It’s tempting to view art, in whatever form it takes, with skepticism, to dig up the bones of Dadaists long gone and point out art’s failure as a force for social transformation. And with good reason: Art, indeed, has failed. For all the poets waxing poetic about poetry, writers proclaiming the power of the novel, painters exulting new visions, film critics singing the praises of cinema – for all that, art still hasn’t succeeded in saving us from the worst in ourselves. How many war films are there? War novels? War poems? In this beginning of the 21st century, we have more access to art communicating, representing and illustrating the horrors of war than ever. Yet we have Iraq. We have Israel and Palestine. We have all these conflicts driven by people who should have a better grasp of the human condition than those generations that preceded mass communication. However unpopular and unpalatable the conclusion is, art, and that includes the art of film, is not the grail of human endeavours we would like it to be. Overcoming that failure is the challenge that faces us.
Every so often, however, a work of art astonishes by achieving a kind of transcendental beauty – not in theological terms, but in the sense of going beyond aesthetics to touching something profoundly human. It may not stir up the long-awaited social revolution. It may not even evoke the undeniable personal transformative capacity of art, given the subjectivity inherent in the relationships between artist, art and audience. Yet in offering beauty that simultaneously engages and draws us into the art while communicating its message – however frightening, and true – some works make it clear that art cannot be dismissed altogether. “Persepolis,” an adaptation of Marjane Satrapi’s autobiographical graphic novels of the same name, is such a work.
Beauty, Drama
The images fueling the gracefully fluid animation in
“Persepolis” recall the “ligne claire” style employed by Hergé in his “Tintin” graphic novels: clear, precise, disciplined. But the comparison, of course, has its limits.
“Persepolis” isn’t a copycat; it presents its own distinctive style, an expressive imagination that doesn’t confine itself to realism but allows for the fantastic to convey tone and mood and atmosphere. Like the French animated film “Renaissance,” in which the lack of colour emphasized the neo-noir quality of the story, black and white defines the palette in
“Persepolis” and emphasizes the film’s melancholy heart. While colour sneaks in those scenes of an older Marji as she sits in an airport, the bulk of the film – reminiscences of her past – consists of bold blacks and vibrant whites with all the dynamic shades in between. It’s rather interesting to note that what colour there is in the film seems muted in comparison to the black and white, as if suggesting that what hope exists in the story – and there is hope – is burdened by uncertainty and caution.
If images are the film’s fuel, the story and characters are, naturally, its engine.
“Persepolis” relates the story of Satrapi’s childhood in Iran as the country suffers upheaval after upheaval. The daughter of parents whose Marxism puts them at risk, Marji and her family live through the revolution against the Shah only to experience the horrors of war with Iraq and the ever-strengthening grip of the dictatorship during the Islamic Revolution. There’s a history lesson, of course. It paints a picture of a troubled country struggling for freedom but hampered by the collision of fundamentalist religion and totalitarianism – a collision catalyzed by the influence of Western powers. To state the obvious, it’s a lesson that is not only topical considering the international tension surrounding Iran, but necessary given how many people don’t even understand that President Ahmadinejad, no matter how offensive his remarks, is more like the statue at the prow of a ship rather the pilot at the wheel.
Where the Personal and the Political Meet
But the film doesn’t feel like a history lesson, which is why it works so well. Almost blurring the lines between the personal and the political,
“Persepolis” stays resolutely focused on Marji and how, along with her family, she copes with the madness around her. From Marji’s childhood in Iran to her difficult teenaged years in Vienna, “Persepolis” is, above all, a human story filled with beautiful, charming characters – such as Marji herself, of course, introduced as a spirited child with ambitions of becoming a prophet, and her feisty, wise grandmother – and heartrending, but never overplayed, drama.
“Persepolis” is nuanced to be hopeful without sappiness, sad and outraged without petulant self-indulgence; an ode to liberty and an elegy for the victims of oppression. It is a wondrously immersive cinematic experience and, in the face of cynicism, makes a strong case for art’s hallowed place in the world. In short,
“Persepolis” is a masterpiece.
Entertainment Value: ** (out of two)
Technical Quality: ** (out of two)
Gold Star Awarded!
Persepolis. Written and directed by Vincent Paronnaud and Marjane Satrapi. Based on the graphic novel "Persepolis" by Marjane Satrapi. Featuring the voices of Chiara Mastroianni, Catherine Deneuve, Gabrielle Lopes, Danielle Darieu, and Simon Abkarian. 95 minutes. Rated PG-13 for mature thematic material including violent images, sexual references, language and brief drug content.
