Film: Frontier Blues
Release date: 8th November 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Babak Jalali
Starring: Abolfazl Karimi, Mahmoud Kalteh, Khajeh Araz Dordi, Behzad Shahrivari, Karima Adebibe
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Iran/UK/Italy
Set in a northern province of Iran, with its racial mix of Turkmen, Persians, Kazakhs, Russians and Armenians, Frontier Blues depicts the lives of people in limbo, belonging to neither one country nor another, who seem to exist in a permanent state of transition.
The film switches between four different characters, all living an unsatisfactory kind of existence. Hassam is the young man abandoned by his parents, brought up by an uncle who is bewildered by his bizarre habits of collecting number plates and having a donkey as his constant companion. Uncle Kazem’s shop has a random assortment of clothes, which never seem to fit any of his customers. Alam lives with his widowed father, works in a chicken factory and dreams of marrying a woman he has never spoken to - and taking her to a new life in the capital. A man referred to only as Mr Minstrel poses with his lute for a photographer from Tehran in a series of shots which attempt to recreate a vision of a simple nomadic lifestyle that is long gone.
There’s a sense with each of these characters of aspirations unfulfilled. Hassam makes prank calls to strangers and boasts of owning many eucalyptus farms. Alam teaches himself English from a tape in preparation for his dream life in the big city, but the parents of the woman he wishes to marry reject his proposal. Mr Minstrel initially plays along with the intentions of the Tehranian photographer, who is constantly directing the musician and the children who follow him so that he can make the most artistically composed shots. When asked by the photographer to relate a story in his own Turkmen language, the story the musician tells is not a folk tale, but the story of how his wife was abducted years ago, and how he has been searching for her ever since. The substance of his life is not consistent with the picturesque National Geographic style tableau that the photographer is trying to create…
The frozen nature of the characters’ lives is reflected in the pace of the film. Hardly anything happens here. The soundtrack uses a scratching noise, like the sound of a needle stuck on vinyl, giving a feeling of restlessness and futility. There’s a focus on mundane and repetitive actions - Alam feeding the chickens in the factory or Hassan trying to fix a number plate on a car. Journeys aren’t significant for their destinations, but to show these people in a state of constant transition against the blank backdrop of the steppes. There’s a particularly beautiful shot of Hassan walking with his donkey underneath a cobwebby sky, among the waters and reeds of the Caspian Sea, but any sense of tragic grandeur in the setting is undermined by awareness that Hassan’s character is eccentric, if not disturbed.
The film’s melancholy is tempered by a droll visual humour. Hassan and his uncle stand outside his house, watching men walking past with their donkeys, from right to left and left to right, like a tennis match - rush hour on the steppes. Uncle Kazem goes to his usual cafe for lunch and sits one of the shop mannequins between him and his lunch companion, who unexpectedly leers with excitement at Kazem. Life here is ridiculous but sad, its beauty cut through with banality and frustration – “the land of heartbreaks and tractors,” in the words of the musician.
Iranian-born director and writer Babak Jalali used non-professional actors from the region of Golestan in northern Iran, where the film was shot. The actors’ performances are naturalistic and understated, although the portrayal of the characters tends to skate along the surface, building a picture through an accumulation of repeated actions rather than through any exposition of their inner lives. Khajeh Araz Dordi takes on the most challenging role as Mr Minstrel, shifting from a strong and dignified silence – one of the characters compares him to Charles Bronson – to ranting bitterly about the loss of his wife and the crassness of the photographer’s sentimentalised view of provincial life. His character gives a fiercer edge to the film, which suggests that Jalali may have more to give than the quiet and melancholy quirkiness which forms the core of Frontier Blues.
The film’s pace is glacial, but its gentle and humorous observations, as well as the striking landscape of its setting, are enough to sustain interest for its modest hour-and-a-half duration. If you’ve ever uttered the words “but nothing ever happened” when leaving the cinema, it’s probably one to avoid. For all that, it shows some skilful and delicate filmmaking, and it’ll be interesting to see what Jalali does next. KR
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