Persepolis & Before The Devil Knows You're Dead

Persepolis is a film from the book of the same name by Marjane Satrapi, and tells the story of her childhood, growing up at first in the confusing and often frightening Tehran of the revolution, then in Vienna, after being sent there, and follows her through her return to Iran and her giving up of her country for good and heading back to Europe, this time to Paris.

The animation is superb, the style of the book more than ably transferred to the screen. In fact, the liveliness of the drawings perhaps work better on the big screen, especially when the alternative is victim to bad printing, rendering everything far greyer than the deep blacks and whites of the film, as I saw in a copy of the book I picked up in Borders the other day.

Beyond the humour and vivacity of little Marjane and the wonderful animation, this film presents an Iran in 1979 and beyond in a simple way that seemed to be aimed as an introduction to the recent history of Iran. This effect is heightened, I suppose, by the current political climate.

We saw this film in the Parkway Speakeasy Theater in Oakland, California, a cinema with sofas instead of seats, beer instead of (or rather in addition to) coke and waiter service to your sofa with your pizza!

Before The Devil Knows You're Dead

Sidney Lumet is one of those cinematic directorial heavyweights that makes you (and actors looking for parts quite possibly) sit up and take notice. This film, coming from the man who directed 12 Angry Men and Dog Day Afternoon, has been talked about as a masterpiece to sit alongside those films. I'd have to watch it again to say anything about that. Watch it again and watch it on a screen bigger than the minute screen on the plane back from San Francisco.

Having said that, you were certainly aware that you were in the presence of a master. The convoluted story structure does not buckle from its own complexity as so often happens, and each scene is played note perfect, by the script and the direction (there is nothing so much as a superfluous sigh, flick of the hair, raise of the eyebrows) and by the central performances of Ethan Hawke and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. That they look nothing alike and nothing in the world would make you mistake them for the brothers they are supposed to be is of little consequence. Other reviewers have noted how this incongruous physical relationship between the two is simply forgotten in the portrayals of a family falling apart.

And it is brutal - there doesn't seem to be much redemption for anyone, which is refreshing. The subject matter dealt with (sons responsible for the death of their mother during a robbery-gone-wrong) does not offer easy redemption. Or difficult redemption. One would assume the natural fallout to this series of events being exactly what is shown in this film - the disintigration of a family, the revealing of long-hidden secrets and the mental breakout and anguish of more than one family member.