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Iranian Studies, volume 42, number 4, September 2009
Negar Mottahedeh
This essay addresses itself to the century long history of cinema in Iran, focusing on the history
of the senses as they combine with and are extended by film technologies. It argues that
Khomeini’s aim was to produce a transformed and Shi’ite Iran by purifying the sensorial
national body by means of film technologies.
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This still image (Figure 1), which captures Muzaffar al-Din Shah’s look at the
primitive motion picture camera, embeds in celluloid an index of the history of
the cinematic medium in Iran. As index, it calls forth the gaze of future gener-
ations. Muzaffar al-Din Shah’s look at the camera carries, as if auratically, the his-
torical conditions informing the coming into being of film as a cultural and
political practice in Iran.
The purchase of a motion picture camera by Muzaffar al-Din Shah during his
journey to Europe in 1900 continued the tradition of the dynastic travelogues,
diaries one could say, that captured the near, the present, and the everyday in
distant, far away places. But in doing so, the film reels from this journey also
mimetically reproduced the European tradition of voyages photographique (photo-
graphic voyages) that made their appearance in the Salon de Photographie in 1859.
Muzaffar al Din Shah’s travelogue entry on his newly purchased camera is
written against the backdrop a festival of flowers in Ostend, Belgium. It
arrests moments of visual exchange between parading European women and
himself. The scene, captured by his cameraman, Mirza Ebrahim Khan Akkasbasi
Sani-al Saltanah, combines a mixture of decorum and titillating circumstance, a
pleasing sensuality that is palpable in this second still from one of Muzaffar al
Din Shah’s early film reels in which his Persian travel companions gaze at the
European women whom they encounter on the streets of Europe in broad
brimmed hats typical of turn-of-the-century fashions (Figure 2).
The significance of this returned look, exchanged between the Persian men and
the European women, may be lost on our generation, but early theorists of
modernity made note of a shift in perception and sometimes remarked on
Negar Mottahedeh is Associate Professor of Literature and Women’s Studies at the Program of
Literature, Duke University. This is a revised version of the paper presented to the conference
“Iran and Iranian Studies in the Twentieth Century” to mark the fortieth anniversary of Iranian
Studies held at the University of Toronto, October 2007.
ISSN 0021-0862 print/ISSN 1475-4819 online/09/040529 –20
#2009 The International Society for Iranian Studies
DOI 10.1080/00210860903106279
530 Mottahedeh
“the protective functions” that began to envelope the look in response to the
“experience of shock” in metropolitan modern life.1
The shield of the look, a conspicuous armor against the close encounter
that the moderns began to experience in the crammed quarters of urban citys-
capes—in trains and on sidewalks—, seems, at least in this moment, shed in
gestures of play and conviviality in Belgium following the camera’s purchase
1
Miriam Hansen, “Benjamin’s Aura”, Critical Inquiry, 34, no. 2 (winter 2008): 344.
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 531
by Muzaffar al Din Shah. The Shah writes in his diary of this exchange of looks at
festival of flowers at Ostend:
It was a very interesting festival . . . The ladies were riding the coaches with
bouquets of flowers in their hands and they passed in front of us. Akkas
Bashi was busy photographing with the cinematograph. There were more
than fifty coaches passing by, one after another, with the rhythm of music.
There was quite a crowd there. When the coaches reached us they threw bou-
quets of flowers to us continuously and we also threw back flowers to them.2
existence.”3 Like a stamp marking the birth of the film camera in the context
of Iranian history, the exchange provided for the camera’s “creative relocation,”
as Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi would have put it, “within a different textual and
political universe”—in this case within a Persian monarchic one.4 The camera
ensured in this moment, the continuity of the East –West exchange informing
Iranian turn-of-the-century travelers’ narratives and that self-reflexive mode of
thinking characteristic of Iranian modernity that figured in the figure of the
foreign envoy, the elci farangi, in the ta’ziyeh’s discursive quest to situate the
self from the perspective of a valued outsider in the modern world.5
The camera became party to the vibrant forces that had shaped the nation’s
modern identity. Yet this haunting history of film technology’s preoccupation
with the mutual exchange of glances on the anticipatory eve of modernity, was
overwritten eight decades later by the veiling of all women and the socio-sexual
Islamization of the look for the contemporary Iranian screen.
Pure Aesthetics
In his Last Will and Testament published after his death in 1989, Ayatollah
Ruhollah Khomeini articulated this move to sanctify the screen in light of
what he called the nation’s “state of self-estrangement.”6 Crucially, he attributed
this state of estrangement to the national body’s alienation from its own sense
2
Muzaffar al-Din Shah Qajar, Safarnameh-ye Mobarakeh-ye Muzzafer-Din Shah Beh Farang. Tran-
scribed by Mirza Mehdi Khan Kashani. 2nd ed. (Tehran: Ketab-e Foruzan, [1982] 1361): 160.
3
Lisa Gitelman, Scripts, Grooves and Writing Machines: Representing Technology in the Edison Era.
(Stanford, 1999): 161 –162.
4
Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, Refashioning Iran: Orientalism, Occidentalism and Historiography.
(New York, 2001): 138.
5
In the ta’ziyeh, the elci farangi, corroborates the moral and ethical superiority of Iranian Shi’ism
over Sunni aggression. The foreigner’s certain conversion at the end of the ta’ziyeh concurrently
establishes the potency of Shi’ite Islam against Western political and industrial power.
6
Khomeini, Ruhollah, Imam Khomeini’s Last Will and Testament. (Washington, 1989): p. 47.
532 Mottahedeh
7
Ruhollah Khomeini, Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Imam Khomeini, trans.
Hamid Algar (Berkeley, 1981): 264.
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 533
It was in its attempt to purge technology from imperialist and capitalist forces,
that the post-Revolutionary Iranian film industry came to produce a cinema
that is, in my view, the apotheosis of 1970s European feminist gaze theory and
a surprising expression of the feminist avant-garde’s stance against the voyeurism
of Hollywood melodrama.11
8
Benjamin’s influential “The Work of Art in the age of Mechanical Reproducibility” is here
referred to as the Artwork essay. In the Artwork essay and in the essay on photography first
published in 1931, Benjamin compares the possibilities opened up by the camera visually to the
unearthing of unconscious impulses by psychoanalysis. Walter Benjamin, “A Small History of Pho-
tography,” One Way Street and Other Writings (London, 1979): 243.
9
In the second version of the Artwork essay (1936), Benjamin suggests that film could become
“the most important subject matter, at present, for the theory of perception which the Greeks called
aesthetics.” Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility
(Second Version),” Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 3, 1935 –1938, trans. Edmund
Jephcott. (Cambridge: 1936):, 120.
10
Miriam Hansen, “Room-for-Play: Benjamin’s Gamble with Cinema,” October, 109 (summer
2004): 6.
11
Laura Mulvey, Visual and Other Pleasures (Bloomington, 1989) is probably the best known of the
early feminist “gaze theorists”. Writing in 1973, Laura Mulvey argued that sexual difference constructs
the gaze of classical narrative cinema configuring both its temporal and its spatial geography, its objects
and its spectating subjects. “Playing on the tension between film as controlling the dimension of time
(editing, narrative) and film as controlling the dimension of space (changes in distance, editing), cine-
matic codes create a gaze, a world and an object, thereby producing an illusion cut to the measure of
desire” (1989, 25). Bringing Marxist and psychoanalytic theories in conversation with current structur-
alist and semiotic theories of culture and cinema, Mulvey noted that the look in dominant cinema is sex-
ualized and is as such both voyeuristic and fetishistic. Associated with masculine tendencies, scopophilic
modes of seeing are inscribed in the film fiction, effectively constructing the heterosexual male as classical
narrative film’s addressee, its voyeuristic spectator. Focusing on the nature of the female as spectacle, she
wrote: “Going far beyond highlighting a woman’s to-be-looked-at-ness, cinema builds the ways she is to
be looked at into the spectacle itself” (1989, 25).
Mulvey’s best know article, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, published in the influential
British film theory journal, Screen, in 1975 was admittedly a polemic, a problematic, and a provocation
that produced an infinite array of interdisciplinary discussions that continued into the 1980s and 1990s,
534 Mottahedeh
Confronting Voyeurism
Modesty laws enforced the veiling of all female characters on the Iranian screen.
The ubiquity of the veil in film narratives, and more crucially in diegetic private
spaces within the narrative, signals the encoding and inscription of the spectator
in the profilmic situation.13 To characterize a woman veiled within her own fic-
tional quarters, in other words, is not unlike a gesture of looking directly at the
camera. The veil’s ever-presence, reflexively points to, addresses in fact, the presence
everywhere of an unrelated male viewer in the film theatre. The veil meets his look,
and foregrounds in this way, the looked-at-ness of the film itself, eschewing the
voyeuristic conventions of realism inherited from American melodrama.
giving shape to what is now referred to as “gaze theory,” but also to theories concerned with feminist
film and avant-garde film practice, to questions of narrative continuity and suture, to the problem of
sound and codes of editing, to reception theory, to accounts of spectatorship and subject formation,
to phenomenological approaches to cinema that addressed the participation of the body and its other
senses in experiencing films, to gay and lesbian studies of film, to studies of the star system, to porn
studies, to questions of masochism and the screen, of masquerade, femininity and masculinity in encoun-
ters with visual representations. A whole discipline emerged as a result of Mulvey’s intervention.
Mulvey’s early critical work established that voyeurism is inscribed in classical modes of spectator-
ship. It simultaneously established an oeuvre that invited a new kind of spectatorship to take shape, one
curious and driven by a “desire to decipher the puzzles and riddles” on screen. Laura Mulvey co-wrote
and co-directed with Peter Wollen six films between 1974 and 1983. “The most influential of Mulvey and
Wollen’s collaborative films, Riddles of the Sphinx made in 1977, presented avant-garde film as a space in
which female experience could be expressed.” The film was a “remarkable formalistic innovation [a
negative aesthetics], notably structured around 360-degree pans that spoke to the film’s content, and
described a mother’s search for identity.” Screenonline, http://www.screenonline.org.uk/people/id/
566978/index.html. Accessed July 6, 2008.
12
For melodrama is fundamentally “the norm, rather than the exception of American cinema,” as
Linda Williams incisively puts it: “popular American cinema is still, mutatis mutandis, melodrama”.
Linda Williams, Playing the Race Card: Melodramas of Black and White from Uncle Tom to O. J. Simpson,
Princeton, 2001): 26, 16. Ruhollah Khomeini, Islam and Revolution: 264.
13
Hamid Naficy, “Poetics and Politics of Veil, Voice and Vision in Iranian Post-revolutionary
Cinema,” Veil: Veiling, Representation and Contemporary Art, (Cambridge, MA, 2003): 145.
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 535
point at which moral and religious certainties are at once erased and melodrama
springs into existence.”14 Post-Revolutionary Iranian cinema’s resolve in fore-
grounding the film’s looked-at-ness against the absorption of the spectator’s
look in dominant cinema, reflects the former’s continued insistence on the
sacred, and gives emphasis to its antagonistic stance against the melodramatic
and scopophilic coordinates constitutive of the commodified image.15
His daughter and son-in-law, both students of a film school, manage to film him
in various locations in the city. When the Haji finally sees the film, he is delighted
by his own image. He applauds himself and the cinema.
Haji Aqa, The Movie Actor was premiered at the Royal cinema on 31 January
1933. A news daily had this review of the film on the following day:
Haji Aqa, the Movie Film Actor at Royal cinema. An Iranian film made by
Iranian artists was shown last night at the Royal cinema in the presence of
dignitaries. The film had many technical flaws. It was dark and the faces
were almost unrecognizable. But, as was pointed out by Mr. Saiid Nafisi in
his opening speech, outdated equipment and the lack of negatives had
forced the decision to shoot on positive stock. The efforts of the cast, the
crew and Mr. Ohanian, deserve the highest esteem and appreciation.22
22
Ettela’at, 31 January 1933.
538 Mottahedeh
Unlike Abi and Rabi, Haji Aqa, The Movie Actor failed to attract much atten-
tion. Sound film, a mighty rival to even the dominance of American films on
the international market, had just appeared on the scene. Exactly two months
and twelve days had passed since the first feature sound film, The Lor Girl
(Dokhtar-e Lor, Ardeshir Irani and Abdolhosain Sepanta, 1933), had premiered
in Tehran as a melodramatic love story that supported Iranian nationalism
under Reza Shah (Figure 5). The film created a buzz.
Golnar, the Lor girl, with her charming innocence and frightened voice was to
become the object of desire for a fictive monarch in a film about the history of
early cinema some sixty years later, in a film by Mohsen Makhmalbaf entitled
Once Upon a Time Cinema (Nasir al-Din Shah Aktor-e Cinema, 1992).
Although the Second World War brought Iranian film production to a halt,
encouraging the presence of American films on Iranian screens, the luti (or
tough guy) genre later updated and typified by Masu’d Kimia’i’s Qaisar (1969)
and Dash Akhol (1971–72) were mimetic of a new mode of organizing vision
and sensorial perception, which grappled, on a global scale, with the thingification
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 539
of modern life. Helpful, pure, and selfless in the 1950s the tough guys in luti films,
became verbally abusive, rough, alcoholic types in the 1970s. The more violent
the tough guy became, the more sexualized the women became, and especially
so in the obligatory song-and-dance numbers which they performed as spectacles
and objects of pleasure for the tough guys, and through the tough guys, for the
spectator.23
23
As Laura Mulvey suggests with regards to the show girls in Hollywood films, “The device of
the show-girl allows the two looks (that of the spectator and the male character on screen) to be
unified technically without any apparent break in the diegesis. A woman performs within the nar-
rative; the gaze of the spectator and that of the male characters in the film are neatly combined
without breaking narrative verisimilitude. For a moment the sexual impact of the performing
540 Mottahedeh
Significantly, the female stars of the luti films became circulating objects crucial
in promoting modern commodities in the market place. New Wave auteurs present
to the problematics of capitalism and imperialism inherent in these productions
insisted on recasting the binary oppositions that had developed within this genre
over the years, linking instead, the good guys with Iranian traditions and
customs, and the bad guys with secular attitudes and Western practices.24 When
the luti defended “a kin’s woman” in Kimiai’s Qaisar, for example, it was read
by some as the tough guy’s defense of Iranian authenticity, Hamid Naficy reflects.25
That the New Wave—the work of Kimiai; Dariush Mehrju’i (The Cow [Gav],
1969); Bahram Bayza’i (Downpour [Ragbar], 1970; The Crow [Kalagh], 1977);
Abbas Kiarostami (The Traveler [Mosafer], 1973); Sohrab Shahid Saless (Still Life
[Tabi’ate Bijan], 1975), Bahman Farmanara (Prince Ehtejab [Shazdeh Ehtejab],
1974)—would become representative of Iranian post-Revolution film production
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in the international film festival circuits of the late 1980s and 1990s, may in fact
owe to this “suspicion of Western influence” and the overwhelming sense of cul-
tural separateness already present in the productive discourse of its pre-Revolution-
ary films. This “suspicion of the West” translated into “Iran’s deliberate isolation”
in the years immediately following the Revolution. Godfrey Cheshire described
this phenomenon once quite deftly as, “a wariness which cuts across the political
spectrum: where hard-liners worry about the incursion of anti-religious values, lib-
erals worry about Iranian cinematic culture being molded according to Western
viewpoints and prejudices.”26 This could very well account for the emergence
and wide circulation of a national art cinema under the aegis of the so-called
“Iranian New Wave” in the mid-1980s. But it is important to emphasize, before
returning to the last decades of the twentieth century, that even if luti stories
were considered national in some respects, the filmic codes that were formative
of the tough guy genre and the film-farsi melodrama articulated “a vernacular
modernity” that had its filmic roots in the Hollywood westerns and American
melodramas shown “yek sareh” with them in urban theatres.27
This photograph taken of Tammaddon cinema in the late 1950s (Figure 6) is
a profound example of the kind of back-to-back screening practice in Tehran
woman takes the film into a no man’s land outside its own time and space.” Visual and Other
Pleasures (Bloomington, 1989): 40.
24
Hamid Naficy, “Iran,” The International Movie Industry, (Carbondale and Edwardsville, 2000):
103.
25
Ibid.
26
Godfrey Cheshire, “Abbas Kiarostami: Seeking a Home,” Projections 8: Filmmakers on Film-
making (London, 1998): 277.
27
The word yek sareh, which could be translated as “head on,” refers to a “seriality” in viewing
practice. The word developed as a result of a tendency amongst Iranian film audiences to arrive late
to film screenings. They would purchase their tickets and walk into the cinema mid-screening. They
would watch the film all the way through, and then stay to watch the beginning of the film at the
next showing. Audiences for multiple films and multiple screenings paid only a one-time entrance
fee. One could also, then, translate yek sareh as “one way.” Jafar Shahri, Tehran-e Ghadeem, Vol 1
(Tehran, 1997–98): 286.
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 541
classic Avventurera (Alberto Gout, 1950) in which love becomes a commodity for
everyday sale. Women’s fashions and hairstyles are deliberately European in
Delkash and Vigen’s Zalem Bala and in their later film Farda Roshan Ast (Tomorrow
is Bright, Sardar Saker, 1960): teased beehives and low cut dresses, shot in classical
Hollywood form, to emphasize ankles, breasts, and eyebrows. Addressing a
woman’s charity group from Qum, Khomeini spoke with derision about such
women “typical of the era of Muhammad Reza and Reza Khan,” “who copied
the European mode of dressing and the European styles, and [who] waited for
their dresses to be sent to them from Europe.” 28 That the Islamic women of
the post-Revolution era have “transcended themselves,” he declares, “is by far
the greatest of all reformations in our society.”29
True, Iranian cinema participated in the global trade of modern commodities
through its own melodramatic genres, but this trade was not limited to goods. On
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the global marketplace, Hollywood’s biggest trade was in “the mass production of
the senses.” Even the most ordinary American films, writes Miriam Hansen,
“were involved in producing a new sensory culture” attuned to the changing
fabric of everyday life, of sociability, and of leisure which the luti film genre
and the film-farsi reproduced en masse.30 It was this sensory culture that was to
become the inheritance of the Khomeini regime on the eve of the Iranian Revolution.
liberation movements, Khomeini refers to a process by which the East lost its
cultural identity to the West. Iranian youth were “beguiled,” “stripped,” and
“denuded” so that the West “could better plunder our wealth before the eyes
of an indifferent people.”32
Khomeini’s revolution was a prosaic matter. His was a revolution under the
skin: “You cannot see the essence of bodies but only their accidents,” wrote
Khomeini, “our eyes see color . . ., our ears hear sounds; our sense of taste
experiences flavors; and with our hands we feel the external dimensions of an
object. But all these are accidents . . . Where then is the body itself?” he asks.
“The body itself is a mystery, the shade or reflection of a higher mystery.”33
In its mimetic play with light and shadow, the Iranian film industry was tasked to
represent another world as the reflection of that higher Shi’ite mystery. To bring
this mystery to life, the industry was to produce a body unhampered by the con-
ventions and codes of realism in dominant cinema. In this, its reconditioning of
cinematic technologies, the Islamic government attempted to summon the Na-
koja-Abad of the imaginal world and it was this world that the theocracy aimed
to establish in the empirical world as the body of the nation by means of a purified
national sensorium.
Though a mystical veil surrounds the whereabouts of the twelfth Imam, it is
said that he went into occultation from the world of sensory experience as a
young child (in 873 AD). For centuries now, he has been thought to reside on
the Green Island, a timeless place, a land of nowhere (Na-koja-Abad), a land
without coordinates. His imminent return imbues every moment of time with
significance. The Na-koja-Abad, in which the twelfth Imam resides, perhaps
along with the other imams, is self-sufficient, immune, and closed to the
outside world, at least according to the accounts of those who have seen it.
Only those who are summoned, are able to find their way to this unknown
region—-to an imaginal world that is described as both an oasis in the desert
and an island in green waters.
Historically, in the Iranian context, the imaginal world appears in the empirical
world and is perceived by the senses of the believers during the month of
Muharram. The life-giving energies of the imaginal world animate the rawzeh
and similar ritual performances such as the ta’ziyeh passion play. In the course
of the ta’ziyeh performance, a performance which recalls the early history of
Shi’ism, actors and spectators together become imaginal bodies, resurrection
bodies, that simultaneously enact the past history of Islam and its redeemed
32
Ruhollah Khomeini, “Speech Given to Representatives of the World Liberation Move-
ments (10 January), Selected Messages and Speeches of Imam Khomeini (Tehran, 1980), 91 – 92.
33
Ruhollah Khomeini, Islam and Revolution: 410.
544 Mottahedeh
messianic future on an open stage, which in the course of the play comes to
belong to the no-time and no-place (Na-koja-Abad) that is scheduled to reappear
on the this-worldly plane on Judgment Day.
Constituted by the intimate, sensate collective body of the believer, ta’ziyeh’s
historical stage is the nation-as-body alive in the present. It becomes, in the
course of the Muharram ritual, the future purified imaginal body of the nation
itself. This articulation of the national sensate body that traffics the revolutionary
and spiritual history of the nation—the nation as an imaginal world, conditioned by
an ambivalence in time and space—is the very structure of post-revolution
Iranian cinema. Here we recall the no-place that is Koker and Siah Darreh,
both, in Abbas Kiarostami’s Life and Nothing More (1991), Through the Olive
Trees (1994), and The Wind Will Carry Us (1999); and the all-time of temporal
compression in Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s A Moment of Innocence (Noon o Goldoon,
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Figure 7. Bodies cast shadows as they drape clothes on lines to dry in The Wind
Will Carry Us
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Figure 8. Herds of sheep fill the unpaved roads in The Wind Will Carry Us
Iranian Cinema in the 20th Century 547
Figure 11. Hay moves as if on its own in The Wind Will Carry Us
548 Mottahedeh
month ago and an old villager lives to be 150 or 100 with a discount. Witness
Farzad’s “young” uncle in The Wind Will Carry Us (Figure 12). A fabulated
world appears to show technology’s utopian capacity to dream, in wonderment
of its own continued ability to capture motion in the shifting movements of
everyday life, movements that occur, not center-screen, but on the conspicuous
peripheries of repeating scenes.
We often wonder why so many of the contemporary Iranian films we see in
Western film festivals lack a narrative, a story. It was in response to this vision
of Iran as imaginal world, I believe, that Iranian film narratives became secondary
to the religious and political task of nation building—a nation building through
the senses.