoc system of life, and ignoring
the olive skins of the population, what is national in this amalgamation
(big cities in Iran)? ... All I do in my films is to avoid picturing
this chaos; otherwise, the narrative will be drowned. Consequently,
my work is labeled foreigner and a copy of western or eastern cinema![15]
While neither the technical nor the financial support for Baizai’s films come
close to any of those masters, luckily their stylistic signatures are at the
disposal of his baroque creativity. He amalgamates and adapts them freely as
tools of structuring his narratives. He finds imitation a futile attempt at
creativity, and is often on an intellectual guard to defend any comparison drawn
between his work and those of the oriental or occidental masters, with a long
list of references to the old Persian literature and history, which predate
not only the history of cinema, but also -often- the texts from which those
cinematic landmarks are adapted. It is from Baizai’s original and personal vision
that, over three decades, some of the most intriguing films of the Iranian art
cinema have emerged.
FILMOGRAPHY:
- Amoo Sibiloo - 1970
- Ragbar (Downpour) - 1972
- Safar (Journey) - 1972
- Gharibe va Meh (Stranger and the Fog) - 1974
- Kalaagh (The Crow) - 1978
- Cherikeye Tara (Ballad of Tara) -1980
- Marge Yazdgerd (Death of Yazdgerd) - 1981
- Khate Ghermez (Red Line) Writer - 1981
- Davandeh (Runner) Editor - 1985
- Bashu (Bashu, the little stranger) - 1987
- Maybe Some Other Time - 1988
- Mosaferan (Travelers) - 1999
- Goftegoo Ba Baad (Kish Stories) – 1999
CINEMATIC CONTRIBUTIONS:
- Screenplay of Rooze Vaghe’e (Day of Incident) dir. Shahram
Assadi, 1995
- Editing Borje Minoo (Minoo Tower) dir. Ebrahim Hatami kia,
1996
- Screenplay of Fasle Panjom (Fifth Season) dir. Rafi Pitts,
1996
REFERENCES
- Ghokassian, Zavon. Conversation with Bahram Baizai, 1992, Agah Publications
- Gozaresh-e Film (Film Report) 12:185
- Mahname Cinema’i-e Film (Film monthly Magazine), 19:279
- Mottahedeh, Negar. "Bahram Baizai’s Maybe Some Other Time:
The un-Present-able Iran," Camera Obscura 15.1 (2000): 162-191
- Mottahedeh, Negar. "Bahram Bayza`i: Filmography" in Life and
Art: the New Iranian Cinema ed. R. Issa and S. Whitaker (London: BFI 1999)
- Interview
with Jahanbakhsh Nouraei, "Iranianfilm.com"
Endnotes
- Conversation with Bahram Baizai, Zavon Ghokassian, 1992,
translations by Najmeh Khalili. Further references as , from now on,
this book is referenced as Conversation.
- Conversation, p. 287
- Gozareshe Film (Film Report) 12:185, p. 79
- Conversation, p. 54
- Mehrjuy is one of the leading Iranian directors who has dealt extensively
with the social issues of the Iranian bourgeoisie, especially with
role of woman in sustaining the patriarchal culture, as well as the
emotional and psychological effects of it on the women.
- The word "nation" in this paper refers to any people
who are united by a common geopolitical history; whose bases of moral
and culture overlap and whose tradition and language stem from the
same root. In this sense, the text of Baizai’s film is not bound within
an Iranian nationalist compound and can be easily generalized to any
resembling society, namely those with a totalitarian dictatorship
or a colonial government, where a wide gap exists between the will
of the people and the disposition of the state.
- Conversation, p. 43
- Negar Mottahedeh, "Bahram Baizai’s Maybe Some Other Time:
The un-Present-able Iran," Camera Obscura 15.1 (2000):
162-191
- Negar Mottahedeh, "Bahram Bayza`i: Filmography" in Life
and Art: the New Iranian Cinema ed. R. Issa and S. Whitaker (London:
BFI 1999), 74-82
- Baizai, himself, insists on the transparency of the subtextual
meaning of his films (Conversation, p 288): "Yes one can
symbolize the separation of the sisters, to historical separation
of two people of the same race, or not; one can generalize the loss
of identity to the whole society; or not. One can say that the meanings
of the characters’ names refer to the differences in their psychology;
or not ... such readings into my films deprive me of producers who
fear box-office failure in case my representation of the mother becomes
mythical. They also give an excuse to the censorship officers who
need to find an excuse to stop me ... I salute the critics who called
Maybe Some Other Time an Indian movie!, Viva Indian Movies!
Don’t magnify my films, let me live!
- Interview with Jahanbakhsh Nouraei
- Conversation, p. 50
- Ferdowsi is a legendary Iranian poet, whose Shahnameh, or the Epic
of Kings, written in 1010 AC, is one of the landmarks of the Persian
literature. Hakim NaserKhosrow is a poet and writer from 1015-1102
AC. His book of poetry includes about 12000 verses of elegy and fragments.
His outstanding works are: Zada al-Mosaferin, Khane Akhavan,
Vajhe Din, SafarNameh, and RoshanaeeNameh.
- Conversation, p. 100
- Conversation, p. 269
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