Bachehaye Naft

11 year old boy in Masjed Soleyman, the southern Iranian oil center, is trying to earn a living with his mother and two sisters. Eight months after they last heard from his father who left for Kuwait as a temporary worker, they still owe money to a local man who holds their mule as collateral on his fathers loan. The interest is mounting and the man wants the 12 year old sister as his wife in exchange. The son tries a variety of ways to make money, including offloading concrete bags, taking back the mule to carry skimmed oil, and stealing flowers to sell on mourning day. Desperate to make enough to pay off the whole debt, the son bets with the local oil workers kids, that he can walk across a ravine on a high oil pipeline without falling.

This has a clear dramatic narrative, more like the films of Majid Majidi (Color of Paradise, Children of Heaven) than those of Abbas Kiarostami (The Wind Will Carry Us, Where is the Friend's Home?)

Children don't fight for their ideals, they usually live according to what they believe in. The Iranian Ebrahim Forouzesh paints a beautiful and painful portrait of children in his country, where playing is closer to life than in our western societies, where playing can be dangerously mixed up with fight for survival. And again, as it happens with Kiarostami, Mohsen and Samira Makhmalbaf, that yellowish tint of desert sand, the dry gardens of their lives, causing us anxiety and a sense of guilt. A rare work with children, a dramatic and realistic view over the real life on present Iran to be seen with open hearts.