Majid Majidi Q/A DNA Editorial Page

DNA Editorial Page Q/A: Majid Majidi

'I try to show Islam in its pure form, says Iranian director Majidi

Meenakshi Shedde

Saturday, October 21, 2006 23:02 IST

Noted Iranian film director Majid Majidi has a huge following among cinephiles worldwide. His fans love his poignant yet heartwarming films that simultaneously evoke smiles and tears. His films emphasise humanistic values, rather than political concerns. Films like Colour of Paradise and Baran have won many prizes, while his Children of Heaven was nominated for an Oscar. In Mumbai last week, Majidi got a rock star’s reception. He was felicitated with the Asian Film Culture Award at the Third Eye Asian Film Festival, where his latest work, The Weeping Willow, was screened. In an interview to Meenakshi Shedde, given in Persian, Majidi talks about making films in Iran.
Your latest film The Weeping Willow is about a blind professor who regains his sight, and questions whether this was necessarily a good thing. What inspired the story?
I wanted it to be a philosophical, mystical film. The professor is blind, but he feels sounds, his surroundings, he reaches the real depths of sensitivity. When he regains his sight, he fails to recognise many things he knew before.
It is interesting how you deliberately connect his regaining of vision with his loss of hearing.
Exactly. His whole world is transformed. As he regains his vision, it cuts off his hearing. He no longer hears his inner voice. He sees only with his eyes.
The Persian title of Weeping Willow is Beed-e Majnoon. Is the tree’s name connected to the story of Laila-Majnoon?
Yes, you could say there are literary allusions to Laila-Majnoon. But I use the name to evoke the tree’s fragility and delicacy, as it sways with the slightest breeze.
You acted in director Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s Boycott, but he initially supported the Islamic Revolution, then distanced himself from it. How has your own relationship with religion and the state evolved over the years?
Mohsen Makhmalbaf was a politician who opposed the Shah’s regime. After the Revolution he continued his political work, but was gradually drawn to cinema and went back on his religiousness. I was brought up in a deeply religious family. As for the Islamic Revolution, I was more attracted to its cultural, academic aspects. So my relationship with religion is not influenced by the state, and has been steady throughout.
Islam as a religion has been widely and unfairly discredited post-9/11. Your documentary Barefoot in Herat looks at the despairing lives of Afghan refugees before and after the Taliban. Is cinema for you an instrument to depict the true nature of Islam?
Yes. In my films I try to show religion in its pure form — what comes from within — as against its outer deceptions as practised by the Taliban. In Herat, I saw how people were suffering under the Taliban, and it made me truly horrified of being Muslim. I could tolerate it only because I am Muslim, otherwise I would have criticised it severely.
Many of your films — like Children of Heaven, Colour of Paradise, Pedar — focus on children. Is this because of state censorship of adult themes, as well as because the state has funded some of your films, through the Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults?
I must say I have had an infatuation with children ever since I was involved with children’s theatre at the age of 12. When we asked questions as children, we were usually reprimanded by the elders. When I grew up, I decided I would raise those questions in my films. It is fashionable to ask questions about censorship, but censorship does not drive my cinema.
Colour of Paradise was about the reconciliation between a blind boy and his father. What response did it have from blind people in the audience?
When some blind people in the audience said they “saw” my film and described it in detail, I knew they had got the picture very clearly — that was nice. But also, after the film, the authorities encouraged blind people to go to school.
I think you had shared writing credits for Colour of Paradise with Mohsen Ramezani, your little blind protagonist. Also, Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami made Close-Up, a tribute to fellow director Mohsen Makhmalbaf. Do you find that filmmaking has a deeply civilising influence on filmmakers?
Well, becoming a better person is not the object of filmmaking. But human values count a lot for me, and if I can improve myself or society through my cinema, that’s a wonderful thing.
With the Islamic Revolution, the regime banned many of the creative arts, but encouraged cinema for propaganda. So many musicians, lyricists and artists came to Iranian cinema, giving it great richness. Is this true?
It was true in the first decade following the revolution, but not any more. We even have rock groups performing in Iran, but not in our cinema.
Are you planning a film in India?
Yes, I’m hoping to make a film here. I was struck by the similarities between the culture of Iran and Kashmir.
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