pesarkhoobnaz

Who is the most famous Japanese person in the world?

Perhaps the answer is Oshin, the heroine of the popular NHK morning series, which was broadcast for a year from April 1983. With the cooperation of the Japan Foundation, NHK International produced the international edition of "Oshin" for worldwide distribution and eventually "Oshin" came to be aired in 59 countries and regions.

Reports say that in China alone, as many as 200 million people watched "Oshin", while in Iran, female Japanese tourists have often been addressed as "Oshin". The Indonesian broadcaster was flooded with protests from viewers because the series was being broadcast while supper was being prepared. There is no doubt about it ; Oshin stands alone in terms of her worldwide fame.

"Turtles Can Fly," the haunting new film from Iranian writer/director Bahman Ghobadi ("A Time for Drunken Horses"), begins with an arrestingly beautiful image: A young woman (Avaz Latif), resolute in her manner, stands barefoot on a rocky ledge, contemplating a leap that will surely end in death. The landscape is gray and forbidding; the light is cold; the tone ominous. Then the camera comes closer to the actress' face, wreathed in tangled brown hair, and we realize, with a start, that she is a child.

Ghobadi's film is a story of wounded children, a devastating reminder of the costs of war. It's set in an Iraqi village near the Turkish border, in early 2003, as the villagers await news of an American invasion. As they try to set up a satellite dish, a key player emerges: a boy known as Satellite (Soran Ebrahim), with Coke-bottle glasses and a pushy, ever-yelling confidence. He's the expert in this operation, in the way that kids worldwide seem to know more about technology than their elders, and he's also the ringleader of the village children, who follow him like loyal acolytes.

Satellite, in his bulldozer way, soon catches the eye of Agrin, the girl we saw in the opening scene, and he's dazzled by her, gazing at her with Mooney eyes. "I've been looking for a girl like you," he tells her. She, orphaned by war, takes care of her two brothers — one is armless, maimed by a land mine; the other is a toddler — and ignores Satellite. There's an air of quiet tragedy about her, the reason for which is explained late in the film, in a scene so wrenching it's almost unbearable to watch.

The performances in the film — all by nonprofessional actors — vary in quality. Ebrahim has some touching moments as Satellite but rarely varies his voice from a shout; it suits the character's almost corporate like personality but eventually becomes wearying. But Latif, as the tragic Agrin, makes the most of her few lines; she's calm, astonishingly beautiful and skilled enough to let us see the heavy weight on this grown-up child's shoulders.

Ghobadi and director of photography Shahriar Assadi linger on the vast landscape, with its bleak fields and desolate, branch less trees, and create some beautiful effects with shadows. (In one shot, the hills glow under a night-blue sky as the tiny shadow figure of a child appears between them.) And the director's eye for heartbreaking detail is keen. In this harsh, desperate world, a child cries, with no hands to wipe away his tears. Others stare at the camera, looking far older than they should, as if seeking the end of a nightmare.

Director Angelina Maccarone (EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE), winner 1998 Outfest Audience Award) returns with UNVEILED, a stunningly beautiful portrait of an Iranian refugee struggling between survival in small-town Germany and her love for a local woman.

Fariba, persecuted in Iran because of a lesbian relationship, flees to Germany but her application for asylum is rejected. When her fellow inmate, a man named Siamak, commits suicide, Fariba assumes his identity and is sent to a refugee camp in a small German village. At first her survival seems assured, but the strain of upholding her male disguise in the cramped refugee quarters means a single mistake could blow her cover - at great personal peril. In order to pay for forged documents, Fariba takes an illegal job in a sauerkraut factory, where she is harassed about not wanting to shower with the boys and about being Iranian. The only saving grace is a German woman named Anne, to whom she grows close - dangerously close - as Anne begins to suspect Fariba's true identity.

Striking cinematography and remarkable performances work together to tell a captivating story that reveals the struggles of refugees, the confines of gender and the power of love. This deeply moving, intimate yet universal film will stay with you long after the curtain closes.