Syngué sabour, pierre de patience

So often times I find I am most appreciated in my role as husband, the less I say. Honestly, it came up the evening before I watched this film. That being said, I'm not quite willing to take a bullet in the neck to help the process. Alas only a bullet and no Oscar for Hamid Djavadan as the husband in this film. Although it used to be a theory that mute actresses could win an award for similar roles.

Golshifteh Farahani is the actress here, and far from mute, she finds her voice/strength/resolve. Her beauty is striking, did anyone else find that detracted some from the dire dilapidation of her village and situation. The filmmakers did try to muss her up some, but in "The Patience Stone" we are reminded again that a jewel in the rough is still a jewel. Radiant.

And this film is all hers, with perhaps the most soliloquies you'll see this side of graduation week at an arts college. Her face runs an impressive gamut of expression, but as I bought the air of impending danger (one scene in particular with a neighbor driven mad really resonated), that I had a hard time with her character registering anything more than shock. Granted I realize far too many people (and children) grow up in such troubling circumstances, and that alone is mind-boggling. (And soul-shaking.) There are interesting side-story and back-story aspects (The Aunt!!) so perhaps the book would be best to start with (I had intended to, but didn't get around to it.) Mostly this film is a story of perhaps the most impossible marital counseling one could ever expect.

Although, there are some things I bet you will expect while watching it, and while the fair Ms. Farahani is Iranian, this film is definitely French and becomes so the more it progresses.

Still something different to watch and contemplate (no Fatwa so far for the director). I did learn of Dari (a Farsi variant from Afghanistan, but I've no clue what native speakers of either thought about this film, and I would be curious.) Also the yellow burqa was an indelible image. I looked a little for Islamic symbolism for the same. Watching Farahani flip it on and still infuse that billowing robe with her energy was eye-catching. I did wonder as she went into a pharmacy at one point how people could quickly tell who is who in such a situation. I imagine it can be done, something about the specific burqa and how the woman moves within it....of course the voice, but it seems having a stunt double or misdirection/fake alibi by virtue of the burqa could happen.

Probably identifying women in their burqas is easier than I can imagine, but perhaps misleading mullahs is easier than they too can imagine? Let me know when that film is made ;> The film definitely felt more like a play come to the big screen than a book, but perhaps the book was streamlined to fit. Guess I'd recommend trying to read it first, but watching the film is worth one's while, especially for fawning fans of Farahani.

By the way, perhaps leaving some stones unturned is okay?

Noted Afghan born writer/director Atiq Rahimi adapts his own prize-winning novel to a screen drama in The Patience Stone.

It is the story a nameless Muslim Woman (Golshifteh Farahani) caught in the cusp of a fierce war zone in an unnamed country (what could probably be Afghanistan). She is tending to her much aged husband (nameless gain), a wounded warrior who is presently in a vegetative state with no apparent sign of life or senses. Early in the movie when the onset of war is obvious, she packs off her two children to a safe haven. However, she is forced to stay on to look after her husband. A husband whom she had not met even after her marriage. She married a photograph of him as he was fighting for the cause.

On his return, the husband turns out to be an oppressive and conservative person in stark contrast to all her dreams. Now, on finding him in a comatose deaf-mute state, she, for the first time since her marriage, feels a surge of freedom. She sees him as the titular mythological Syngue Sabour or The Patience Stone to which one can pour one's heart out without any inhibitions. She feels herself recounting to him her deepest feelings and secrets to a great cathartic and therapeutic effect.

The movie, in most part, is a monologue, by the woman played by Golshifteh Farahani, confiding her secrets to her husband. The marvellous actress delivers a stellar performance which is the keystone holding the entire movie together. In a performance that straddles a whole spectrum of emotions, she forges an immediate and compelling connect with the viewers and keeps them emotionally invested in the story.

Writer/Director Atiq Rahimi provides snapshots of the social and political conditions of the region. While Farahani's narrative reveals the ultra conservative male dominated society with little, if any, freedom or respect for women, her travails during the ongoing war point to the existential crisis that hounds the populace there.

Universities across the world put forward that humans choose their own partner and marriage, and that everyone is the same as a Western person. Yet we know that this isn't the case.

This film presents the life of an Afghan woman, who is in an arranged marriage, and if he dies, she will simply be married off to one of his brothers. It's an environment where there is no love between husband and wife. The film gives a rare presentation of the lives of women in the non-Western world. It's probably the best film I've seen to do this. Actress Golshifteh Farahani does a great job of presenting the material in a warm and likable fashion.

It's worth watching and thinking about. A little slow, but very well made, scripted and acted. Very watchable.

If you're interested in what life is like for non-Western women, it's definitely worth seeing.

The Patience Stone is based on an old Persian fable about a stone to whom one can confide all one's problems and worries. Here though the stone is an Afghan man, reduced to a vegetable state by the war. His wife (Golshifteh Farahani) uses his inability to comprehend and talk back to tell him things that she would not dare to say otherwise. With his disability she's been left to feed herself, her two children and continue buying medicine to keep her husband alive. The only job available for an Afghan woman in her desperate situation it seems is prostitution.

Atiq Rahimi has directed from his own novel. He wrote the script with the renowned veteran screen writer Jean-Claude Carrierre. It is, I feel, a story best suited to theatre with its long monologues. The film however, belongs to and is carried by Golshifteh Farahani's magnificent performance. This is a very tough role where she has to, for most part, talk to a body lying motionless and unresponsive on the ground, unable to engage in any dialogue. A poetic film which is not for all tastes but which will richly reward those who appreciate its form and messages.

In a war-torn Muslim nation (that we can presume is Afghanistan) we are introduced to a young woman (Golshifteh Farahani) who is trying to look after her two young daughters whilst their father is lying lifeless on a mattress with a bullet hole in his neck. His colleagues have long deserted them and so she must try - with the help of a nearby aunt (Hassina Burgan) - to keep her family safe whilst nursing her husband as best she can. There are militia everywhere and with him paralysed on the floor, she has to find ingenious ways to try and hide him from their murderous hands. As the days pass, she begins to talk to the man (and us) and that provides for much of the fairly traumatic backstory that sees her exposed to brutality, indifference and negligence since childhood. She also has an encounter with the local commander whom she convinces she sells her body "for the pleasure of men". He is disgusted but seems to have mentioned this to his men as a nervous young man (Massi Mrowat) appears on the doorstep ostensibly just looking to pay for sex but actually he is in need of a great deal more. Vulnerabilities are rife amidst the chaos of war. Gradually, her memories become more descriptive, more explicit and by the conclusion we know much more about her than perhaps she had realised. Is he listening, though? It's most unusual to have an incapacitated man, on death's door, serving as a conduit for a story like this but it works effectively. She tells us a story riddled with persecution - physically and intellectually and once she has opened the floodgates, her resentment pours out. It's not a rant, there's not really that much rancour. It is a measured and rational evaluation of her life and of her treatment by those she loved and who were supposed to care for her in return. It invites us to critique the austerity of her faith, and of her sex's role within that framework, without telling us exactly what to think. Any judgements here are ours. It can get a little repetitive at times but Faharani exudes a sense of intensity that does make this quite a poignant watch.