Panahi, Jafar

The Circle

It's a girl. The first words spoken in Jafar Panahi's The Circle should be celebratory, but instead the mood of the scene is mournful. The relatives will be furious. Director Jafar Panahi leaves the innocence of his delightful The White Balloon behind in this harrowing, passionate portrait of the plight women endured in Iran before the easing of strict Muslim law. His vision of women scrambling through streets and dodging cops like fugitives in a police state is more of a nightmarish fable than a realist drama, but no less affecting for it. Panahi drifts through the stories of a handful of women recently released from prison (their crimes are left ominously vague) with an easy grace and an angry sense of injustice that brings us full circle: back to prison, where a cell door shuts with a deafening clang that reverberates through the credits and beyond. --Sean Axmaker

Crimson Gold (Alternate Cover)

Two master filmmakers, Abba Kiarostami (A Taste of Cherry) and Jafar Panahi (The Circle), team up as writer and director, respectively (as they did on 1996's The White Balloon), on Crimson Gold, a subtle tragedy about class conflict in Iran. Hussein (Hossain Emadeddin) is a lumbering veteran swollen by cortisone (for war-induced pain) and reduced to delivering pizzas at night. (He is frequently lost in a mental semi-fog during the days.) Witness to the rewards and vanities of the wealthy, insulted when a jewelry shop owner won't allow him in his store, and under pressure to get married, Hussein awkwardly aspires for higher ground but is more familiar with a life of marginal importance. When an eccentric socialite gives him a taste of luxury, something desperate is unleashed. Panahi brings his feel for and vision of the expansive ordinary, for the near-invisible forces churning within characters in seemingly throwaway circumstances. A haunting film. --Tom Keogh

Award-winning filmmaker Jafar Panahi's (The White Balloon, The Circle) latest triumph is an intimate and absorbing drama about the ways in which the hypocrisies and slights of daily life can push otherwise reasonable people over the edge. Based on true events and written by acclaimed director Abbas Kiarostami (A Taste of Cherry), CRIMSON GOLD is the story of Hussein, a humble pizza deliveryman who feels continually humiliated by the injustices he sees all around him. When his friend Ali finds a receipt for a stranger's necklace purchase, Hussein is stunned by its exceptionally high cost. He knows that his pitiful salary will never be enough to afford such a luxury. Soon after, he and Ali are refused entry to an uptown jewelry store because of their scruffy appearances; his rage over this slight sets off a series of events. But Hussein will taste the luxurious life for one night before his deep feelings of humiliation push him over the edge. DVD extras include: 5.1, trailer, subtitle control, weblinks, Interview with director Jafar Panahi

Crimson Gold

Two master filmmakers, Abba Kiarostami (A Taste of Cherry) and Jafar Panahi (The Circle), team up as writer and director, respectively (as they did on 1996's The White Balloon), on Crimson Gold, a subtle tragedy about class conflict in Iran. Hussein (Hossain Emadeddin) is a lumbering veteran swollen by cortisone (for war-induced pain) and reduced to delivering pizzas at night. (He is frequently lost in a mental semi-fog during the days.) Witness to the rewards and vanities of the wealthy, insulted when a jewelry shop owner won't allow him in his store, and under pressure to get married, Hussein awkwardly aspires for higher ground but is more familiar with a life of marginal importance. When an eccentric socialite gives him a taste of luxury, something desperate is unleashed. Panahi brings his feel for and vision of the expansive ordinary, for the near-invisible forces churning within characters in seemingly throwaway circumstances. A haunting film. --Tom Keogh

Award-winning filmmaker Jafar Panahi's (The White Balloon, The Circle) latest triumph is an intimate and absorbing drama about the ways in which the hypocrisies and slights of daily life can push otherwise reasonable people over the edge. Based on true events and written by acclaimed director Abbas Kiarostami (A Taste of Cherry), CRIMSON GOLD is the story of Hussein, a humble pizza deliveryman who feels continually humiliated by the injustices he sees all around him. When his friend Ali finds a receipt for a stranger's necklace purchase, Hussein is stunned by its exceptionally high cost. He knows that his pitiful salary will never be enough to afford such a luxury. Soon after, he and Ali are refused entry to an uptown jewelry store because of their scruffy appearances; his rage over this slight sets off a series of events. But Hussein will taste the luxurious life for one night before his deep feelings of humiliation push him over the edge. DVD extras include: 5.1, trailer, subtitle control, weblinks, Interview with director Jafar Panahi

The Mirror

When a young girl becomes lost in the hustle and bustle of Tehran, her journey turns into a dazzling exercise on the nature of film itself. In this ingenious and daringly original feature, world renounced director Jafar Panahi (The White Balloon, Crimson Gold) has wrapped a blunt political critique inside the layers of a deceptively simple film.

The Circle (Dayereh)

It's a girl. The first words spoken in Jafar Panahi's The Circle should be celebratory, but instead the mood of the scene is mournful. The relatives will be furious. Director Jafar Panahi leaves the innocence of his delightful The White Balloon behind in this harrowing, passionate portrait of the plight women endured in Iran before the easing of strict Muslim law. His vision of women scrambling through streets and dodging cops like fugitives in a police state is more of a nightmarish fable than a realist drama, but no less affecting for it. Panahi drifts through the stories of a handful of women recently released from prison (their crimes are left ominously vague) with an easy grace and an angry sense of injustice that brings us full circle: back to prison, where a cell door shuts with a deafening clang that reverberates through the credits and beyond. --Sean Axmaker