The Day I Became a Woman

I saw "Roozi khe zan shodam" ("The Day I Became a Woman") a few days ago during the Memorial Day holiday. It was a good film with strong, subtle acting and quite interesting camera shots.

In a nutshell, the film is about women in contemporary Iran. It depicts compelling accounts about a girl who has just turned nine and is now therefore considered to be a woman and expected to leave childhood play behind; a woman's bicycle race and the strong objection a husband has to his wife's participation; and an elderly woman who has in earlier life deferred her desires to buy consumer goods and finally has the opportunity to realize her spending dreams.

Without having lived in or even visited Iran, I can't judge the realism of "Roozi khe zan shodam". The camera offers us an innocent, child-like eye, just observing these characters and leaving us to draw our own conclusions. I particularly enjoyed the cinematography of the mass of women cyclists, all clad in black practically head to foot, pedaling away almost entirely in silence except for the rhythmic pedaling noises; and the parallel shots focusing on the legs of the galloping horses, carrying the complaining husband and his cohorts. The pedaling wife Ahoo (Shabnam Tolui) never speaks a word, but her focused and desperate efforts indicate her quest for increased independence. I also enjoyed following the activities of 9-year-old Hava (Fatemeh Cherag Akhar).

I would see "Roozi khe zan shodam" again for its cinematography and the unique (at least for Western audiences) life experiences depicted. It's by no means Hollywood fare or even overtly feminist, but allows the viewer to settle in for a bit of (realistic or stylized?) local color and look at perspectives there of women in three different stages in their lives.

I felt the need to defend this film as I don't believe it deserves the above rant. It is true that we are not given many details about the three characters whose stories are presented. But we are given enough to feel sympathy for the girl whose childhood is over, the woman who just wants to be allowed to ride her bike, and the woman who was finally able to buy the things she's always wanted. The English title evokes an expectation that each of these stories represents a transition.

As a woman, it sometimes occurs to me to wonder what that means exactly. This film explores the fact of being a woman and what it means to become one. Was Hoora not a woman before today? We are left to imagine what her life was like before and what brought her to this circumstance, but clearly these details are not so important.

This film is an exploration, not a documentary. It is beautiful and bittersweet (and personally I liked the music) It is not Hollywood by any standard but it is not complicated and even to a Westerner like me it held a lot of truth. It's purpose can be as much to explore one's own views as those of the Iranian filmmaker, and should be viewed as a piece of art rather than a mainstream American movie. Give it a chance, it's only 74 minutes.

I had completely forgotten about this movie, until I had a dream about the bicycles and the beach at the end. The more I thought back, the more I wanted to see it again.

I know this film has a very firm political message, but the images are so simple, universal and kinda powerful they linger with you, or at least have with me for years.

Three stories, none of which connect, about woman living in Iran, a young girl who finds out she has has to go to the "all girls" school soon, leaving behind her male friends, a woman bicycles away from her wedding and refuses to pull over, an and elderly woman whose husband is dead who can now do what she has always wanted, create the home of her dreams, with furniture right along the beach; a house without walls.

Effective, original, and poignant. When does one, become a woman(or man), and why? How is it different for each character, how is it the same, and what does is spell out once it's all putt together? ...almost makes me want to learn to ride a bike.

This is a beautifully shot, richly textured film. Its decidedly surrealist elements do not detract from its poignant central message: that the arbitrary social conventions which govern womens' lives in Iran are inherently absurd. What is so striking about this film is the way in which the director brings out this element of absurdity by transplanting an Iranian narrative onto the bizarre setting of Kish Island, a free trade zone and resort off the coast of Iran. The women in the film are all forced to play out the roles assigned for them by Iranian society, despite the virtual absence of the state, which is so often demonized in treatments of Iranian women's lives.

It was, in some ways, a strange film. Its' use of symbolism, combined with the mystery of incomplete plots gave it a unique look, and oddly made the film better than it probably is. There are folks who won't care much for this film, but I found it a charming and poignant look at the status of women in Islamic nations. How tradition is clashing with changing times.

I liked the first segment best, because of it's sweet sadness. I next like the third segment, because the old lady was quite charming. And though I did like the middle segment, I found it the hardest to follow and understand.

This isn't a great film, but it is a very good one. Technically it's below what I've come to expect from a film, but it conveys it's message well and does so with bittersweet sadness which works well for this film. It may be an Iranian "feminist" movie, but it's worth a look.