MIFF NOTES: The Salesman (2016, Dir. Asghar Farhadi)

Asghar Farhadi's status as the world's preeminent purveyor of claustrophobic domestic drama is well and truly confirmed with The Salesman. It marks his return to the intensified cultural pressure cooker of his native Iran, after a brief sojourn in France, and as selfish as it is to say the work benefits.

While it is easy to say Farhadi's critically-confirmed narrative craftsmanship is vastly improved by the expanded toolkit his oppressive political circumstances make available to him - even that his skill and his culture are intrinsically linked - it is a line of argument blinkered by some heavy-duty cultural relativism.

I know, it is a line I have followed often.

This perceived improvement warrants unpacking. Indeed, in selecting 'Death of a Salesman' (with its own societal oppressions, albeit existential ones) as the thematic foundation for his film, Farhadi veritably goads us to do so.

The Salesman finds an acting couple, the leads in a local production of Arthur Miller's play, hitting relationship stresses when the wife, Rana (Taraneh Alidoosti), is assaulted in the temporary apartment they have moved into after their own becomes structurally unsound. The husband, Emad (Shahab Hosseini), struggles with guilt (at not being home), shame (at his wife's "disgrace"), blame (eyeing off his colleague, who was less-than-forthcoming on his apartment's former resident), and a gripping desire for revenge (the hunt for the assailant becomes Emad's obsession).

So, not only does Farhadi infuse his film with an ever-pressing reminder of Western society's own underlying social oppressions (the constricting grip of the American Dream - a "dream" that consumes most Western cultures in one form or another) but he ports across narrative concerns that are very much in the limelight across the Western world: women as property, women as protectees, women as sexualised objects, women as disenfranchised from self-determination - what is generally nowadays brushed under the blanket of rape culture.

The "enlightened" West has in recent decades self-congratulatorily left these themes in the done-and-dusted bucket. They are no longer an issue in the minds of most (male) filmmakers and many (male) cultural commentators. They are issues for "backwards" cultures, like Farhadi's Tehran, where women are forced to wear headscarves and constantly defer to their husbands. But Farhadi's presentation of Islamic culture has always foregrounded the progressive (and the socially aspiring) - and on this frontline he plays with clear sight lines. The ideas being grappled with should be more than recognisable the world over.

In fact, there is little in The Salesman that cannot be translated into a Western context with relative ease. Therein lies its effectiveness. Farhadi presents the self-imposed tragedy of Emad and Rana's situation in such a way that the "otherness" so eagerly latched onto in discussions of Iranian culture is neutered. There is little to distinguish the world of The Salesman from the world of, say, All About My Mother or Opening Night (except maybe a brief mention of censorship), so our eyes are opened to truths that we can't dismiss on cultural grounds. With Farhadi's ability to grind this drama out of the foundations of domesticity (the whole film hinges on an act that anyone who has lived in an apartment block will be guilty of), the space between "them" and "us" is dramatically reduced, and to powerful effect.

Emad's actions, then, can only be taken on face value. There is no easy out for any audience, which is Farhadi's signature conceit. Emad's self-centred concern for Rana and his barely disguised disregard for her emotional health is callous but relatable. His "good man" approach works by inches, it makes uncomfortable sense, but it isn't too long before he's waded in too far and he can no longer see the shore, or Rana. Emad is lost, like Willy Loman is lost, in his own head, though in a self-fulfilling horror not a suicide-inducing reverie. That is not to say that the outcome teeters on any less of a knifepoint. The Salesman's last act brings Farhadi's competing motivations into lockstep with impressive impact. As with About Elly..., Farhadi's airy set-up gives way to a hyper tense finale. And while the transition may not be as smooth as in his previous films, the climax is every bit as tight.

Like the best of Farhadi's work, The Salesman raises questions that have no ready answers. And the answers that are to hand generally only suit the person making them. Which is to say the relativism here is more personal than cultural. So, we can all be dragged down together.

★★★★

Trailer:

This post contributes to Director Focus: Asghar Farhadi.

The Salesman screened as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival 2016.

You can check out other films from the festival here.