necid-70967

I had a lot of expectations from this film, having been following Abramovic work, and appreciating it, for many years. I was disappointed. Marina 'tours' Brazil, seeking spiritual guidance and healing. She meets many types of healer saints and the film allows us a glimpse into the complex and varied means through which people try to alleviate their pain and despair. However the film carelessly drifts into a narcissistic journey, and everyone and everything in this film is about Marina's self indulgence. It suffers from two main shortcomings. Nothing about Brazil as a nation in crisis, and nothing about the way access to shooting had been obtained. There is a troubling sense of an ethical breach in this film: did all these people we watch really consented to being filmed? How was permission granted? How were the scenes arranged? Planned? Directed? The film could have been much more interesting if we as viewers understood more about the background, instead of forcing us to the not very interesting account of Marina's obviously very comfortable VIP travels. All in all, a pretentious documentary which leaves little to think about and enjoy at both the cinematographic and narrative levels.

Fans of Kusturica will not only recognize all the trademarks - the general hilarious feel, the music, the rhythm, the fast transitions from ugly to beautiful, from comic to tragic, from realism to surrealism - but will probably also enjoy them. To a degree. Because this film suffers precisely from that: we have seen it all before. Despairingly, no signs that Kusturica is exploring new grounds. Worse, it doesn't seem he is interested in exploring new grounds. Worst, it seems he doesn't care about offering anything new. On the contrary, this film is a kind of regression: the basic story is not interesting at best and sloppy at worst, the characters have no depth, and the machismo is as frustrating as ever. Don't expect subtle messages here, but do expect the bravado of another carnival. Having said all this, as the saying goes, the subversion of the cultural distinction between human and animals is pretty good.

Masterfully shot in Teheran, the film follows the ill fortunes of a theatrical married couple who, while rehearsing Miller's play Death of a Salesman, find themselves having to abandon their crumbling apartment and to seek alternative accommodation. The film is openly an allegory about social, urban and marital decay. But way beyond it, it is about the costs of masculine pride. By far more than a very good 'Iranian film', this is a superb statement about the unbearable consequences of trying to live up to codes of honour that centre on the female body. In my opinion, actress Taraneh Alidoosti is the hero of the film, both in her performance and in the role she occupies in the script. In contrast to appearances, she is the mover of everything that takes place in this fantastic film. A cinematic poem and a masterpiece in unfolding the twists of human psychology.