"The Day I Became a Woman"
Marzieh Meshkini, the wife and protege of legendary Iranian filmmaker Mohsen Makmalbaf, makes her entry into the world film market with three short stories about being a woman in Iran in "The Day I Became a Woman."
Makmalbaf had formed a film school of sorts in his native Iran, attracting family and friends interested in learning the art and craft of filmmaking. His daughter, Samira, made a striking international with "Blackboards." His young wife, Meshkini, provides us with her graduate effort that effects some near brilliant moments coupled with film student intensity.
Part one, "Hava," reps the simplest, most amateur feeling, of the three short tales. This is the story of a little girl who enters, at ripe old age of nine, womanhood. Little Hava is not prepared for this event, which will stop her from playing with her best friend, Hassan, ever more. When she learns that she has one hour before officially becoming a woman, she runs off to steal back the last vestiges of childhood with her boy friend. Before she leaves to find Hassan, Hava's grandma shows her how to use a stick as a sundial to tell her when her time as a child is up. It's a swwet little tale, but the non-actors are called upon to deliver lengthy, meaningful lines and it works only as an academic exercise.
Better is the second tale, "Ha," about a young woman who takes part in a bicycle race - forbidden everywhere in Iran except for the island of Kish. We learn quickly that Ha is racing against her husband's wishes as he pursues her on horseback. The focus is constantly on Ha and the other women, swathed head to toe in black, as her husband and a succession of family, mullahs and village elders ride their horses beside Ha and the racers and shout at her to stop this madness. The visuals are striking and this tale about escape.
The last tale, "Hoora," is about an old women who comes into the big city, hires a boy and entourage of carriers and goes on a shopping spree, buying everything from a refrigerator and washer/dryer to a bedroom set and, even, a tea kettle. She then has the whole kit and caboodle delivered to the beach to be hauled onto a ship. This odd little yarn starts of with light, comic whimsy, but turns to Fellini-esque surreality, as her booty is set out on the beach, in room-like arrangement, to await transport to a ship. Hoora finally has everything she ever needed as her story draws to a close.
I am a strong proponent for Iranian films these past couple of years and I am always interested to see the crafted film work emerging from that struggling nation. To date, I have not been disappointed. True, every film can't be of the caliber and intensity of such works as "The Color of Paradise" or "A Time for Drunken Horses," but the obvious talents involved in the creation of "The Day I became a Woman" cannot be dispelled. The intense imagery and sometimes-silent story telling are very different from American films and are an interesting challenge for a film buff. I give it a B-.
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