The ‘What-ifs?’ of the Middle East

There are a lot of ‘what-ifs’ bouncing around the Middle East at the moment: speculation and hypothesis are rampant, but even these are subject to constant change and modification. Witness Syria, which renegged on it’s ‘peace plan:’ civilians continue to die each day. Or consider the Muslim Brotherhood, which has officially thrown it’s hat into the presidential election ring after consistent hem-hawing. News giant CNN has even jumped onto the speculation bandwagon, with articles on ‘Why American’s Should Care About Syria’ (which delved into the possible consequences of both pro-action and inaction in Syria) and ‘What if Israel Bombed Iran?’ which starts with,

 ”Imagine that you wake up tomorrow morning and discover that during the night. Israeli planes had conducted a bombing raid on Iran. How would your world have changed?”

 In honor of the sort of vague wave of speculation and uncertainty that has rooted itself in the present climate of the Middle East (replacing that wild wave of rioting and violence, although rioting and violence are obviously still continuing in certain countries), let’s take a look at some wild-card, vague what-if possibilities, because, as Kate Capshaw so cheesily reminds us in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, anything goes!

“Anything Goes” from Indiana Jones

The negative what-ifs

> What if Salafis overtook the Egyptian government?

Egypt’s Military rulers have pretty much made sure that this won’t ever happen, since they recently disqualified several promising presidential candidates from both the Salafist and Muslim Brotherhood parties. A strong Islamic rule over Egypt thus seems unlikely in the near future, but anything goes in Egypt, where protests seem to ignite every other day and people (a.k.a. the Military government and the police) keep pulling a fast one on the general public. However, if, perchance, this did happen, or a Muslim Brotherhood candidate decided to run less moderately than his party has been appearing to be as of late, the results would be possibly disastrous for Egypt, at least on an international level. Would tourism go back to pre-revolution times, if strict dress was required and Egypt’s clubs and beach resorts disappeared?

 >What if oil disappeared from Saudi Arabia/Middle East?

Ok, so this one isn’t happening relatively soon, but it’s worth throwing it out there anyway. Saudia Arabia itself is not the heyday country of endless public spending that it used to be, back when the oil was first discovered. In some of these countries, oil is the only thing keeping them afloat in the global economy. Take away the oil, and what do they have? Weak economies that don’t even produce food, let alone exports; unskilled (and, in the case of Saudi Arabia, unwilling) workers; and a lack of any other resources. Some of the Arab countries don’t even have natural water supplies, which makes the situation even more precarious. If the despotic and new-regime governments have the people’s (and their own) interests at heart, they should start boosting other sectors of the economy (once the rioting subsides).

>What if Iran bombed Israel?
CNN’s article discusses the possible outcomes of Israel bombing Iran. But what about if Iran somehow managed to bomb Israel? Would there be full-out retaliation (providing that Israel’s weapons weren’t hit?) The USA, in either scenario, would likely get involved-how could they not, seeing as supposed nuclear weapons are at stake and Israel is so closely tied with our government?-but this scenario, out of all the rest, would affect the world the most. Oil prices would probably go up, the Middle East would probably explode (with celebrating? with shame?) into even greater turmoil, and Iran would certainly become even more of a pariah than it already is.
>What if Bashar Al-Assad doesn’t step down?

This is the biggest question of all, and is being asked on a daily basis by the international community. It doesn’t seem likely that the USA/NATO will intervene. The United Nations probably won’t, either; after all, it’s been over a year now and al-Assad is still hanging in there. It seems unlikely that the Syrians will cave in, but a good fact to point out is that, unlike in Libya, where the rebels were strongly against Gaddhafi loyalists, there doesn’t seem to be a huge split between pro-Assad citizens and the protesting body.

…..And now the positive ‘what-ifs’
 
>What if women were granted equal rights?

Would men lose rights? Would children suffer as their mother’s joined the workforce, gained hobbies, spent less time at home? Would houses go uncleaned and fester, would food go uncooked, would families break down and split apart? Would men have more sex, or less? Would society’s morals scatter to the wind? Would immorality reign? Would women become more competitive and self-absorbed? Would Islam be insulted? Would Middle Eastern society, in effect, cease to exist? No, no, no and, oh, no! There really are only positive benefits to this eternal ‘what-if.’

 
>What if Israel gave Palestinian’s the right to govern themselves and withdrew?

 At the moment, this seems highly unlikely, given that France’s Le Monde reported that both countries are at an extreme impasse and unwilling to even talk. What with the constant hunger strikes and international media attention, Palestine on any level seems an impossibility. But if Israel did experience a coup de coeur and decide to give freedom to it’s Palestinian brothers, I could only hope that the Middle East would rejoice, and that Muslims and Christians could live side by side as they did in the past (kinda seems impossible in today’s climate, but if it was possible then, it’s possible now!)
 
>What if Ahmadinejad was no longer president of Iran?

I don’t think it’s a stretch that if the Iranian government was replaced, that Iran would probably embrace freedom and reopen it’s doors to the rest of the world. Is it solely Ahmadinejad that embodies what was started by Khomeini and the Islamic Revolution? Of course not, but it seems that the Iranian government rallies around a central figure to dominate. If revolution did occur in Iran, I believe it would be better organized and a lot more peaceful than the other Arab Spring Revolutions, because the Iranians are proud of their heritage, their religion, and culture and I believe that in the aftermath of such a revolution, that they would quickly unite to form a new, stable government.

All of these what-ifs are important questions. Are my speculations

realistic or not?

Who knows? When it  comes to the Middle East au moment, anything

goes!

S-L-M

Dreams of World’s Long Lost

“The question of the real Iran kept coming up in discussions between my parents and friends. Which was more legitimate: the ancient traditions with which the Shah propped up his power, or the strict Islamic principals of Khomeini?” (p. 119)

The Empress Farah Pahlavi of Iran and her children, courtesy of theimageworks.com

Iran was once a country where Western law ruled the land, not blown-up exaggerated Islamic shariah law. Women were at one point banned from wearing the veil, not as they are today, where they are banned from going bare in public. Art, music, friendship, religion and, most importantly of all, freedom flourished.

Likewise, Egypt was once a country were Westerner’s were welcomed, not viewed with suspicious eyes or bombarded with questions.Women were more apt to be seen in fancy Parisian-style wear, and the langage du jour was French or English or Italian, not Arabic. As in Iran, the rich and simply comfortable were able to-and encouraged-to enjoy life, drinking and attending parties.

To be sure, neither of these countries were perfect. 1940s and 1950s Cairo saw intense corruption at the hands of King Farouk. Iran’s attempts to quell religion were just as wrong as it’s attempts now to quell individualism and freedom of choice, and the Shah was not innocent in his rule. But, given the choice, I would have lived in either of these eras in a heartbeat, as they are vastly more alluring than the current climates in either one of these magnificent countries.

Things I’ve Been Silent About, acclaimed writer Azar Nafisi’s autobiography about her life in Tehran and being the daughter of two political figures, is a shocking portrait of pre- and post- Revolution Iran. Her recounting of a lovely, if a bit-spoiled childhood growing up in Tehran is almost unbelievable when one contrasts it with modern life in the city today. Although Nafisi has been accused of painting Tehran in black and white and being a promoter of colonialism, the fact remains that this is what life was like in Tehran; her life was one shared by many others.

Things I’ve Been Silent About’s literary counterpart is none other than The Man in the White Sharkskin Suit, an autobiographical look at author Lucette Lagnado’s family’s history in Cairo and their subsequent exodus from Egypt. The two books are immensely similar. Two young women grow up in cosmopolitan, worldly cities, only to one day more or less be forced to leave the countrys that they loved and cherished: Nafisi permanently moved to the USA with her family after watching Iran crumble before her, and being subjected to house arrest of a sort; Lagnado’s family was more or less compelled to leave Egypt when she was only seven. The reason? They were Jewish.

It was rather interesting to read an account of Jewish life in Cairo. Jewish life in Cairo–does that even exist anymore? There might still be a few Jewish families left, but they most likely practice their faith in secrecy behind closed doors. Lagnado’s book gave us a look at what the Middle East would look like if the governments were more accepting of all their citizens. During the 1940s and 1950s, Cairo seemed to rival any European destination for glamour, prestige, and diversity. Lagnado describes her father schmoozing with British soldiers, her mother conversing in Italian, Americans and Eastern Europeans wandering around in addition to the traditional Egyptians. Her family was Jewish, but they weren’t frowned upon nor ostracized, nor was anyone else (though she does admit that Arabs often weren’t allowed into places like Groppi’s, the upscale bakery that sounds like it would have put Paris’ Laduree to shame).

“Suzette [Lagnado's sister] remembered an exuberant culture where religion mattered, but so did going out at night and reveling in all the LEvant offered. Our father, who now all but lived at shul, was the prime example of this dual existence, where faith and ritual had in no way hindered his ability to lead a rich and pleasure-filled life. In Egypt, it was easy to be religious and worldly at the same time, but that seemed an impossibility here in America.” (p. 227)

Women on the beach in Alexandria, Egypt; courtesy of foreignpolicy.com

Religious and worldly at the same time–this is the key that Middle Eastern countries are missing. Because the wave of radical Islam has swept over so much of the land, I feel that most people have forgotten that it is possible to follow their faith, and still enjoy themselves on Earth. It was actually depressing to realize that Cairo was the city of my dreams–French-speaking, lively, raucous, fancy, open-minded–once upon a time. To compare Lagnado’s Cairo with the Cairo I have experienced was almost impossible.

In fact, Lagnado describes a situation that takes place in Brooklyn that sounds more akin to what I have experienced in Cairo than anything else she describes that actually takes place in Egypt. Her sister Suzette attends a wedding in a sleeveless dress, only to have the older women run over to her with a jacket to cover herself, as they find the outfit inappropriate. The strangeness of this act is not lost on Suzette, who recalls these very women wearing all sorts of baring fashions back in Egypt.

“That was when she’d sworn to herself that she would leave, and have nothing to do anymorewith this community of expatriats who called themselves Egyptians but bore no resemblence whatsoever to the people she had known back in Egypt.” (p. 228)

It is a strange phenomenon, how people can suddenly forget the traditions and habits that they grew up with. Often times we change because of a great life-altering in our lives; in this case, the Jewish-Egyptians in Brooklyn were most likely changed because they had been uprooted from their homes and might have looked to more traditional interpretations of their faith, since faith was the only thing they had left. In any case, the situation reminds me of my experience dressing every day in Cairo, and how dumbfounded I was when I was told that my husband’s mother wore mini skirts in 1960s Cairo, but now wore a hijab. What was the life-altering event, I wondered, that caused her to shed her old ways? Why is it, in the case of the Middle East, that people have become so traditional and so strongly seem to reject most facets of the “modern world,” whereas people elsewhere in the world don’t put up such a fight?

Granted, I realized that the worlds that Nafisi and Lagnado had lived in were highly privledged worlds; the average Iranian or Egyptian didn’t have an endless parade of servants calling cars for them, or trips to custom tailors, or dinners with the leading politicians of the country. Nafisi and Lagnado, one could say, lived highly westernized lives; Nafisi’s book doesn’t so much as make one mention of her own Islamic faith, in that as I read the book I truly felt as though I was reading the autobiography of a Western girl with a family problems, albeit family problems that included her prominent father being jailed. As Nafisi claims,

“Political dissent in Iran is treated as a form of criminality; most offenders are tried on bogus charges and there is little room for defense.” (p. 140)

Isn’t this the case in most Islamic countries nowadays? Disagree with the regime, and you’re branded for life; the police will never leave you alone. Nafisi’s father was indeed jailed on bogus charges,and indeed had little room to defend himself. Although Lagnado’s family doesn’t have run-ins with the law, there is one incident that occurs which sparks their final decision to leave Egypt, in which her older sister is arrested for hanging out with foreign sailors. She didn’t do anything wrong, except fraternize with foreigners: at that point in time, Egypt was slowly becoming xenophobic and wary of those who bore any resemblance to the colonizers who had once lived in the land. Lagnado, reporting on her recent visit to Egypt (she was granted entry, despite signing papers never to return), describes a realization she makes about Egyptians:

“Malaka Nazli hadn’t simply been a place I realized but a state of mind. It was where you could find an extraordinary, breathtaking level of humanity. What it lacked in privacy, what it failed to provide by way of modern comforts–hot runningwater, showers, electric stoves, refrigerators, telephones–it more than made up for in mercy and compassion and tenderness and grace, those  ethereal qualities that make and keep us human.” (p. 332)

Her realization is important for several reasons, namely, that it shows that the people of Cairo hadn’t changed since her family had fled many years ago. This statement shows that in their hearts, the people of Cairo–and any other Islamic country–are still kind, empathizing human beings, and that it is the governments that try to dictate what the people want, that try to change society, that try to set the morals and values even when they are in strict contradiction to those that already existed. This is true in Iran–did Nafisi and her friends allow their hearts to be changed by the repressive revolutionary regime? No–it is true in Egypt, as Lagnado shows (after all, the new occupants of her old neighborhood building Malaka Nazli are all Muslim and yet they show her respect and true kindness) and it is most likely true in every other Islamic country where regimes have taken over regardless of what the people were or wanted.

Beyond what these two autobiographies teach the reader politically and culturally, at their heart they are open revelations of a family’s intimacy and secrets. Both Nafisi and Lagnado were deeply affected and moved by their overbearing and strong-willed parents, and their lives were shaped not only by society and increasingly oppresive governments but also by their families. In the end, it was their families that gave them a sense of who they were; it was their families that kept the traditions and cultures that they had held so dear alive. The ending quote of Things That I’ve Been Silent About sums it up best:

“After the Islamic Revolution I came to realize the fragility of our mundane existence, the ease with which all that you call home, all that gives you an identiy, a sense of self and belonging, can be taken away from you. I learned that what my father had given me through his stories was a way to make a home for myself that was not dependent on geography or nationality or anything that other people can take away from me. These stories could not gaurd me againstthe pain i felt at my parents loss; they did not offer consolation or closure. it was only after their deaths that i came to realize that they each in their own way had given me a portable home that safegaurds memory and is a constant resistance against the tyranny of man and of time.” (p. 314)

S-L-M

Hello, I Shall Seduce you with My General Womanliness

Books are not particularly sexy. A person’s eyes can be seductive, depending on the person. And wearing a headscarf and a bulky full-length coat? In general, not very sexy at all.

According to the Saudi  Commitee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice (also known as the morality police), women with attractive eyes might now be forced by law to cover them up. The ‘Virtue vs Vice

Even eyes are deemed too beautiful to be shown. Courtesy of allrashidmall.com

‘ committee (it appears that many Islamic countries have one of these) always makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time: cry, because they almost always are demeaning to women and the idea of such a committee is so against human rights; and laugh because, well, I cannot believe that these people are  permitted in the government when they clearly have issues.

Just when things seem to be looking ‘up’ for Saudi women (i.e. women were recently granted the right to vote in elections…in 2012) something as absurd as this happens to keep the freedom level in check. Hello, the barbaric men who go crazy at the sight of a woman’s eyes should be covered up (or, better yet, have their lusting hands handcuffed!), not the women. I’m guessing sunglasses might become a la mode if this ban takes place, but what I really want to know is:

Who’s going to be the Beauty Queen judges and decide what constitutes as a ‘seductive’ pair of eyes??

Next up on the banning block are books, or more specifically, Islamic Sex, a sort of “Sex manual” advocated by the Obedient Wives Club in Malaysia.  The Malaysian government wants to ban the book, which is odd when one considers that the book insists that wives be “subservient” and give in to their husbands  sexual needs.

Even still, the government ban on the book is not too surprising, given that sex is usually a touchy and private subject in Islam.   But the book is actually promoting a strict, stern way of thinking,and even though it’s line of thought is narrow-minded, it wouldn’t hurt the society to learn something about a topic that they often know little about.  What was most disturbing about this situation was the fact that the book was read by an organization called the Obedient Wives Club.

Who convinced these women to call themselves the ‘Obedient Wives Club’??

Scarves haven’t been banned in Iran, as they are part of the uniform women must wear when they leave the house, along with a manteau, or long coat. In Jafar Panahi’s 2000 film The Circle or Dawayeh (the same director of Offside)

A still of Nargess in her chador (from Dayereh). Courtesy of Iranian.com

follows several different women over the course of one day, highlighting the inequalities women face. Pari,a recently released convict, tries to enter a hospital to see an old friend. She is barred from entering unless she wears a chador, the traditional longblack cloack that Iranian women hold closed with their hands.  Never mind  that she already wears a scarf over her head and a long shapeless coat; apparently, that is deemed too sexy for any of the glum people visiting the hospital.

The women in The Circle  have officially been stripped of their physical sexiness, and society tries-as we see-to strip them of that other highly admirable quality: strength. A mother is stripped of her  child and pride when she decides to leave her daughter on the street. Nargess, another ex-convict, is stripped of her strength and power when she realizes she is too scared to board a bus for Azerbaijan. Physical or highly overt sexual objects-such as a woman’s hair, or a sex manual-are easily banned in Iran, but society just can’t resist desexualizing (and effectively dehumanizing) women further.

Towards the end of the film, we meet a woman moonlighting as a prostitute -her excuse? “Honey, will you pay the bills?”-who is caught when she enters a man’s car. Banned from the normal wiles that a prostitute would use to attract attention (heavy make-up; flashy, tight clothes) the woman is dressed like any other in Iran: in a head scarf and baggy attire. Yet her normal attire doesn’t stop a man from picking her up, nor does it stop the police from arresting her.  Even if she was wearing a burqa, the woman could still be picked up a prostitute. The scarf can’t be banned. So what’s next?

Are we going to star banning women? Because to a man, there isn’t a more sexual object than the mere presence of a woman, whether or not she  is baring her eyes, her skin, or is sexually knowledgeable!

S-L-M

Links:

1. “Saudi Women with Attractive Eyes Forced to Cover”: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2063143/Saudi-women-attractive-eyes-forced-cover-resolution-passed.html

2. “Malaysia to Ban ‘Obedient Wives Club’ Islamic Sex Book: http://bikyamasr.com/47242/malaysia-to-ban-obedient-wives-club-islamic-sex-book/

“Offside” is Right in the Center

A girl goes to watch a soccer match ( “football,” if you’re not American). She buys her ticket, finds her seat, and cheers on her team. She holds her breath as the team she supports nears a goal, she groans when the enemy team scores, and when it’s all over, she goes home.

This taken-for-granted act of women across the Western world is one that women in Iran would consider a luxury, or better yet, an impossibility. Even something as simple as a woman going to a football match is forbidden, and no, it’s not because the Iranian government doesn’t want it’s women to become a bunch of tomboys shirking their feminine duty. As the country-boy soldier Samandar says in Offside, it’s because the women will “hear curses that they shouldn’t listen to.” Well, that’s his take, anyways.

Films about the Middle East can be divided into two groups: those that are made just to tell a story, like any movie in Hollywood, and those that are meant (and usually created by a Western director, or a Middle Eastern director with a rebel bent) to show the world some aspect of Middle Eastern culture, which usually means displaying the abject poverty, hopelessness or infringement on civil rights that often exists in many of these countries. However, Jafar Panahi’s film Offside is quite refreshing in that he manages to take a dig at Iran’s ludicrous civil laws and sexism without making one feel miserable. The film tackles just one offshoot or facet of sexism in Iran-the fact that women are not allowed to go to a stadium to watch a sports match-and manages to cover it with humor and lightheartedness.

The film follows the “capture” of several girls who try to sneak into the stadium for Iran’s match against Iran that will qualify it to go to the World Cup games and are quickly caught, despite the fact that they are dressed as boys. Some of the girls are so well-dressed that even the soldiers remark: “Is it a she or he?”

The lovely “boys” listening to the final minutes of the match while en route to the Vice squad:

VERSUS

Their soldier captors (here, gleefully celebrating when Iran beats Bahrain).

The girls, who mock the Middle Eastern stereotype that all girls are docile, quiet and “girly,” are quite the characters and pretty brave (or crazy, if one is similarly football-obsessed) considering that their actions will eventually lead them to the Vice Squad, Iran’s version of the “morality police.” During most of the film they are kept in a pen right outside the stadium walls while waiting for the Army chief to arrive, thus teasing them as they can hear the crowd roar with delight or despair. There’s “Soldier Girl” who get’s to watch the game because she dresses in a rather-authentic military uniform; “Crybaby Girl”  who loses her uncle once they’re inside the stadium; “Chador-Girl”, who hides under the robe she brought when her friend’s father notices her; “Uppity Girl,” who looks very much like a boy and has quite the mouth; “SadGirl,” who tried to attend the game in testament  to her friend, and “Bathroom-Girl,” who stars in the film’s arguably most comedic moment when she demands to be taken to the bathroom. Seeing that she is still recognizable as a girl, the soldiers devise for her an ingenious mask out of a fan poster:

Barely able to see where she’s walking, she’s accompanied to the men’s bathroom(after all, only men’s facilities exist!) and an ensuing melee occurs as Tehrani boys try to enter the bathroom, not knowing that a girl is inside. She runs off while her captor is preoccupied, but eventually returns to the holding pen because she felt bad for the Samandar the country soldier and the cattle he grieves about.

The barbs traded between the girls and the soldiers are intensely funny, so one can only imagine how funny the film must be to a Farsi speaker. Sure, the girls are hitting at hard, cold, and silly truths–”So if I was born in Japan I could attend the match? I was born in the wrong country?”–but the actors are so great that the film is highly enjoyable

 What makes the film so natural and both funny and serious at the same time is that it is realistic. Sure, the characters spar fighting words at times, but the “debate” that goes on is a natural one; in “real life” (as opposed to Hollywood) this is how the scene would play out. The girls haven’t analyzed their points to perfection, complete with passionate speeches, and the boys aren’t stereotypically cruel and ignorant, nor are they stereo-typically charitable.

The final scene, one might say, is pure Hollywood, in that Iran wins the match and in the ensuing pandemonium on the street, the bus transporting the girls (and a firecracker-addicted male youth) stops and when the soldiers get out, the girls make a dash for it. One could almost say that it’s a cheesy perfect ending, except for one factor: apparently, the movie was actually filmed during a real-life match, which meant that the director had two outcomes in mind.

Docu-drama? “Real” fiction? However you want to peg Offside, one adjective should always be used: one-of-a-kind!

S-L-M

Links:

1. Offside on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbc5Fgvc1ko

Struggling for Song in “No One Knows About Persian Cats”

The other night I watched the film No One Knows About Persian Cats, a 2010 Iranian film released by IFC which, like most foreign films, is completely unknown to American viewers and thus totally dishonored.  The film, which highlights actual Iranian bands as it follows the loosely-scripted real-life story of the band Take It Easy Hospital (composed of Ashkan Kooshanejad and Negar Shaghaghi) as they try to get a backing band for their group in order to play in London, UK. Filmed in a documentary-cum-music-video style, with great shots of a country seldom seen to the West and an interesting soundtrack, the film blends Western ideas with universal wants on an all-too-Middle-Eastern background which presents an overall captivating but agenda-less work.

Box art for No one Knows about Persian Cats. Courtesy of the IFC website.

To an American who lives in a world of free speech, where every teenager with half an ounce of vocal or musical talent believes that they’re the next pop star, “Persian Cats” stands in an astonishing contrast. Here we have bands that, because of their lyrical content or style, are not allowed a permit, which is the only way one can legally play (even practice!) music in Iran. This sounds like it would crush the dream of every 14 year-old Iranian who dreams of thumping rock metal or gyrating like Britney Spears, but as the film shows, artists without permits will go to great lengths to continue their craft, even when the stakes are high (at the begining of the film, Ashkan and Negar are released from prison after being caught preforming without a permit). The camera follows the actors (it feels almost wrong to call them actors, and yet here they are, reinacting their story; perhaps docu-drama fits better?) as they tunnel through room after room, down multiple sets of stairs and alleyways, ducking into basements and past doors covered in sheets or up into tiny attics. What’s with the maze? The musicians have to find the most removed, isolated studios for their clandestine craft-thus underlining literally the meaning of “underground artists.” In the USA, “underground artists” mean artists that simply aren’t well known. In Iran, it means being oppressed musically and being forced literally, underground. One group even resorts to playing on a rooftop shack they built, and wait until their neighbors exit the building to commence the drums.
With some of the bands, one can easily see why the Iranian government would refuse them a permit. One band (which goes so far as to practice in a cowshed when their neighbors force them out) plays heavy death metal with Persian lyrics and death stares. Another one (which we meet on a floor of a construction site overlooking Tehran) is a rap group speaking about the injustices of poverty in their country. But some of them don’t seem so bad: take, for instance, the group that Hamed Behdad (Ashkan and Negars “manager”) sings in: it has a Persian rhythm to it, and male Persian dancers preform a clearly traditional dance as he sings.

The injustice that these bands cannot legally preform-let alone practice- is only tempered by the realization that, next door in Afghanistan, music itself was forbidden under Taliban rule, a fate that seems unbelievable. Ashkan and Negars band itself is pretty tame: Take it Easy Hospital (despite it’s emo name) is full of slightly-off-tune indie pop, the sort that contains lyrics that don’t seem to match up. Perhaps the Iranian government disliked the band simply because it is composed of a guy and a girl, who are in fact a couple, although the movie never, ever seems to make light of this.
Indeed, Negars presence in this movie seems, well, I wouldn’t say shocking but it certainly seems unusual. We find (or she finds herself) constantly surrounded by men: whether it’s in one of the clandestine meeting practice studios or

An image of the bands playing in a clandestine basement. Courtesy of the NY Times.

meeting with Hamed or riding on the back of a scooter, she is usually  the only girl ever present. As such, the viewer almost forgets that she is a girl, because no one seems to notice this distinction or make note of it. She wears black hipster glasses that underline her seriousness (she is always the voice of reasoning and practicality, gently nudging the boys along and verbalizing her and Ashkan’s wants in her soft-but-not-girly voice) and baggy clothes; perhaps if she dressed more overtly girlish or sexy her presence would be more formidable. Omnipresent is a large olive-coloured backpack that she wears in most scenes, as if to prove that she is a woman, for she is the burden bearer.

Negar seems free from restraint: there is no older brother or parent demanding to know where she is, that she come home; money doesn’t seem to be an objection, nor is the fact that she wanders around Tehran alone (as she does in the opening scene, where she arrives at a “real” recording studio and talks in her lost-and-delirious way with one of the studio producers). She even appears to have her own car, as evidenced by the fact that we  see her driving the band around. When a policeman pulls her and Ashkan over, he does not berate her for being in a car alone with a man: instead, he takes her dog away from her.
Thus, the Tehran that we are introduced to seems uneasy, unsure, a little bit lost. While there is an agenda, a plot to the film–the band is trying to get to London–and we are introduced to the themes/ideas of people struggling to speak freely, the film doesn’t push these ideas in one’s face. This is not a typical presentation of a clashes between ideals, East vs. West, old vs. new, although these forces do come out. Negars is a prime example: she wears a headscarf, but it is casually wrapped around her head so that her light-brown hair is clearly visible, as though she is torn between wanting to respect tradition and religion but also represent herself. In wearing the scarf undone, it appears that she is unsure of herself. Nader likes to speak English, and one day overhears Negars critiquing him for this, which is somewhat odd when one considers that her band preforms entirely in English.

Uneasiness seems to reign: perhaps it’s OK to sing in English, because it’s commercial and goes with their indie style better, but to speak English amongst Iranians is perhaps pretentious. The bands make some comments about the Americans, yet their music is clearly Western: modern rap, of the variety that the rap group preforms, was born in the urban frontiers of the USA; screamo-rock bears the influence of grunge a la Nirvana and Take it Easy Hospital’s brand of indie pop wouldn’t be out of place at a hipster bar in Brooklyn.The bands dream West, where they can play their music in the open, all except the rap group, which smartly states that their music “is for here, Tehran.” Indeed: their words speak to the public, to the government; their words critique their, Iranian, society, and would be out of place in the Western world of freedom. As I watched the movie, I couldn’t help but wonder what is the point? What is the point of making music if you’ll never get to play it for an audience? To never have your cries of social freedom and justice heard?
The answer is both literal and figurative. Negar and Ashkan defy the government by planning a secret concert in an underground room, always with the help of Hamed, himself a good study in the struggle of East vs. West. Hamed, who parrots bootleg DVDs and likes to drink alcohol–what does he get out of helping Negars and Ashkan? What is the point for helping struggling musicians who might never get anywhere? It certainly seems like they’ll be going nowhere, when the old man forgering their passports gets arrested. Hamed, who’s hopes and dreams seemed to be escaping back to London with the band, seems to question the reality of their musical struggle and subsequently gets drunk. No one knows about Persian Cats, as the film’s title suggests: no one knows about these bands, but to the bands, this does not matter. They seem determined that one day, some how, their words will break free of their cages and prisons and inspire the people they were meant for.
“I’ve been here alone/I’ve been here with you/…it’s a jungle out there,” go the lyrics in Take it Easy Hospital’s song “Human Jungle,” easily their best song (and, in my opinion, the best song in the movie; it certainly replayed in my ears after I’d finished watching). Is she talking about the tricky, dangerous jungle of Tehran, where police hide behind every corner, waiting for a bit of music to play? Is she talking about the jungle that is the world beyond Tehran, the West where the band has their eyes focused on? She could be talking about either one: no one knows, but it’s a fitting bit of lyricism.

At  the end of the film, when Negar and Ashkan go to rescue Nader from a party, the police arrive: to escape capture, Ashkan jumps out the window; the last we see of him, he’s being rushed to the ER. The very last image of the movie shows Negar appearing to back flip off a roof. It is a very vague scene that asks a million questions. Is she really on a roof? Is she trying to emulate Ashkan’s seemingly suicidal jump? If this was an American movie, the film would have ended with the band playing their planned concert triumphantly, basking in the glow of an audience. It would have ended on a note of hope and victory. Negars jump does not seem to be very hopeful: it seems like she has given up. Or has she? Perhaps she is escaping her cage.  No one knows.

S-L-M