Mohammad Reza Aslani's Chess of the Wind is a singular and long suppressed Iranian masterpiece that was originally, if briefly, released in 1976. The film's perverse tone and the large number of women in key production roles during its making led to its being banned after the Iranian revolution of 1979. The film was long thought lost until Aslani's son found a copy of it in a Tehran antique shop in 2014. The restored film was released in 2020 to universal acclaim.
The picture is set almost entirely within the walls of a sprawling Tehran estate. Inside we meet a dysfunctional clan at odds with each other within a hot house atmosphere. The matriarch of the clan has died leaving her wheelchair bound daughter, Aghdas (Fakhri Khorvash), bitter because she is totally under the control of her boorish stepfather, Hadjii Amoo (Mohamad Ali Keshavarz). Two brothers, Ramezan (Akbar Zanjanpour) and Shaban (Shahram Golchin), are daily visitors to the mansion. Both are attempting to court different ladies in the house, Ramezan is trying to win Aghdas while Shaban is interested in Aghdas' maid, Kanizak (Shohreh Aghdashloo). However, Aghdas recoils at Ramezan's touch and seems more romantically inclined towards Kanizak. The atmosphere in the manse grow more oppressive until they culminate in what we think is Hadji's murder. This act does not eliminate the tensions, but exacerbates them until the characters all resemble coiled snakes ready to strike. The players are up to the challenge, even the ones doing bits.
The only respites from the interior tensions are exterior shots of chorus like washer women doing laundry in the estate's fountain, all the time commenting sardonically on the main characters inside. This is linked to one of Aslani's main themes: the tensions between traditional and Western influences in Iran. When a doctor attends to Aghdas, he waves away the incense brought by a servant as if it were an affront to his rationalism. Aghdas is the most Western of the main characters, both in her garb and her yearning for liberation. She is first seen smashing traditional Iranian glassware with a ball and chain, eager to strike out against the traditionalist strictures that bind her. Hadji Amoo is the most traditional, quite happily ensconced in his patriarchal role. It is not accidental that when the kibosh is put to Hadji, he is engaged in his salat prayers towards Mecca. The mansion itself is a mix of Western and Eastern decor. The film's soundtrack is also bifurcated between traditional Persian music and an excellent Western style atonal score composed by Sheida Gharachedaghi that is effectively unsettling.
The almost Gothic atmosphere of Chess of the Wind with its grotesque psychological portraits would be hard to take if not for Aslani's directorial restraint and pictorial gifts. Trained as a painter, Aslani's camera largely stands removed from his characters, framing them within a larger cultural context. The film always remains strikingly beautiful, particularly with its use of natural light, even when the characters' motivations are base and ugly. The discordant nature of the film reminded me of Bunuel, James M. Cain, Dostoyevsky, and Tennessee Williams, but Aslani's work stands on its own in giving us a sense of a culture on the verge of collapse. Chess of the Wind seems to be set in the 1920s, though no particular time frame is established. This works to the film's advantage, as we are as unmoored as the characters themselves. Aslani's career never quite recovered from the Iranian revolution and he retreated into documentary work, but Chess of the World guarantees him a spot in 20th century film history.
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