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Artists create not because they’ve been given permission to do so, but simply because they must. This certainty illuminates filmmaking duo Hossein Keshavarz and Maryam Ataei’s Tehran-set drama “The Friend’s House Is Here,” a sophisticated and heroic celebration both of Iran’s brave communities of underground artists who boldly express themselves despite their autocratic government’s attempts to muzzle them, and of the country’s resilient women who recently led the pivotal “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement.
Shot entirely (and perilously) in secret, much like the recent, genre-defying work of Jafar Panahi (including the Oscar-nominated “It Was Just An Accident”), and completed in the aftermath of the June War, “The Friend’s House Is Here” was reportedly smuggled out of the country once the ongoing protests, with thousands of confirmed deaths, erupted. In that regard, Keshavarz and Ataei’s spirited effort feels like a modern-day heir to virtuosos like Panahi, as well as Abbas Kiarostami, whose 1987 masterpiece “Where is the Friend’s House?” is proudly honored by this film’s title. Like the essence of the masters it channels, “The Friend’s House Is Here” is defined not by the many constraints that it battled during its production, but by the artistic vision of the resulting work.
More importantly, the film is energized by a gentle and joyous quality throughout, with Keshavarz and Ataei refusing to succumb to a doom-and-gloom disposition in following their protagonists: Pari (Mahshad Bahraminejad) and Hanna (Hana Mana), two rebellious artists and best friends in contemporary Tehran. Like Bahraminejad, Pari is an underground theater artist of inventive performance pieces that challenge the status quo. It’s not exactly legal to perform works of art without governmental permission, but like the resourceful artists who stood against tyranny throughout history, Pari does so anyway, and always with an engaged audience.
Meanwhile Hanna, like Mana, is an improvisational dancer with a popular Instagram account where she courageously posts her dance routines (again, deemed illegal by the government) in front of recognizable historical landmarks. Like many women in Iran these days (as we see in the background across Tehran), Pari and Hanna stroll the streets unveiled, and present themselves with idiosyncratic fashion choices, including hats and T-shirts adorned with Rumi’s poetry. Through a patient, observational aesthetic, the directors immerse us in the pair’s friendship, organically capturing the enviable ease and trust between these two women.
On that note, “The Friend’s House Is Here” is also a film about life-defining friendships, along with the healing properties of sisterhood. Not only do Hanna and Pari depend on each other as friends, roommates, and allies, but they are also sustained by a supportive ecosystem of fellow artists and theater troop members, the closest being Hanna’s best friend Ali (Farzad Karen).
With cinematographer Ali Ehsani’s meticulously choreographed but unfussy long takes and Arian Saleh’s understated score, we breathe in the kind of jubilant, unflappable atmosphere that perhaps only chosen families can conjure. This blissful mood is felt everywhere, from the ensemble’s good-humored bickering over the city’s rooftops, singing and dancing sessions at home, and dinner parties where hearty servings of tahdig are cheered on.
The movie never loses this upbeat air, though it turns quieter when we find ourselves in one of Pari’s performance art sessions. (For a while, thanks to clever camerawork, we can’t even tell that we’re inside a theatrical construction.) The short play is evidently about Hanna, whose relaxed attitude has at times clashed with Pari’s relative strictness. She is wondering about the whereabouts of her friend, who, in reality, is preparing for a life-changing trip abroad to advance her art. Has she been kidnapped by the government after posting one of her viral dance videos? Has anyone seen her?
The feelings we sit with in the immediate aftermath of Pari’s performance are so powerful that we don’t suspect the intentions of the man who approaches her with compliments. But his praise quickly takes an aggressive turn, before we start to grasp his true identity. Soon after, the realization sinks in that the play has just ingeniously foreshadowed some imminent dark developments in the women’s lives.
It wouldn’t be fair to spoil further details of this narrative shift, but rest assured that Keshavarz and Ataei maintain their positive tone — they’re determined not to compromise on their defiant ambitions. But that hardly makes “The Friend’s House Is Here” a toothless fantasy. At every turn and with every dignified conversation between concerned people who are just trying to exist in peace — one between Pari’s mother and the selfless Hanna is especially heart-swelling — the directors acknowledge the stakes involved, and the high price that artists pay to claim their freedom and humanity against the odds. Their film feels like a compassionate gift, given in gratitude to all artists who refuse to be silenced.
English (US) ·