Month: August 2021

A Hero begins with a long-tilting shot as our lead Rahim (Amir Jadidi) climbs a rickety set of construction stairs that look like they could collapse at any moment. This image, in essence, encapsulates A Hero, the newest film from acclaimed Iranian filmmaker Asghar Farhadi.

Having been granted leave from prison in order to relieve his debt, Rahim comes across a bag of 17 gold coins, which he does not know who it belongs to. He tries to turn it in for money, but the gold standard that day is not as high as it usually is. He thinks of using it to repay his debt, but he knows he’d be questioned as to how he got it. So, he makes a drastic decision: he decides to set up a scene in which he makes a good deed by “returning” the bag of gold. This, in turn, leads him to becoming some sort of local celebrity. He’s featured on TV, interviewed, and granted awards, that is until some journalists begin to grow skeptical that he made his story up. What follows is a story of preconceived identity. “Nothing in this world is fair,” goes a line in the film. Regardless of whether his “good deed” was true or not, people can’t see past his identity as an untrustworthy prisoner. They believe he has other motions behind him.

Rahim’s occupation is a painter, and as he paints a picture of himself, one by one, everyone begins to fall for his scheme. His story is then framed into another story. But as he tries to defend his original story, it’s then framed into another story. And then another… bringing other individuals and establishments into his orbit. The result is a testament to how big a web of lies can be spun, and how root-less words can be based on who says them. (Well, if everyone around me believes this story, then it must be true, right?)

The film dares to ask, “What is a hero?” Is it one who does a good deed and expects a reward in return? Or one who admits their vulnerability? What makes this film function so well is how all the story elements work together – every story beat adds onto the film’s conflict. Stakes. Jeopardy. Tension. It’s all there. It’s a masterclass in screenwriting on how taught and air tight a story can be. And based on how explosive the third act gets, you’ll be seething about how peoples’ preconceived notions won’t take into account good deeds or feelings.

Bergman Island begins with our characters Chris (Vicky Krieps) and her husband Tony (Tim Roth) arriving in Fålo, Sweden. The couple’s plan is to go to Ingmar Bergman’s old home, where he wrote most of his films, in order to draw some inspiration for their next scripts. They plug in their coordinates on a GPS. “You will reach your destination in one hour and 48 minutes,” it says, which is, unironically, the length of the film. Bergman Island, however, never reaches its destination. Ten minutes into the film, there’s no conflict, no story to chisel out from this stoic film. It’s another film about writers “going somewhere to write,” as if they just “want to be” in the foreign world they’re thrusted into.

20 minutes into the film, still no story or conflict. The film is almost comedic at times. It doesn’t quite know who its protagonist is (we assume it’s Chris, but still in the first act, there’s no way to discern that as we see her enjoying herself with one of the museum’s employees.) I guess it’s supposed to act, operate, and pay homage to a Bergman film?

35 minutes in: still no conflict ensues, but it turns into somewhat of a film geek’s fantasy. The characters are so self-indulgent in that they “need to go somewhere” to write, that there is no externalized conflict, ending up a waste of the actors’ talents.

45 minutes in: look! Finally some rejection and conflict like this movie could go somewhere! Oh… but it’s just Chris suffering from writer’s block (ok, still something.) But it then shifts into an unnecessary frame narrative that totally detours from the character’s bare kernel of a story. Fiction then blurs into reality and reality blurs into fiction a la Day for Night, as characters from different timelines appear in others, not in an effective way, however.

Mia Hansen-Løve once said, “All of my films are my version of Heat.” I just wish some of that love and passion went into this film. There’s a line of dialogue that goes “if you look at something long enough it becomes interesting.” This film, however, never does. One hour and 48 minutes later, we never reach a destination, having veered wildly off course. “There’s a world outside your own asshole,” Chris says in the film. Yes, indeed there is.