DevikaSethi

Apart from the two main protagonists -- the seminarian and his wife -- this film has a third, albeit inanimate, one. A hand-woven Persian carpet in the making, stationed expectantly on its loom in the main part of the modest family home in Tehran. When illness and tragedy befall the family in the shape of a degenerative illness, it is the husband who takes over (yet another) task, that of completing the carpet, that was ably -- and almost invisibly-- done by the wife. The carpet, with its rich floral pattern and skeins of wool in dozens of colours waiting to be knotted, then cut, symbolizes not only a cherished Iranian artifact and a symbol of Persian civilization, but also the family's own life as new migrants in the city, forever being crafted, inch by inch, and forever threatening to unravel.

The seminarian, a devoted husband whose faith is tested, but doesn't waver, gets little or no assistance from his colleagues and teachers at the seminary. The only fellow student who helps him does not seem to be a serious student. There is a also a hospital employee, perhaps symbolizing the modern Iranian woman, disdainful towards religious figures, whose life is touched by the ailing woman.

The voice-over in the last few minutes of the film, a Mullah reciting a moral lesson to the effect that 'love cannot be learnt from a book' has profound implications for our understanding of the relationship between individual compassion and character, and the capacity of faith to mould that compassion.

A story set in one of Tehran's poorest neighbourhoods, where cobblers, construction workers and maids live around communal courtyards. Ali, the protagonist, struggles to study and help his mother by getting any job he can find. He ends up in a printer's shop, and the film tells the story of his rivalry with another boy in a cut-throat world. When faced with difficult choices (to tell on a co-worker for instance) he displays unwavering integrity, leading even his rival to commend him as a 'real man' at the end of the film.

Beautiful musical score featuring the Daf enlivens the film. There are memorable images, such as an aerial shot of a fruit seller pushing his way through a fight between two boys. A memorable dialogue: a typesetter, after detailing the hazards of the job, takes great pride in his work by saying that had there been no typesetters, there would be been no publications, no science, and no rockets!

Ali's mother, his father's old friend, and his colleagues at the printer's shop all perform their role with admirable natural-ness. Ali and Reza, the two teenage rivals, appear stilted at times.

A film portraying the 'average' lives of 'average' folks who nevertheless are capable of extraordinary acts of kindness.

This film is available on disk as part of a set of films released by the Khane Cinema (House of Cinema Association) in 2009.

Pervez Parastui, the lead actor of this film, is perhaps best known and best loved for his performance in the film 'Marmulak' (The Lizard), an allegorical tale of a convict-turned-cleric who escapes to a small Iranian village, and holds its residents in thrall. In that film, the allegory is obvious (which accounts for its troubles with the censors). In 'Twenty', the allegory is so subtle that while watching it I did not quite get it, but when alerted to this fact by a fantastic review by Kara Abdolmaleki in Tehran Review (link via 'critics' review' on the IMDb page for this film), all the elements in the film fell in to place beautifully.

In cycles of recession all over the world, one hears of the impact on human lives of unemployment. Here, it is not so much larger economic cycles but an individual-in-authority's decision to shut shop that affects all his employees, who live on the brink of survival in any case. Despite their individual and collective hardships, unique in each case, and sensitively portrayed by the actors, they still have the time and energy to fall in love, to show affection to a child, to match-make, to go for film auditions and so on. Parts of the film are laugh-out-loud funny (I particularly remember one scene where an activity of dusting a perfectionist's table is rendered sublime comedy by both the actors in the scene).

The soundtrack is exquisite -- the film begins and ends with haunting melodies on a classical persian 'tar', there are funeral dirges in some scenes setting the tone for the larger scenario, and there are -- alternatively uplifting and melancholy -- tunes on the accordion that are used to good effect.

Despite not knowing anything about the film in advance, I was lucky enough to get a chance to see it at a film festival. I recommend you beg, borrow, or steal a DVD NOW!