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Forushande (The Salesman) is the story of a couple whose relationship begins to turn sour during their performance of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.
Prior to winning countless major accolades for his brilliant “A Separation,” director Asghar Farhadi used to be a playwright. It comes as no surprise, then, that his latest feature, the remarkably subtle and affecting “The Salesman,” centers around Arthur Miller’s famous play. While the titular “salesman” doesn’t die in Farhadi’s film (at least not in real life), Miller’s spirit is fervently alive throughout the narrative, its protagonist, similarly to Willy Loman, gradually coming to grips with reality. A deft meditation on political and personal oppression (and how the two intertwine), the crumbling of a marriage, revenge, status and the pursuit of happiness, all wrapped in a “contemplative-to-the-point-of-leisurely” thriller-like package, Farhadi’s commendable new entry into a decaying cinematic world is bound to bring him even more awards and recognition. Man’s already snagged A Palm d’Or nomination and two awards in Cannes: one for Best Screenplay and another for Best Actor.
The film starts with a rumble, and then a roar, as a building begins to cave in for no discernible reason, its inhabitants fleeing through shards of broken glass and down collapsing steps – among them, our “hero,” schoolteacher/theater actor Emad Etesami (Shahab Hosseini). A camera pan reveals a giant tractor, ripping through the building with its mechanical claws, disregarding the fact that there are still people inside.
Emad’s friend, Babak (Babak Karimi), offers temporary shelter to Emad and his “partner and wife” – and theater acting mate, Rana (Taraneh Alidoosti). An abandoned apartment, its previous female resident leaving next-to-no trace behind – except for a locked little room stuffed with her belongings – it doesn’t seem like the worst choice… at first. As things get revealed about that stranger – and a traumatic event occurs, rendering the Etesamis unsafe in their new abode – their relationship begins to disassemble, akin to their old building. Unable to seek help from the police – this would embarrass them for eternity in the eyes of the entire neighborhood, and lead to nothing anyway – Emad resorts to personal investigative methods, and a side of him, previously unknown to Rana, starts to surface.
The intense, heart-wrenching finale takes place in the same apartment the Etesamis fled at the start of the film, exemplifying the ouroboros-like nature of Farhadi’s narratives, but also displaying how cracks in a political regime that spawn such atrocities may ultimately lead to cracks in a personal relationship (the giant cracks on the walls of Etesamis’ apartment speak for themselves) – a catalyst, so to speak, that brings out the best and worst in people by putting them on the very edge of sanity. For instance, the Etesamis perform their play, over and over again, almost joylessly, because it’s an outlet for their creativity, but also, maybe subconsciously, to give the oppressive government – the same government that confiscated Emad’s “questionable” textbook choices and cut entire scenes out of Miller’s play – a big middle finger. “What a disaster, this town,” Emad says bitterly at one point. “If we could raze it all and start again…”
Those are the things that struck me in the film, but the beauty of “The Salesman” is that it’s open to interpretation (see interview with the director below, conducted after this review), raising controversial questions that will lead to hours of deliberation. Be warned: Farad’s film is a slow-burn drama-cum-thriller, with a strong emphasis on “slow-burn.” While thoughtful, assured and incisive, it doesn’t exactly get your heart racing until its final, gut-wrenching sequence, nor does it reach the epic heights of the director’s transcendent “A Separation.” But nor does it try. The acting from the two leads, filled with compassion, remorse, guilt, pride and love, is expectedly stellar (I wouldn’t have it any other way from the remarkable helmer). Compassion is key here, as all characters display moments of empathy that resonate in the grim setting: helping a disabled man out of a collapsing apartment complex; friends and neighbors sticking together during tumultuous times in this tainted, new setting; the offer of shelter in itself – though later rebuked – means a lot to our two hapless protagonists.
I had the privilege of sitting down with director Asghar Farhadi after the film. The man is eloquent, soft-spoken, passionate and very intelligent. All of those qualities are palpable in his work. Here’s hoping no salesman in the world could get the humble award-magnet to follow in the footsteps of his fellow indie directors, like Taika Waititi or J.A. Bayona, and make “Thor: Lost in Jurassic Park” next.
Interview With Director Asghar Farhadi (SPOILERS!):
Alex Saveliev: How did the idea for the film come about?
Asghar Farhadi: For many years I had the idea of a couple who would go rent a place, whose previous tenant was a prostitute. But the story was never complete enough for me to decide to make it – until one day, I came to the realization of what it was they did in life. I thought, if [Emad and Rana] are theater actors, it would help me a great deal to find a part that’s missing in my story. For them to be actors, what that means, is that they are individuals who know how to put themselves in the shoes of another. And now I was thinking these characters, in reality, how well do they succeed [at that]? This was what completed the story for me. I made the decision that they would be rehearsing a play, and the story came together for me.
Alex Saveliev: The film is about dealing with guilt, which ultimately leads to revenge. What are your thoughts on vengeance, a major theme in “The Salesman”?
Asghar Farhadi: We need to look at what “revenge” means. When someone does us harm, and we pronounce judgment, and sentence, and execute that sentence against that person – this is what we call “revenge.” It’s a very risky process because it is liable to go wrong at many turns. This is why revenge is something we consider a negative value.
Alex Saveliev: Rana does warn Emad that he has [embraced] revenge. It is very specific.
Asghar Farhadi: Two things I can say. Women, on the whole, tend to be more forgiving than men. In my previous film, “The Past,” I also make a point to this. Because women are capable of childbearing, their gaze is pointed toward the future more. And men – perhaps because they worked the land for so many eons – are more rooted to where they are, so they are looking behind more. But here, the woman is also speaking to another point. She’s saying, “I am the one who has undergone harm.” She wants to have a part in the judgment against the old man. The other point that’s significant is that a man has intruded on their private space and attacked their honor. She’s upset by the fact that her husband now wishes to act in the same way. She doesn’t want to force her husband to forgive the old man. She says, “The way you’re [doing it], the method you’re applying points to revenge, and this is action that is not moral.”
Alex Saveliev: At which point does Rana achieve closure in the film, or will she ever achieve it?
Asghar Farhadi: This is something that will remain with her like a wound for her entire life. But she, at the same time, seems to have the capacity to understand the situation of that old man.
Alex Saveliev: What was the first job that you ever had? If it wasn’t film-related, what was the moment you knew you wanted to get into filmmaking?
Asghar Farhadi: [Laughs] I had no time to have another job! I was 13 when I made my first film and then made a short film each year. Then I quickly moved on to a university where I studied theater. Now I regret it. I entered cinema too early. I started to ponder the serious questions too soon. I feel like my childhood was diminished. I wish I could go back and start these things a little later. I am now coming to discover that cinema is not the most important thing in the world. Childhood and living are much more important things.
Alex Saveliev: From “A Separation” to this film, the theme of communication is very [prevalent]. Can you speak about that?
Asghar Farhadi: It’s very important to me. In today’s world, where the networks of communication have expanded so much, it seems to me we have so many more tools and devices for communicating. But then why are we so alone? And those who are not alone, pretend to be. We have become very alone. The more progress we make, the more we expand the abilities of language, the less we’re communicating. Relative to the past, humans have become more complicated. Like an object that has hundreds of facets. For [Emad and Rana] to meet, where they can join – there’s a very limited surface, whereas in the past, there were not hundreds of facets to the object, there were just a few. So the possibilities for common sighting and for communicating were greater. I’m not trying to say that the modern world is a “bad” world. It’s a much more comfortable world. But misunderstandings are far more frequent in it than in the old world. People believe they know one another. For instance, a man and wife, who have been in love and lived together for some time – and then [comes] the moment of crisis, where they don’t know each other at all, they’re just strangers. This is why people get separated all the time. Because they receive a new image of the other.
Alex Saveliev: Is there a special significance to using “Death of a Salesman” as the play they are [performing]? Is it common for American plays to be done in Iran?
Asghar Farhadi: “Death of a Salesman” is no longer an American play. It belongs to the whole world. It’s a very well-loved and famous play in my country. It’s staged frequently, maybe once every couple of years. I like that play a great deal for a number of reasons. In the play, Arthur Miller emphasizes with all of his main characters. It’s not easy to say whether it’s Willy Loman or his son that is responsible for the crisis. At the same time, he’s describing a social situation, in America, at that moment, an American Dream, on the way to which people are sacrificing themselves. A significant theme in that play is humiliation. Willy Loman commits suicide because his son, coworkers, neighbors humiliate him. The tragedy of that play is that that individual feels completely useless in his family, he’s a nobody. Do you know why Willy Loman’s job [entails] going to different cities? When he goes away, no one feels he’s gone in that house. He thinks, “even if I’m gone, I’m dead, this family is okay, it’s going to carry on the same.” Truly, when I think it, I want to cry. It’s the most difficult situation for a father to be in. We have an Iranian version of Willy Loman and Linda in our film – the old man and woman who come in at the end. That father, the old man, is like Willy Loman. Maybe it’s what he’s lacking that prompted him to go establish that relationship with the prostitute, this sense of loneliness, not wanting to accept that he’s old.
Alex Saveliev: In “The Salesman,” the series of events is spawned by the demolishing of a building, with people still in it, which sends its protagonists on a downwards spiral. Was that a way for you to comment on how a political climate can seep into, intimately infiltrate, and ultimately demolish private lives?
Asghar Farhadi: It’s hardly related to anything political. In the first instance, it’s related to the movement of the story. The progress of the story moves the characters out of that building, but it’s also a prolog, a sort of foreshadowing of the way in which the relationships between people are undermined at their foundation. As the film advances, the greater the fissures and cracks become in the relationship [of its protagonists] that have not been apparent before. Just like the cracks in the building.
In theaters Friday, January 27th
