O Corredor

If it's true that environment determines character then young Amiro must be something of a hero for having survived so well against such overwhelming odds. Orphaned and illiterate, he wanders the desolate waterfront of a nameless Iranian city, living each day on whatever loose change he can honestly acquire: selling ice water, shining shoes, or foraging for empty bottles at low tide (while oil-laden tankers line the distant horizon).

But the poverty of his surroundings can't dim the dignity of his spirit, in much the same way that the unflinching honesty of the film helps to give it an often exhilarating power. What passes for a storyline is closer in spirit to a cultural documentary, pieced together from several swift, abbreviated episodes leading to the final, profound image of Amiro exultant, holding aloft a large block of ice (the goal of one of his many running 'competitions') while the controlled fires of a nearby oil field rage in the background.

Director Amir Nader was fortunate to cast in the title role a young boy whose face betrays every emotion, from exuberance to heartbreak, and communicates his thoughts independent of the sometimes illegible English subtitles. In its own quiet way it's a stunning film, and a rare, rewarding glimpse of daily life in a little understood part of the world.

An excellent film. An auto biography of the director. The first film that brought the Iranian cinema to the attention of the world. In 1991, when it was shown in Washington DC, the Washington Post wrote of Amir Naderi "the best unknown filmmaker in the world."

Amir Naderi is a pivotal figure in Iranian cinema, both before and after the revolution. In fact, considering the past two decades, we can also observe his contributions to European and American cinema.

"Davandeh" (The Runner), etched in history as the first film made after the Iranian Islamic Revolution, bears the marks of this tumultuous period (with not even a single female cast member to fill the screen).

Perhaps due to Naderi's background as a photographer, he, along with cinematographer Firooz Malekzadeh, has captured some truly epic frames. So much so that I found myself wanting to pause and take screenshots at numerous points throughout the film.

While the film has been praised for its authentic portrayal of Iran's encounter with modernity, for Iranian cinema enthusiasts like myself, it presents a rather problematic progression and handling of the subject matter.

It's as if Naderi had a premonition of what was to befall Iran (he wouldn't have fled to the US if he didn't have foresight), and in the screenplay, he abandoned decades of Iranian cinema's know-how in favor of the Orientalism desired by Western cinema. This is evident in the scenes where European Union flags are conspicuously placed within the frame, and the protagonist's gaze towards them raises questions about the script's credibility.

As one of the rare Iranian films featuring the sea (and even a shark), it's likely that this very aspect secured its immediate acceptance into the Venice Film Festival.

We are confronted with an editing style and protagonist tracking that is quite unfamiliar to us in Iranian cinema (or at least to the world, and to us Turks, accustomed to Yesilcam Cinema). The majority of the scenes serve neither the main character's development arc nor the overall narrative.

Despite its inherent flaws, this film, a significant piece within the Iranian cinema landscape, was recently restored in 4K by Criterion. If you happen to come across it, I recommend at least a cursory viewing.

The Runner was perhaps the first of the post-revolution Iranian films to attract worldwide attention, ... and very deservedly so. It set the tone for many of the films which followed: realism, child's eye perspective of the world, innocence, gentleness, set in poor neighbourhoods, exposing great disparities in wealth, resting much of the film on the shoulders of one young actor, using children's lives as analogies for (or explicit expositions of) the problems of the adult world.

Majid Niroumand (Amiro) carries the film and is mesmerizing to watch. Amir Naderi was a famous director in pre-revolution Iran and was best known, if I'm not mistaken, for Tangseer (Tangsir). I've heard that this was the first in, what has been referred to as, "the Amiro trilogy". I would be very interested in finding out about the other two films.

This film still remains as my personal favourite.

It is a picture of an orphan boy Amiro living alone in an old ship, he enjoys racing with his friends and makes a living by collecting waste or empty bottles, selling ice water or shining shoes. The airplanes and the boats fascinate him: when they pass, far away in the mist, he screams: "Take me on board". This film just presents its story in a straightforward, objective, slice-of-life manner. I think that's why it's so great than other films which have tried to squeeze a tear from the viewers eye as a sensational expose of juvenile delinquency. The film neglects the focus on the mundane specifics of the boy's daily life and concentrates on the boy's inner, emotional ups and downs. And this is what gives the film near-universal appeal. The scenes in this film have been carefully staged by Naderi and his cinematographer, Firooz Malekzadeh, with superb moving-camera and panning shots, often with long-lens and short depth-of-field imagery, kept gracefully in frame. Madjid Niroumand is wonderful in the role of Amiro, you don't see young actors like this anymore: very rare this expressive, this natural, this charismatic, this confident in front of the camera and talented. Although of dramatic nature, there are elements of comedy in this great film. Amiro is often funny and so is his good friend, he is hilarious in every scene he shows up, even though his role is minor and he barely talks. I recommend this to everyone, see this atleast once, you will definitely add this in your list of favourite world cinemas.