Interview with Mehrnaz Saeed-Vafa
Women in Beyzaie’s films emerge as powerful figures of autonomy, memory, myth, and resistance within Iranian cinema.
Mehrnaz Saeed-Vafa is a distinguished filmmaker, critic, and Professor Emerita of Cinema and Television Arts at Columbia College Chicago. She is the co-founder and artistic advisor of the Annual Festival of Iranian Films at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago, a position she has held since 1989. As a prominent figure in Iranian film studies, she has published numerous articles and essays on the evolution of Iranian cinema. One of her most influential scholarly contributions is the book she co-authored with Jonathan Rosenbaum on the renowned filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. Having lived and worked across two distinct cultural landscapes, Saeed-Vafa offers a profound comparative perspective on Iran’s intellectual cinema, particularly in relation to narrative structures and gender dynamics. In this dialogue, we explore the representation of women within the cinematic universe of Bahram Beyzaie through the lens of her extensive expertise.
Many critics view “the woman” as the pivotal theme in Beyzaie’s filmography. In your opinion, is the female figure an independent subject in his cinematic world, or does Beyzaie use her primarily as a vessel to narrate broader concepts such as history, identity, and the struggle against tradition? In other words, is there any motif in his intellectual hierarchy that stands on par with, or even transcends, the question of women?
The representation of strong women in Beyzaie’s films is unique in Iranian cinema. Not only are they at the core of his films, but they also guide us toward an understanding of our historical, mythical, and cultural roots, particularly in his pre-revolutionary films. The role of women develops with each of Beyzaie’s films. For example, in his first feature, Downpour (1971), we learn more about the two male protagonists than about the woman they both love. In The Crow (The Raven, 1976), however, the two leading female characters play a more predominant and central role than the male characters. In other words, it is the women who advance the narrative and draw attention to our past history. In Bashu and The Ballad of Tara, women are shown to be more in tune with nature, more independent, more powerful, and more in control of their lives. They challenge the traditions of their communities in pursuit of their own agendas.
From his first three films — Downpour, Stranger and the Fog, and The Crow — produced before the 1979 Revolution, to his post-revolutionary works, there is a clear evolution in form and content. Do you perceive a rupture or a shift in his approach to the “woman question”? For instance, do the female characters in his later works, such as Nai in Bashu or Golrokh in Killing Mad Dogs, appear more agentic or grounded compared to his earlier archetypal women?
I think the change in style and in the representation of women characters is more noticeable in his last two films, Killing Mad Dogs (2001) and When We Are All Asleep (2009). They are disappointing and resentful expressions of Beyzaie’s view of the condition of filmmaking in Iran, where creativity is hindered rather than fostered.
In what ways do the female protagonists in these two works transform, and how do you interpret this shift?
The agendas of the leading women in both Killing Mad Dogs and When We Are All Asleep are more literal than allegorical. The leading character in Killing Mad Dogs is a strong woman who fights to free her imprisoned husband, whom she believes to be innocent. Her environment is a large, polluted, cruel city populated by dishonest men, including her own deceitful and manipulative husband. She has to confront a large group of men who represent a threatening patriarchal society. Yet she is clever enough to challenge them all and succeed in her goal. The woman in When We Are All Asleep is strong and empathetic. But here, she, along with her male colleagues, is subjected to a dominant, corrupt system of power and greed. The styles of both films differ greatly from Beyzaie’s earlier films, as his social criticism became more direct.
The Ballad of Tara was the first film banned after the 1979 Revolution. Beyond the surface-level reasons, to what extent was its censorship tied to the representation of Tara — a woman in dialogue with myth and history who refuses to conform to the gender clichés of her time? Could we argue that feminine power in Beyzaie’s cinema was more threatening to the established order than outward appearances such as the hijab?
Beyond the issue of hijab, Tara portrays a liberated woman. She chooses whom she wants to marry and pursues whom she desires. She challenges men and old traditions, and she is in control of her life. Moreover, Susan Taslimi, as a strong and powerful actor, was, according to Beyzaie himself, the main reason for the film’s banning.
In the context of Iranian cinema, among his contemporaries or the younger generation, is there any other filmmaker who has placed women at the structural core of their work as he did? What is the fundamental difference between Beyzaie’s female subject and the female characters of other intellectual filmmakers, such as Dariush Mehrjui? Does the difference lie in their respective visions of female liberation?
The Iranian New Wave of the 1960s and 1970s has few examples of central female roles. Notable examples include Ebrahim Golestan’s Brick and Mirror (1965) and Mohammad Reza Aslani’s The Chess of the Wind (1976). Post-revolutionary Iranian cinema is full of films with women as protagonists. But Beyzaie’s female characters, especially those in his pre-revolutionary films, have different concerns and are more nuanced and complex.
What formal or thematic appeal does Beyzaie’s cinema hold for a Western or non-Iranian audience? Given that his work is deeply rooted in Iranian history and mythology, has his unique gaze on women served as a bridge for global audiences, or has it led to cultural misunderstandings and a loss of nuance in translation?
It is hard to say how Western audiences would react to Beyzaie’s films, especially given the limited availability of translated Iranian literature in the West. Most of his films have not been accessible to Western audiences. Recently, however, a number of them have been restored, and hopefully they will be released very soon. Some of Beyzaie’s films may remain underappreciated because of their use of language and their references to Iranian literature, folklore, and history.
Do you believe the sophisticated and archaic language of Beyzaie’s female characters grants them a unique agency? Or, conversely, does it cause their voices to be drowned out by the weight of a historically masculine and patriarchal vocabulary?
I am not sure I understand your question. The unique agency of women in Beyzaie’s films lies in their independence, their autonomy to make their own life choices, their intelligence, and their emotional power. Of course, women’s voices have been suppressed by patriarchal culture for many centuries. I think the unique treatment of women in Beyzaie’s films comes from his views of women and his respect for their creative roles in family and society.
Finally, I would be deeply grateful if, alongside your responses, you could suggest any specific articles or resources — your own or others’ — for further research on these themes.
Sorry, I have not read much analysis of his films. But now that he has passed, I am sure many scholars will write about him in English. Apparently, there are more publications on his cinema in Persian, but they may not be easily available outside Iran.
