A Hero, which is the latest emotional maze of an Iranian neorealist master Asghar Farhadi, expounds this truism. In it, a calligrapher Rahim who has been allowed to leave prison for a short while finds a bag full of gold coins in the street and decides to take it back to its owner instead of using the money to settle his huge debt that resulted in his imprisonment. This apparent act of self-sacrifice causes a minor media sensation with Rahim and the viewers seated on its precipice – a place where eerie silence presides before gusts upon gusts of skeptics and envious spectators would knock him off his reluctant pedestal. As it moves towards this climax, the film introduces many nuanced characters who are at crossroads with Rahim (or each other) and each have their own motives, individuals whom Farhadi brings subtly into life by his understated naturalism creating a restrained work that trembles with acute anxiety.
The plot of A Hero has been likened by The A.V. Club’s A.A. Dowd to Milkshake Duck on Twitter for a reason—overnight micro-celebrities in the internet age (for example Ken Bone), whose fame is quickly followed by users digging up old posts or opinions as proof that they are not good people whether it is justified or not. Social media is not really what this film is about but writer-director Farhadi mentions it quite often zooming in on human flaws and frailties that make such situations possible from all sides.
One thing that makes it click is its phenomenal cast headed by Jadidi whose eyes instinctively invoke pity whenever they shine bright be it when he sees Siavash (Saleh Karimai) his son; Mali (Maryam Shahdaei) her children; or Farkhondeh (Sahar Goldust), his secret lover with whom he shares a very tender onscreen relationship. Nonetheless, Rahim and Farkhondeh’s sly smiles light up the screen but a thunderstorm hovers over them in the figure of Bahram (Mohsen Tanabandeh), his ex-wife’s brother-in-law who is simply tired of him.
Bahram is just one among others who are trying to discredit Rahim by finding holes in his story. This is worsened when the old woman whom he claims owns the bag disappears with no trace, thus making it impossible to prove his heroism. In this way, being asked continuously as to how trustworthy he can be – deliberately or not – becomes an indignity thrust upon him so that Rahim begins silently feeling fatigued while Jadidi speaks through silence burdening him with meaning. Simultaneously other organizations ranging from charities to prisons all have got Rahim’s good deed tied to their cars and thus a hasty disclaimers of any connections between them begin to sound sour after news about the narrative’s accuracy as well as what they know about his past start circulating online. They may not be claiming money back from him, but they regard themselves as having some moral rights over him.
There are several of Farhadi’s films (such as Le Passé, which is in French and the Best International Feature Oscar winners The Salesman, and A Separation) that create their quiet intensity through the gradual unraveling of a central lie. What makes A Hero quite surprising is that it follows this template exactly, only that Rahim’s character largely becomes more truth than fiction. In most cases, Farhadi’s characters tell many other lies to hide the truth from him and similarly others also like Rahim have had to come up with various deceitful tactics so as to safeguard at least some elements of their original story about his family, Farkhondeh and the taxi driver who brought Rahim to his house after he had taken away bag of its owner. This chap will do whatever it takes for Rahim; even if it means telling an untruth or bending the rules because he himself was once incarcerated and knows how society forever brands former convicts.
This way we can see that the story develops at the crossroads linking social justice and legal justice – with retributive justice on one hand and restorative justice on another – involving countless arguments around should, must not be seen as such, must not be helped or punished but few opinions belonging actually to him. So by all means they help turn Rahim into a media sensation; when their prison facility gets airtime they are more than happy to talk about him but fundamentally they are still exploiting their inmate who they were supposed to restrict his freedom and humanity hence there is a limit even for their kindness. They both have personal grudges against him besides being owed a large amount by Bahram together with his daughter Nazanin (Sarina Farhadi), meaning that what happens next in his life begins with complications and unpleasantries we learn about second-hand.
We just get a fragmentary limited view of Rahim as well as a film that makes us be skeptical about his narrative even after we have all but witnessed it unfold before our very eyes (the word “most” leave room for doubt). Likewise, each of the secondary characters constructs their own version of Rahim from what they know about him, whether it is his present actions or past sins, a video showing him at his worst or simply admitting he was tempted to sell the coins to pay off debt and took another path eventually. The human complexity clashes with others more saintly as well as sinister depictions of him. It is not wholly different from reading one tweet and believing you can figure out 99% of someone’s identity from only 280 characters.
With every new exposure of vulnerability, from Rahim’s relationship to his son’s stuttering, it starts to seem like another possible point of attack that can be exploited by those who are against him. Sooner or later, even the most jolly parts of A Hero start feeling like a tragedy in waiting—when another character instructs Siavash on what to say about his father for a camera; it is difficult to differentiate this scene from a hostage video. The more Rahim tells us about himself, the more he reveals his family and inner self to other people’s whims — and the more they pester him with stupid questions that not only do not make sense but also assume he could have guessed what would happen to him before these things occurred. This line of questioning is asked by a potential employer played by Ehsan Goodarzi; whole scenes reveal the absurdity of red tape that forces Rahim to navigate through it while building up an equal amount of suspense (a typical hero requires an ordinary villain which is what Goodarzi’s imposing H.R. rep represents because whenever he steps into a room everyone gets uneasy and feels sick).
Farhadi’s indulgence in each scene amounts to nothing less than the characters around Rahim baring their hearts; this makes their actions subtly display ulterior motives. The effect is an eerie narrative tension: our understanding of these persons increases but they gradually reveal themselves as being deceptive when it comes to dealing with Rahim; they show their better selves but degrade into parasites whose aim is making him a mere symbol or occasion for something else. Farhadi might be too skillful at constructing drama that you may think, “What if I closed out all these characters?” instead watching them go through their natural habitat.
Like most his other works, Farhadi doesn’t require any additional music score for improving or emphasizing his story further. Jadidi carries the tune; everything he thinks, every look in his eyes, all smiles and subtle concerns anchor us to some tangible emotional present day while showing us what is likely to come next. Farhadi and editor Hayedeh Safiyari move seamlessly between people starting off with group shots that are quite comfortable before zooming into close-ups for no reason really intense but just right before as the conversations get more serious. Occasionally handheld whispers, the camera barely does anything beyond small tilts or pans; however, it feels perpetually on edge because it always anticipates each beat of drama.
In addition to Farhadi, Ali Ghazi and Arash Ramezani are also listed as cinematographers. The trio’s visual texture suffocates Rahim’s hopefulness. The film opens with him getting out of prison to visit a relative who works at the archeological restoration site of Naqsh-e Rostam; rather than catching sight of the vast space around or great expanse of the carved mountainside, we get only a glimpse of Rahim walking behind scaffolding that hides his entrance to this location as if he were trapped in a cage; nothing more than a temporary freedom can be given to him because he will always be referred to as ‘prisoner.’
Some of Rahim’s scenes are set in Barham’s shop, a marketplace that is filled with windows and glass. His worst moments and weaknesses are on full display when he tries to pay off his debts, as well as when he gets into arguments over past wrongs done unto him. He even finds himself trapped at some point inside one of those glass boxes that you find in museums where the public can gaze upon them and discuss what they see. Jadidi works hard to give Rahim a sense of humanity but he has always been under scrutiny and constantly threatened by people, systems, sensationalist media that seek to shape him- manipulate him then dump him- these are also the same forces which led Farhadi to protest against his government and call for withdrawal of this Iran’s Oscar entry movie.
However, what makes A Hero truly terrifying goes beyond anything that happens to Rahim; the reasons behind it all – from burning jealousies, desires for revenge, or simply righteous pursuit of justice even when found in the most unlikely places – do indeed make sense to anyone who experience such things. It could have happened either way around.
The Decision
In A Hero, the idea of justice becomes contorted because Rahim is a prisoner whose good deeds turn him into a mini-celebrity before his past catches up with him again. Told through Asghar Farhadi’s characteristic brand of neo-realism, it fills up with anxiety even during its calmer moments because there is increasingly mounting realization that rahim may be too decent for his self-respect alone save.
Watch free movies on Fmovies
