Opening with a pre-credit passage in which separating eponymous leads Nader (Peyman Moaadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) address an off-camera magistrate in a tight, frontal two-shot, writer-director Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation (Jodaeiye Nader az Simin,  2011) proceeds to cultivate the first long-take’s implied logic of  domestic surveillance, with the film’s consistently transparent home  architecture taking the lead hereafter. Farhadi’s focal domestic  interior - in which Nader and sixth-grade daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi) live with the former’s Alzheimer’s debilitated father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi)  - is divided by a series of French doors, interior apertures and even a  translucent glass front entrance that all bring the film’s domestic  melodrama into public view. Consistently compressing the visual field in  telephoto, Farhadi and cinematographer Mahmoud Kalari’s camera  shoots through these visually permeable barriers, as well as through the  home’s exterior windows, in a creating a sense that nothing in this  household (as in the Iranian nation itself) is beyond the purview of its  invisible monitors. With new nurse Razieh (Sareh Bayat) brought  in following Simin’s departure, the film’s virtual surveillance is  extended to both the culture’s religious authorities, with the former  consulting church-leaders to determine the spiritual legality of a  series of actions, and also to the Islamic faith’s patriarchy, which in  this case is adjudicated by Razieh’s bad-tempered, out-of-work husband,  Hodjat (Shahab Hosseini), from whom the pregnant co-lead initially is forced to hide her place of work. A Separation will turn on those things, within its governing  system of abundant visibility, that may or may not have escaped witness,  whether it is the ambiguous, just-out-of-view accident that transforms  the film from household drama to criminal mystery or the piece of  related information that will dictate the magnitude of the legal  charges. With Farhadi’s film accordingly shifting into crime-thriller  mode, the picture’s leads and supporting roster - the full slate of  performers are superlative in their respective roles - are forced into  investigative positions, as they attempt not only to make sense of their  incomplete perspective on the events, but also on what will prove  uniformly unreliable testimony. Consequently, the film’s players, along  with its spectators, who in the latter case participate in the same  acts, calling not only on their intuition, but also on their murky  recollections of seemingly off-handed moments in the narrative, are made  complicit in the operation of A Separation’s inscribed  surveillance society. They become actors in the film’s economy of  monitoring and reporting, which will result finally in a denouement that  escapes every witness expect the religiously conditioned moral guilt  that impacts one character disproportionately. Farhadi’s robust  depiction of modern-day theocratic Iranian society, as comprehensive as  any that this particular writer knows, is reproduced accordingly in the  very structure of A Separation’s narrative, just as the film’s  mediated visual strategies allegorize the same theme imagistically. In  transforming both in the image of the film’s distinctly big subject,  therefore, Farhadi’s film qualifies as a genuine masterpiece of the  contemporary Iranian cinema.
Found here at the excellent Tativille

Opening with a pre-credit passage in which separating eponymous leads Nader (Peyman Moaadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) address an off-camera magistrate in a tight, frontal two-shot, writer-director Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation (Jodaeiye Nader az Simin, 2011) proceeds to cultivate the first long-take’s implied logic of domestic surveillance, with the film’s consistently transparent home architecture taking the lead hereafter. Farhadi’s focal domestic interior - in which Nader and sixth-grade daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi) live with the former’s Alzheimer’s debilitated father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi) - is divided by a series of French doors, interior apertures and even a translucent glass front entrance that all bring the film’s domestic melodrama into public view. Consistently compressing the visual field in telephoto, Farhadi and cinematographer Mahmoud Kalari’s camera shoots through these visually permeable barriers, as well as through the home’s exterior windows, in a creating a sense that nothing in this household (as in the Iranian nation itself) is beyond the purview of its invisible monitors. With new nurse Razieh (Sareh Bayat) brought in following Simin’s departure, the film’s virtual surveillance is extended to both the culture’s religious authorities, with the former consulting church-leaders to determine the spiritual legality of a series of actions, and also to the Islamic faith’s patriarchy, which in this case is adjudicated by Razieh’s bad-tempered, out-of-work husband, Hodjat (Shahab Hosseini), from whom the pregnant co-lead initially is forced to hide her place of work.

A Separation will turn on those things, within its governing system of abundant visibility, that may or may not have escaped witness, whether it is the ambiguous, just-out-of-view accident that transforms the film from household drama to criminal mystery or the piece of related information that will dictate the magnitude of the legal charges. With Farhadi’s film accordingly shifting into crime-thriller mode, the picture’s leads and supporting roster - the full slate of performers are superlative in their respective roles - are forced into investigative positions, as they attempt not only to make sense of their incomplete perspective on the events, but also on what will prove uniformly unreliable testimony. Consequently, the film’s players, along with its spectators, who in the latter case participate in the same acts, calling not only on their intuition, but also on their murky recollections of seemingly off-handed moments in the narrative, are made complicit in the operation of A Separation’s inscribed surveillance society. They become actors in the film’s economy of monitoring and reporting, which will result finally in a denouement that escapes every witness expect the religiously conditioned moral guilt that impacts one character disproportionately. Farhadi’s robust depiction of modern-day theocratic Iranian society, as comprehensive as any that this particular writer knows, is reproduced accordingly in the very structure of A Separation’s narrative, just as the film’s mediated visual strategies allegorize the same theme imagistically. In transforming both in the image of the film’s distinctly big subject, therefore, Farhadi’s film qualifies as a genuine masterpiece of the contemporary Iranian cinema.

Found here at the excellent Tativille

Notes

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