A review by Jeffrey Overstreet
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Rent The Circle sometime soon. It isn’t “entertainment.” It’s an education, and one that we sorely need.
Oh, well, now I’ve done it. I’ve probably just lost most of the people who started to read this review, and convinced others to avoid the movie. So let me add something else: It is also an enthralling, unforgettable film.
Director Jafar Panahi has brought to the screen a unique perspective on a corner of the world most people would rather not observe. The Middle East is ruled by religious beliefs and cultural traditions that ensure the ongoing oppression of women, and in Iran, arrogant leaders maintain social structures that perpetuate cruelty, abuse, and neglect.
Panahi’s camera follows several Iranian women through a few hours that pass like real time. Each one of them is disliked, abused, rejected, desperate, and eventually driven to crime. They dodge dangers that lurk on every corner. They have to keep their heads “properly” covered. Unless they are married, they are considered worthless. If they are single and pregnant, they are treated like dogs. Most of the time, they are simply ignored. It is hard for an American to imagine an environment like this, where fear influences one’s every move.
And yet, this is not make-believe. The Circle is a work of meticulous realism. It’s as naturalistic as dramatic films come these days. There are no special effects at work. The actors and cinematographers work so well together, it is as though you are watching a documentary. Several scenes let the camera roll uninterrupted. We follow the women down Tehran’s busy streets, into buildings, up stairways, through kitchens and hospitals, without a break.
How did Panahi pull this off, filming such a damning testimony of the behavior of the men of Tehran? The film is banned in Iran. Perhaps the men there simply cannot bear to see themselves and their behavior in a mirror. Or perhaps they would find it offensive, this suggestion that women are even worth considering.
The film begins with a brief exchange that gave me a chill I couldn’t shake through the rest of the picture: The back of a black head-covering fills a white screen; a woman is standing before a white door and knocking. The window in the door slides open and a white-clad nurse smiles and greets the visitor. The visitor inquires, and the nurse answers. The visitor repeats the question, and the nurse answers again. The visitor – we now know she is the grandmother of a woman who has just given birth – walks away. We see her face, pained, wracked with distress. She encounters another woman in the hall. “What’s the matter?” she is asked. “It’s a girl,” she replies.
In the next hour and a half, we follow three women who have just escaped from prison. We watch as they try to avoid the policemen, who are everywhere. One of them dreams of escaping to a “paradise”, and tries to bring along her friend. But her friend is reluctant… she finds it difficult to believe a better place exists. What good is a prison break, when the society beyond the walls of the cell is a prison in itself, one that is in many ways more dangerous.
Everywhere they turn, they are confronted with their lack of status and importance.
Without any sort of happy ending, we move on to another story: that of a woman who is pregnant and seeking an abortion. The injustice of her intent is drowned out by the injustices she suffers at every turn, leaving her desperate and afraid. Why, after all, would she want to have a child in a world where that child will likely be abused, neglected, and judged worthless?
She leads us to another story, of a woman who has a young daughter and is trying to abandon her. Not a pretty picture. Nor is the story of a defiant prostitute captured by the police. But interestingly, the prostitute is the only woman in the film with the courage to meet the gaze of a policeman. She exhibits some measure of pride and independence. She is learning to live in a sort of low-grade protest.
The viewer travels from one story to the next through smooth, clever transitions. The camera meanders from one story to the next, as if searching for a woman who can serve as a sign of hope to the others. That search is a hopeless one. It is as though the desperate women of the streets of Tehran have been given a megaphone, and they take turns telling their terrible story to the rest of the world. They must remain covered… why? Because their sexuality is considered dangerous. And yet, the men are clearly dangerous themselves, and no one attempts to restrain them as they treat the opposite sex with utter disregard and obscene arrogance.
The film stays so close-up these anxiety-lined, bruised faces that the viewer feels claustrophobic. This is a Kafka-like maze of abuse and oppression. There’s no escape in sight. You will find yourself wishing for an American-movie rescue. You’ll hope one of these women comes up with a clever plan. You’ll wait for the arrival of a team of humanitarian heroes. Or you’ll hope one of these villains shows mercy and changes his heart. But this is, sadly, the all-too-real world.
Panahi has given us a powerful 90 minutes, one that can inspire awareness, understanding, and compassion for a part of the world many would really rather ignore.
The Circle is like an urgent cry of distress from a princess imprisoned in a tower. But the tower is in the middle of a busy world, bustling with heartless, self-absorbed men who would laugh at the idea of a rescue. Everyone passing the scene is too busy worrying about their own security to bother with such a dilemma. We’re all very happy to pass the buck and let someone else worry about the problem. Most of us probably aren’t even aware that the tower exists, and that the women of the Middle East face trials of this nature every day.
One by one, Jafar Panahi’s characters show us a world that seems unimaginably confined and controlled. We are left with many tough questions: Why do we so rarely hear about this part of the world? Why isn’t anyone helping them?
It is a question for the leaders of those nations. It is a question for the leaders of other nations. And it is a question, of course, for us.
It would be arrogant to say that we can march in and change this situation. These traditions have lasted for centuries, and many of the people, even the oppressed, would not be interested in a Western-style democracy if it were handed to them on a silver platter. Some of the driving principles of Western culture run counter to some of their most fundamental religious convictions.
Nevertheless, we cannot afford to turn a blind eye to the differences between our cultures. Precious lives are crushed every day in that crucible, and the problem is likely to spread, to face us here if change is not inspired there. The Middle East is home to nations where hatred has hardened into cruel intent against the West. And it would do us well to study the reasons for this hatred. Is it provoked by actions we have taken against them? Or is it rooted in fundamental differences in our assumptions about good and evil, right and wrong? Or is it some combination of these things? Are there steps we can take to improve communication across this cultural divide?
These are questions for different artists to explore. Panahi has done his part by exposing the darkness on the streets of Iran. And it will be important to keep such stark and revealing visions at hand, so that our deliberations about future endeavors do not carry on in ignorance of the daily realities there. If we cannot take quick action to help such suffering people, we can at least take steps toward deeper understanding, more vigorous compassion, and prayer.
