Director Report Card: Marjane Satrapi (2020)

5. Radioactive

Marjane Satrapi, as a filmmaker, has had her brush with Oscar gold. “Perspeolis,” after all, was nominated for an Academy Award. Her subsequent features have all been too quirky or not prestige-y enough to garner much in the way of Oscar attention. While I have no proof, one suspects Satrapi was really hoping to gain some award season attention with her latest feature. “Radioactive” is a biopic of Marie Curie, a world-famous historical figure, a woman that changed history during a time when suffrage was still an on-going concern. One assumes this was the plan but “Radioactive” would not earn any gold statues. In fact, it's probably the worst reviewed movie of Satrapi's career.

In 1934, world renown scientist Marie Curie collapses suddenly at her laboratory. As she's carried off to the hospital, he looks back on her life. She recalls a time in 1893, when her proposal for a bigger lab was rejected and she, by chance, met Pierre Curie. The two bonded over their love of science and fell into a whirlwind romance. Working together, Marie and Pierre discover polonium and radium. The discovery earns them awards and global attention, yet Marie still struggles with her role as a woman in a deeply sexist field and her past traumas. It soon becomes apparent that exposure to radioactive elements is hazardous to her health, Pierre growing sick before dying in a freak accident. Marie continues to struggle against the prejudice of her time, her growing sickness, and her desire to do good in the world.

If it doesn't seem like the biography genre has much to interest the director of “The Voices,” there are occasional indications inside “Radioactive” that it is a Marjane Satrapi movie. The movie includes several elaborate fantasy sequences. A dancer in a color-changing dress moves throughout several memories. As Marie and Pierre conceive their first child together, their shadows drift off and specks of light within a void fuse together. After her husband's death, Curie experiences an upsetting dream full of slow-motion and backwards imagery. Later, when having an anxiety attack upon entering a hospital, similar techniques are utilized to display her state of mind. 

Aside from those brief flights of fancy, there's very little of the visual panache I associate with Satrapi's movies. In fact, “Radioactive” has very little of “The Voices'” bright colors or “Chicken with Plums'” opulent photography. Most of the film is shot in an overly dour fashion. The entire movie is seemingly colored by a sickly green hue – I suppose as a reference to Curie's famous glowing isotopes – that is matched with a damp gray color. Most of the movie's visual palette gives the impression of an overcast and rainy day. It's a disappointingly dreary direction for the filmmaker to take, after her last movie was so visually vibrant.

There is another indication that this is a Marjane Satrapi film. The opening framing device, of Marie Curie on her death bed looking back at her life, recalls “Chicken with Plums” and parts of “Persepolis.” Like those films, “Radioactive” leaps around in time... Yet it does not stay confined to Curie's life. Instead, the film jumps around in time, showing the effects of radiation throughout human history. We see radiation therapy being used to fight a young boy's cancer. We also see the H-bomb being dropped on Japan or a glimpse at the Chernobyl disaster. The point the film is trying to make with these sequences is never entirely clear. It certainly doesn't have much to do with Curie's life and feels like a pretentious attempt to make the movie deeper and more important than it actually is. It's a misstep and, especially when the film is invoking the annihilation of Hiroshima in the middle of its runtime, feels in questionable taste.  

The first half of “Radioactive” is largely focused on Marie and Pierre's romance. The two are treated to a rom-com style meet-cute that involves Pierre picking up a note book Marie dropped and handing it to her. The two meet up later, falling deeply in love shortly there after. The film attempts to portray the passion these two had for each other. We are shown them skinny-dipping on their honeymoon. Repeatedly, the film has Pierre express how much his wife means to him, how he can't imagine his life without her. Yet it never quite clicks. For all its attempts to poke into the intimate inner lives of these famous figures, their depiction never feels very real or especially touching. This great love of their's feels more implied than actually shown.

Most of the posters for “Radioactive” feature a tagline referencing Curie as being a “rebel.” There's a lot of attention paid to her status as a female scientist, in a time notoriously unfriendly to women in a professional status. When the Curies receive the Nobel Prize, Marie has to fight to be recognized. When Pierre goes to speak on her behalf, she is incensed with him. Numerous old men on various councils challenge Marie throughout the movie. Yet “Radioactive” very rarely addresses the systemic problems behind such wide-spread sexism. In some moments, like when the wife of a colleague Marie sleeps with after Pierre's death confronts her and attacks her because of her Polish nationality, the film feels less interested in the struggles a woman of the time – or any time – faces trying to be taken seriously and more like juicy 19th century drama. 

This is far from the only misstep the film takes when addressing its topic. “Radioactive” is, ostensibly, a movie about science. Yet it spends surprisingly little time on actually discussing why Marie and Pierre's work was so groundbreaking. We are treated to a few fancy light shows, attempting to explain the science behind these discoveries. A handful of montages expound on their scientific processes. None of it is that well fleshed out. More often, “Radioactive” feels like it is telling us how important the Curies' work was, instead of actually teaching us about how important it was. Coming out of the film, I felt like I barely knew any more about its subject than I did going in. 

The parts of “Radioactive” that turn out to be most enlightening are its more minor touches. The film depicts the Curies are celebrities of their time. After their discovery of new elements become worldwide news, radiation essentially becomes a fad. We see radium being used in every from matches to chocolates. This is not only darkly humorous, considering we all know how dangerous radiation is, but also an insight into the culture of the time. Similarly, the film's brief detours into the world of spiritualism – which Marie rejected by Pierre was intrigued by – is also interesting. It's a nice contrast that one of the most lauded scientific minds of the time could fall for a obvious hoax. Or how it reflected on his relationship with his skeptical wife. These minor scenes end up being the most compelling in the entire movie.

Biopics like this are almost always intended to show off the lead actor's abilities. Rosalind Pike stars as Marie Curie. Pike is okay. She does a good job of playing the turmoil Marie feels in her day-to-day life, grappling with a life time of trauma and her growing awareness of her own mortality. Yet the script ultimately lets Pike down. Marie Curie is, too often, reduced to a series of easily understood quirks. She has a phobia of hospital, because she watched her mother die in one when she was a child. She's socially awkward in her early scenes, because she's a woman more interested in science than social niceties. We never seem to get a real sense of her as a person, only as a collection of character traits.

Pike is backed up by a capable supporting cast that is also let down by the thin screenplay. Sam Riley plays Pierre and does a good job of balancing his intellectual pursuits with his emotional devotion to his wife, even if we never get a very deep dive into his motivations for either of this goals. Anna Taylor-Joy has a late-in-the-film appearance as the adult version of Curie's daughter, Irene. Irene, of course, was also a scientist and Nobel winner who eventually died from extended exposure to radiation. “Radioactive” can only hint at this and instead depicts Irene as someone pushing her mother back into the field late in life. Taylor-Joy is excellent at playing a young spit-fire, so she's well cast, but the character is never more than a sketch.

Even if the romance never entirely works, it's still the most interesting part of “Radioactive.” Once Pierre exits the film, the film devolves into a shapeless and depressing biopic chronicling the personal and professional failures of Marie's later life. She begins a desperate affair with a colleague. She grows more ostracized, the public turning on her due to the dangerous nature of radiation. As World War I starts, Curie is exposed to the horrors of the war. It's just more misery piled on top of each other, none of it feeling especially pointed or meaningful. “Radioactive” often feels like its running through a checklist of facts about Curie's life, strung along a standard rise, fall, and rise again story arc. 

“Radioactive” was distributed by Amazon Studios, who originally intended to give the movie a wide theatrical release. Presumably, this would have been in hopes of gathering some Oscar buzz. Instead, 2020 happened and “Radioactive” squeaked out onto streaming without getting much attention... Not much positive attention anyway. The movie did attract some minor controversy for the inaccuracies it depicts in Curie's life. (I can't say I noticed this, as I'm not a Curie expert. Sorry, chemistry was never my strong suit.) Satrapi's defense to this was that “Radioactive” was not based on Curie's life but rather a graphic novel inspired by her life. Controversial or not, “Radioactive” less than glowing reception was justified. It's a shallow biography executed with a frequently clumsy hand. [Grade: C-]

Marjane Satrapi continues to be an artist I'm interested in. If “Radioactive's” underwhelming reception and quality ends up sinking her career as a filmmaker, I imagine she'll continue to work on her impressive, funny, and insightful graphic novels. Her first four feature films, anyway, are a collection of quirky and interesting motion pictures that I enjoy a lot. (Even the one I couldn't really understand.) I certainly hope that “Radioactive” was just a misstep and not a sign of things to come. Even if it was, we'll always have “Persepolis” and “The Voices.” 

Director Report Card: Marjane Satrapi (2014)

4. The Voices

Any film fan worth their salt knows about the Black List. That's the annually assembled list of the hottest un-produced screenplays circulating in Hollywood. What I somehow didn't know is that there's a horror version of the Black List. First put together in 2009, the Blood List similarly ranks the hottest horror scripts that have let to be filmed. (Or, at least, the hottest horror scripts submitted to the people who decide these things.) A few notable films have emerged out of this tradition and the first of them was “The Voices.” Written by Michael J. Perry, the script would catch the attention of Marjane Satrapi, making her second solo feature and first American film. 

Jerry is an upbeat young man, working in a shipping department of a bathtub factory. He's devoted to his pets, cat Mr. Whiskers and dog Boscoe. He has a crush on his co-worker, Fiona, so much so that he doesn't notice Lisa in accounting is obviously smitten with him. He sees a court-appointed shrink every week, who makes sure he continues to take his medication. But Jerry hasn't been taken his medication... Which is why Mr. Whiskers and Boscoe talk to him. Mr. Whiskers tells Jerry to do terrible things. Following a chance encounter with Fiona and a car accident, Jerry “accidentally” kills her. Soon, Jerry's visions, fantasies and homicidal tendencies begin to intrude on the façade of a normal life he's created.  

Even though none of her previous films fit into the horror genre, it's easy to see why Marjane Satrapi would be drawn towards “The Voices.” In her past work, we see an interest in how people perceive reality. In “Persepolis,” young Marji's memories and the memories of her family were brought to vivid life, illustrating how they see the world. Much the same was done in “Chicken with Plums,” as we took an inside-out look at a man's life. Even the shifting deceptions of “Gang of the Jotas” displays this theme. “The Voices” takes place almost entirely in Jerry's head. Without the audience even realizing it, we are seeing his version of events. Occasionally, such as when Jerry takes his medication, the camera will pull back and reveal the truth: That his apartment is filthy and dingy. That human entrails have been left on the forest floor. Yet most of “The Voices” occupies the space between Jerry's ears, showing a distinct representation of reality that isn't even real within the film.

“The Voices” shows Jerry's disconnect from reality in a highly cinematic fashion. The film's visual palette is ever so slightly exaggerated. The colors are bright and vibrant, such as in the hot pink jumpsuits Jerry wears at work. Or the spotless white dress Fiona wears when Jerry retrieves her body. There's also a gleeful symmetry to the film's visual language. Whether he's standing in his shadowy apartment or doing a conga line through the offices at work, every detail in “The Voices” is perfectly, intentionally placed. You see the comic book artist in Satrapi poking through several times. Such as when Jerry leans over Fiona's corpse in the background, framed by the trees around him. Satrapi finds a way to indulge her visual trademarks that speak to the story's themes and ideas.

That Jerry's pets communicate with him is no doubt a reference to David Berkowitz claiming his neighbor's dog told him to kill. Yet “The Voices” uses this on-the-surface absurd deference of guilt to tell us more about Jerry's inner struggle. Mr. Whiskers urges Jerry to kill, to give into his murderous impulses. Boscoe, meanwhile, is the angel on his other shoulder, encouraging him to do the right thing, to stop or turn himself in. The cat is a predator, eager to hunt prey. A cat sees nothing wrong with killing. The dog represents obedience to the social norms, to the laws of good and evil. Mr. Whiskers wants Jerry to be a killer. Boscoe wants Jerry to be a “good boy.”   

This is not the deepest symbolism, when it comes to our feline and canine friends. In fact, I've seen very similar uses of both animals in lesser movies. Yet what makes “The Voices'” use of the talking cat and dog trope so clever is that, despite their symbolic value, they are still animals. They still do the stuff you associate with pets. Mr. Whiskers still demands Jerry feeds him, regardless of what else is going on. At one point, because he got home late, Mr. Whiskers takes a shit on Jerry's couch. Despite being the voice of reason between the two animals, Boscoe is still a dog. He demands to smells people's crotches throughout the film or becomes overjoyed when offered a walk. It's a really funny way to defuse any pretensions involved in the story, in which Mr. Whiskers and Boscoe represents Jerry's battling urges and are still regular animals. 

Pets represent something else too: They are the people that often keep us company when no one else will. We invite animals into our homes because we enjoy their companionship, because it holds the loneliness back. “The Voices” is a movie that understands loneliness, and all the other emotions tied in with it, well. We get glimpses of Jerry's abusive childhood, of an abusive father and a mother wracked with her own mental illness. We learn that, from a young age, he's heard voices and invented personas to communicate with. (Via a frankly nightmarish scene devoted to the squeaky-voiced “Bunny Monkey.”) Throughout the story, Jerry finds companionship elsewhere, with the women in his life. When he screws up and murders them – something of a metaphor for a very bad break-up – he keeps their heads around, which also talk to him. Jerry doesn't take his meds because it means confronting his pain-filled past. It means living with loneliness, instead of escaping into a fantasy world of talking animals and girlfriends that still love him after they're dead. 

Despite being a slaughterer of women, whose killings grow more calculated and cold-blooded as the film goes on, we sympathize with Jerry. We see and understand the trauma that forged him. He's trying his best to be normal. He projects the image of a naïve and awkward man-child who projects an upbeat attitude at all times, in such a way that it becomes uncomfortable. He never lashes out in anger but in fear, killing in some sort of desperate attempt to protect himself or his world. This can be frightening, as you watch him spiral more into madness. Yet Jerry is also us. In a key scene, his shrink explains that we all hear voices. We all have feelings of doubt and fear and anxiety. Of competing impulses, to destroy others or ourselves or listen to our better nature. 

Another reason why we like Jerry is because of the actor playing him. Ryan Reynolds, right before “Deadpool” made him a box office drawl again, stars. The aggressive comedic energy Reynolds has, which can be grating or mugging when applied to the wrong roles, are expertly channeled here. Reynolds' desire to have everyone like him works really well for a serial killer desperate to project an upbeat attitude, to trick others and himself into thinking he's normal. Reynolds also provides all the voices Jerry hears. He gives Mr. Whiskers a Scottish brogue and Boscoe a doofy cartoon voice. Reynolds does a good enough job of disguising his voice so that you don't immediately recognize him as the animals, while also sounding enough like Jerry that you get what the film is going for.

Reynolds' casting also serves another purpose: He's handsome, which makes it believable that some beautiful women would be attracted to him even with his somewhat off-putting personality. This is why Fiona willingly gets into a car with him. Or why Lisa develops a crush on him. Gemma Arterton plays the former while Anna Kendrick is the latter. Arterton perfectly plays Fiona as all surface, someone whose gorgeous and bubbly exterior hides nothing much at all. This makes it clear that Jerry sees something in her that isn't quite there. Kendrick, meanwhile, plays Lisa as lovably dorky, someone willing to put up with a lot to make people love her. Which certainly suggest that she has some trauma of her own in her past. Another fine performer in the film is Jacki Weaver as Jerry's shrink, who does a good job of balancing sincere concern with perhaps some misplaced hope. Yet she knows what to do when the time comes, delivering that key monologue late in the film.

Some have accused Marjane Satrapi's films in the past of being too “cute.” Too knowingly quirky or self-aware in their surreal touches. Those who have that problem with her movies will not have their opinions changed by “The Voices.” Jerry lives above an abandoned bowling alley, the neon sign of the pins prominently featured in several moments. A moment of forklifts taking boxes off the trucks at the factory is choreographed like a dance. A sequence takes place in a Chinese restaurant, where the waiters perform elaborate shows for the dinners. Jerry's murders are only discovered because of the intrusion of some nosy co-workers (one of which is played by edge lord producer Adi Shankar for some reason), who are not the most realistic characters. And if you're expecting a serial killer movie directed by a woman to question what role sexism plays in Jerry's choices, “The Voices” isn't exactly that kind of movie.

Ultimately, I guess I'm a sucker for Satrapi's strain of self-aware quirky bullshit. A number of the oddball jokes in this movie made me laugh. Such as everything playing on the TV perfectly corresponding to the conversations Jerry has with his pets. Or a moment where everyone in the apartment, including Mr. Whiskers, starts screaming like crazy. The movie's most extravagant swing is also its most unexpected. Throughout “The Voices,” Jerry sings “Sing a Happy Song” by The O'Jays, a musical choice that obviously reflects his desire to project positivism no matter how bleak he may feel. This builds up to a fantastically colorful, beautifully choregraphed, and hilariously unexpected song-and-dance number in the film's final moments. It's the perfect moment of wacky, yet strangely empathetic, humor to end with, a touch of darkness just under the irrepressibly upbeat music. 

“The Voices” was one of many vehicles almost directed by Mark Romanek and nearly had Ben Stiller in the starring role. Considering he had already directed “One Hour Photo,” a far more bracing movie about an isolated psychopath with unhealthy obsessions, one imagines Romanek's “Voices” would've been a far more intense film. In Satrapi's hands, with Reynolds' off-beat energy in the lead role, “The Voices” becomes a delightfully funny and surprisingly rich dark comedy. Reynolds expressed regret that the movie didn't attract more of an audience, though it's hard to imagine a movie like this reaching the same level of success as, say, “Deadpool.” I think it might be his best film. It might be Satrapi's best film too, her visual inventiveness and trademark bent sense of humor finding a sturdy home in this tale of pets and brutal murder. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: Marjane Satrapi (2012)

3. The Gang of the Jotas

Le bande des Jotas

“Persepolis” was a worldwide success and “Chicken with Plums” won pretty good reviews all around. Yet an animated film and a surreal drama full of magic-realism were involved productions with a lot of moving parts. For her third feature – and her first as a solo director, ending her partnership with Vincent Paronnaud – Marjane Satrapi wanted to make an extremely low budget movie designed simply to remind her how much fun it is to make movies. “The Gang of the Jotas” was, by some accounts, shot over the course of a week. Satrapi herself would direct, write, and star in the movie. The indie would be released in 2012...

...kind of. “The Gang of the Jotas” would play a number of festivals in 2012. A trailer, presumably meant to advertise a theatrical release, would follow sometime after that. Yet if “The Gang of the Jotas” ever received a wide release of any sort, I'm unaware of it. As far as I know, no DVD exist. If the film was ever streaming anywhere, it's not now. I couldn't even find a pirated copy floating around the various torrent websites. I was about ready to accept this as one of those movies I've come across in this project, that are just hopelessly unavailable and end up left out of my retrospectives simply because I can't find them. 

That was when I came across a copy of the film uploaded to the obscure Russian version of Youtube. The only problem was that this copy was without subtitles. At first, I assumed it was in un-subtitled French, the language the movie was filmed in. Yet it didn't sound like French and, after doing a little Googling, I learned this version was dubbed in Turkish. This copy also, for whatever, censors every appearance of a cigarette. Normally I would've just said “fuck it” and exclude a movie only available under this circumstances. Still, being so close to seeing the missing film bugged me so I decided to try watching the movie in this condition. Consider this the most unusual review I've ever done: My attempt to talk about a movie I can't understand, that isn't even in the right language I can't understand.

Luckily a couple of detailed plot synopses of “Gang of the Jotas” are out there, meaning I had a fairly good idea of the story that unfolded. A mysterious woman has her luggage mixed up with Nils and Didier, two men (and seemingly lovers) who are badminton players. The woman tells them a story, about how her sister was assassinated by the Spanish mafia and more professional killers are after her. The guys accompany her as she buys a gun and, in a instinctual moment, Nils shoots an attacker. Drawn in with the woman now, Nils and Didier head to Spain as they attempt to eliminate the murderers who after them before they can do the jobs themselves. (Further resources tell me that all the targets' names begin with J, hence the title.) At least, I'm pretty sure that's what is happening.

Reviewing a movie in a language you don't understand presents a number of challenges. Without being able to grasp every nuance of the plot, or enjoy the specific wording of the dialogue, you start to focus on the visuals or the physical acting. “Gang of the Jotas,” however, ended up being a heavily dialogue-driven movie. This is presumably because Marjane Satrapi made the movie for next to no money. Scenes of people sitting around and talking are very cheap to shoot. All I could do was infer the meaning of their conversations from the actors' faces and what happens around them. I'm sure there was a lot of word play I missed out and I wasn't entirely sure what was going on in quite a few sequences.

Luckily, there's also a number of scenes in “Gang of the Jotas” that don't rely on dialogue or plot at all. This is a road movie. There are many long sequences devoted to our characters driving from one location to the next. In fact, several minutes of screen time are entirely devoted to the road and sky racing by from the backseat of a car. We see a number of bizarre locations, like massive circles in the ground at a former mining compound, or some sort of Christ-like figure living as a hermit in an isolated area. Perhaps because I couldn't understand the language, I also found myself focusing on the music. A handful of moments get provided with an upbeat energy thanks to some jangly songs on the soundtrack. At one point, Marjane even does an improvised dance at a gas station.

Even if I couldn't understand the exact details of the criminal conspiracy pursuing Satrapi's unnamed character, on account of not speaking the language, some things are evident. Midway through the film, there's a sequence where the woman wakes up in the middle of the night, pursued by visions of attackers who aren't there. As the film goes on, it seems the killings the woman and her partners engage in are less and less justified. Even if I couldn't grasp the complete details, the film's twist ending is still pretty easy to get. “Gangs of the Jotas” seems to take the fascination with memory Satrapi showed in her first two films inside out here, where reality itself is as uncertain as the recollections were the last two times. 

Judging performances when you can't understand exactly how the actors are using their voices is tricky. However, a few things are obvious. Marjane Satrapi, acting as the mysterious woman who motivates the plot, is clearly having fun. Some reviewers have criticized her acting as unprofessional or shaky. Maybe that's more obvious if you speak the language. To me, I just see Satrapi enjoying herself by inhabiting a manic and shaky figure, either a master manipulator or someone so involved in their own fantasy that others can't help but be caught up in it. The other key performers of the film, Mattias Ripa and Stéphane Roche, are a lot harder to read. Neither are actors, as Ripa has no other credits at all and Roche has mostly worked as an editor. (Including on Satrapi's other films.) 

Taken within the context of the rest of Satrapi's movies, “Gang of the Jotas” clearly shows some of her emerging trademarks. As she did in her first two features, this one frequently contrasts humor with macabre events. Murder in this movie is frequently followed up with jokes. The first gunfire that happens is followed by a broad, slapstick foot chase. A sequence of a man being tossed from a skyscraper is proceeded by a farcical scramble against a frosted glass window. For extra macabre contrast, the plot seemingly occurs around Christmas. Throughout the film, we also see Satrapi's preference for placing ordinary events alongside comical ones. Such as the director herself laying on the ground, her eyes darting back and forth as a shuttlecock flies over her head. Or an especially unexpected urination playing out in a picturesque location. 

Even though my viewing of the film was far from ideal, I still found myself enjoying “Gangs of the Jota.” Several reviews dismiss the movie as simply an established filmmaker messing around, which is not exactly wrong. The film is obviously a lark. Yet it also runs all of seventy-five minutes, so it's not a lark that overstays its welcome. There's a peppy energy and a morbid sense of humor running through this, evident even when watched in the conditions I did, that I found myself enjoying. I really hope this gets picked up by a state-side distributor eventually, so I can really appreciate this one. On the off chance that happens, I might rewrite this review. Until then, this will have to do. Unless someone reading this understands Turkish and wants to translate for me... [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Marjane Satrapi (2011)

2. Chicken with Plums

Co-directed with Vincent Paronnaud

Having successfully adapted “Persepolis” from the page to the screen, four years later Marjane Satrapi decided to try something similar again. In 2011, she would re-team with Vincent Paronnaud to make another cinematic adaptation of one of her comics. The big difference between “Persepolis” and “Chicken with Plums” is that the latter would mark Satrapi's live action film debut. Yet, despite the drastic change in mediums, Satrapi's second feature has quite a lot in common with her first. “Chicken with Plums” would roll out in French theaters in October of 2011, with a worldwide release following some time afterwards.

Nasser-Ali is a great violinist, living in 1950s Persia. During an argument, his wife smashes his prized violin. Nassar travels the world to find a replacement but none are suitable. No longer able to enjoy his art form, he makes the decision to die. He lays in bed and waits for death, which arrives eight days later. Over the course of that last week alive, Nasser reflects on his life, his loves, his choices. His wife and brother try to talk him out of his decision but he remains steadfast. He also sees forward into the future, to the people his two children will grow up to be. 

With “Chicken with Plums,” Satrapi continues to show her interest in memory. Just as “Persepolis” was devoted to someone looking back at their life, her second feature grapples with similar themes. If anything, this film is even more devoted to the idea of someone being lost in their recollections of the past. The line between past, present and future – between reality and fantasy – often blur. Instead of being told strictly from Nasser's perspective, “Chicken with Plums” features an omniscient narrator. Which allows for the fantastical leaps forward in time. The film even begins with the French variation on “Once upon a time,” setting up a whimsical story that resides within the mind from its first moment.

Another theme running throughout the film is the relationships between parents and their children. Nasser's own mother was a control freak, telling him who to marry and what adult life is supposed to be like. Despite her controlling nature, Nasser had a close relationship with his mom. Her death provides one of the film's most melancholy moments. Nasser's bond with his own children is harder to read. He often finds it difficult to relate to his rambunctious son. While he thinks his wife, who forces his daughter to focus exclusively on her studies, is too strict... He also makes no attempt to step in. His difficulty in relating to his kids is emphasized with a moment where, while attempting to explain his situation to his offspring, his son interrupts by farting. (Which is comical contrasted by having the same thing happen to Socrates.) Parents not entirely able to relate to their kids as complex human beings seems to be something on Satrapi's mind here.

Maybe family is just a big part of the film in general. “Chicken with Plums” also comes to reflect on Nasser's relationship with his brother, Abdi. While Nasser was shunned by his parents and at school, Abdi was beloved by teachers and their father. Yet there's no resentment between siblings, both feeling warmly towards each other. This is opposed to Nasser's own relationship with his wife, which is often embittered. They argue constantly, often debating on how to raise their children or how much money Nasser is making. If not an elaboration on more complex themes, “Chicken with Plums” is an examination of a man that has trouble connecting with anyone.

As I was watching “Chicken with Plums” last night, I found myself wondering. Nasser's connection with his violin, with his art, is so meaningful that he looses the will to live when he looses the ability to play. Yet little time was being spent on why this means so much to me... A question Satrapi intentionally holds off on answering until the movie's final twenty minutes. In a burst of storytelling, we learn exactly why that violin was so significant to Nasser. Why it was a well spring for his great abilities as an artist. The movie implies that great art arises out of a pain, heartbreak. That all great art is an expression of inner pain, a way to metabolize the trauma of our lives. Whether this is true for everyone is debatable but it's certainly true for some people.

Shoving so much of the movie's thematic meat into its last third probably shouldn't work. Yet “Chicken with Plums'” cultivation of an intentionally dream-like tone goes a long way towards making that workable. The film has a very stylized look, its visual design obviously replicated the painted quality of a comic book panel or the high-contrast visuals of Satrapi's black-and-white artwork. For example, when Nassar recalls his childhood schooling with his brother, the boys appear in pillars of light in darkened rooms. The opening shot, a pan down the picturesque streets of 1950s Tehran, deliberately set up the dream-like tone of what is to follow. In other words, Satrapi successfully leaps from animation to live action without loosing any of the eye-catching images.

She doesn't loose her eye for surrealism either. “Chicken with Plums” fills its story with fantastic day dreams. When he decides to die, Nasser imagines a number of elaborate scenarios for his own suicide, each one beautifully shot. This is far from the only whimsical take on loosing one's life. The death of his mother is followed by a plume of white smoke floating over her grave and then a meeting with a prophet-like figure. An extended sequence involves a meeting with the angel of death, who is depicted as a soft-spoken and char-skinned demon in a black hood. This follows an earlier meeting with another fantastical figure: A giant version of Sophia Loren, who smothers Nasser in her enormous cleavage. Which is a more pleasant option than the other forms of termination he imagines. 

Perhaps to show that she hasn't strayed too far from her first feature, and as the ultimate example of its surreal tendencies, “Chicken with Plums” also includes an animated sequence. It's a story the angel of death tells, about someone who took great efforts to avoid him. You will probably immediately notice this as a variation on “The Appointment in Samarra,” a Middle Eastern myth that is best known via W. Somerset Maugham. The animation in this moment recalls the puppetry inspired sequences in “Persepolis,” with a similar mix of grimness and humor. Did this animated stop-off add anything to the film? Probably not but it's fun to look at. 

Also among the fantasy sequences are flash-forwards, so Nasser can see his children's lives. His daughter's future is depicted solely in a dark and smoky room, as she plays cards. Her son's life, meanwhile, plays out as a parody of American sitcom. And it's the lowest point in the movie, a burst of shrill and obnoxious humor that jives badly with the rest of the movie's atmosphere. A phony laugh-track plays over multi-camera jokes about teenagers being into hip-hop and how fat and stupid Americans are. Is that what people in France think people in the U.S. are like? It's a moment of grotesque, overdone humor that sticks out badly among the film's more dream-like choices. 

“Chicken with Plums” is a starring role for Mathieu Amalric, who I best know as the bad guy in “Quantum of Solace.” This is a very different performance from that weaselly villainous role. Amalric plays Nasser as someone deeply committed to his own principals, even if it means alienating everyone around him. Amalric gives a layered performance, letting the audience know exactly how much of an ass Nasser can be while also making us understand he has his reasons for being this way. Amalric also has pretty strong comedic timing, managing to wring quirky laughs out of the sometimes downbeat material. 

The supporting cast has some strong members as well. Maria de Medeiros, easily best known as “Pulp Fiction's” Fabienne, appears as Nasser's much embittered wife. She also does a good job of balancing the bitterness she feels towards her deadbeat husband and the affection she has with him at the same time. She's the nagging wife type but without ever creating a caricature. Isabella Rossellini plays Nasser's mother as a demanding woman who also manages to maintain her humanity. Rossellini clearly communicates that the mom is sincerely doing what she thinks is right for everyone, even if it comes off as overbearing. Also notable is that Chiara Mastroianni, after her voice role in “Persepolis,” reappears her as the adult version of Nasser's daughter. 

“Chicken with Plums” wasn't just a personal project for Satrapi, on account of her adapting her own comic book. The story is loosely inspired by a real person, a great-uncle of her's who actually lived in 1950s Tehran. Upon release, the film was (not always flatteringly) compared to the work of Jean-Pierre Jeunet, a comparison that is not unfair as both filmmakers balance the surreal and the whimsical with grimmer facts of life. Yet Satrapi's insight in the artistic process takes “Chicken with Plums,” which otherwise threatens to be an uneven film, out on a burst of a feeling. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Marjane Satrapi (2007)

Marjane Satrapi is one of the few notable directors of which filmmaking can be described as something of a side hustle to what she's best known for. The Iranian born Satrapi would come to fame as a cartoonist, for her comic book – she insists on the term “comic book,” as opposed to “graphic novel” – autobiography “Persepolis.” It was when that critically acclaimed book made the leap to a cinema that Satrapi began to pursue movies as a career. She's since made four more features, some good, some weird, some obscure. Let's talk about 'em. 

1. Persepolis

Co-directed with Vincent Paronnaud

In 2003, Marjane Satrapi would publish her two-part illustrated memoir, “Persepolis,” to great acclaim. The book was such a success that it was already being taught in college classes, which is where I read it, a few years later. Shortly afterwards, there were offers to adapt the novels to film. One assumes there was interest in turning “Persepolis” into a live action movie. Yet Satrapi insisted on traditional animation, as she didn't want her story to become another tale of sad people in a foreign country. She would team with fellow comic artist Vincent Paronnaud, animation director Christian Desmares, and a small team of animators to complete the task of producing a feature length animated film for six million Euros.

While sitting in a French airport, Marjane Satrapi reflects on her life. She was born in Iran during the reign of the Shah. Her family is full of political progressives and her Uncle Annosh was a political prisoner, inspiring a fiery personality in Marjane. As the Shah is deposed, the family is initially thrilled. Yet as the religious fundamentalist government is voted into power, things soon become harder in Iran. As war with Iraq breaks up, Satrapi watches her home and family fall into crisis. Remaining outspoken, Marjane and her family make repeated attempt to get her out of Iran before the government arrests her.

“Persepolis” is a biography that functions from both a micro and macro perspective. It is about Marjane Satrapi's life, talking about specific incidents that happen to her and focusing on her experiences. Yet it's also a story about Iran, following the country through its biggest cultural changes of the last fifty years. The film manages to tell a personal story, that someone from any culture can easily relate to, while also sneaking in a great deal of history about a troubled region of the globe. It's a clever approach, that both entertains and educates. (Which is probably why the comic book version frequently has a presence in classrooms.)

The early parts of “Persepolis” are especially interesting for giving us a child's view on history. Marjane is a rambunctious girl, obsessed with Bruce Lee and wanting to grow up to a prophet. At first, she's pro-Shah but, after hearing stories from her uncle and grandmother, she violently turns on him. To the point that she's performing one-girl marches in the living room. Of course, little Marjane doesn't really understand the politics around this situation. Yet providing a youthful window on historical events is a charming way to make them relatable. In these early moments, “Persepolis” feels like a less classical “Hope and Glory.”

In an odd way, “Persepolis” functions as a comedy of sorts, despite its extremely heavy subject matter. Through the eyes of teenage Marjane, we see the under-the-radar ways her and her friends had to rebel during the Ayatollah's reign. An amusing sequence has her buying bootleg recordings of western musical groups from men in black suits, operating more like a drug dealer than a cassette seller. She rocks out to Iron Maiden in secret. When a group of older women catch her wearing Michael Jackson merchandise around her veil, she has to make up an elaborate lie to get out of trouble. It's a trivial form of teenage rebellion that speaks to the bigger issues that was facing the youth in the country.

What's most charming about “Persepolis” is Marji herself. She has a fiery personality and, for long stretches of the film, refuses to be ordered around. She yells at teachers when she discovers they are acting as propagandists. She curses out people spreading rumors about her in a café. She confronts a senile old land lady. Through her challenges, she maintains a spirit and energy that is all her own. Her personality is what builds up an otherwise pretty typical coming-of-age story arc. Marji struggles with authority, attempts to forges her own path, falls in love, gets her heart broken, stumbles into trouble, and returns home before finding herself. 

Yet, unavoidably, “Persepolis” has to touch on the toils of living through a war zone. As the Iran-Iraq War breaks out, the students have to just become accustomed to the ever-present threat of bombing, of frequent drills. People Marji and her family know are killed, with dead bodies on the street becoming a common sight. The threat just doesn't come from outside but from within, as the new government regime imprisons family members and inflicts horrible treatment on them. One of the most quietly effecting moments in the film occurs when Marjane's grandmother rages in frustration that her former window washer is now running a hospital and making decisions that are changing people's lives. 

Despite dropping us into a war zone, “Persepolis” never feels like a depressing foreign drama. Part of this is probably because its animated, which does add a certain degree of distance. Drawing much of its art design from Satrapi's comic, the film features memorable character designs and fluid animation. Only the brief framing device is in color, the rest of the movie playing out in black-and-white, a choice that characterizes these scenes as far-flung memories and also provides an immediately distinct visual style. “Persepolis” proceeds with a style that is immediately charming and interesting.

Telling this story in animation also allows for a number of touches that would've been outside a live action film's scope. When Marjane's parents or uncle tell of Iran's history, it comes to life as elaborate puppet shows, often in the background of other shots. Since this is a movie that lives in memories, its sequences frequently adopt a dream-like style. Such as the bombing of a village being recalled as high-contrast black-and-white images. Or a reoccurring memory of Marjane's, about her grandmother filling her bra with flowers so she always smells nice. By the time those flowers fall from the heavens, you feel embraced by the movie's melancholy atmosphere. 

Since “Persepolis” is a cartoon, it also has a chance to go off on exaggerated flights of fancy. When Marjane describes her early twenties growth spurt, when she changes from a dowdy teenager to a shapely young woman, her transformation plays out on-screen in comical fashion. From an early age, she discusses encounters with God and Karl Marx, which amusingly happen on-camera in very literal fashion. The movie's most joyful moment is an impromptu sing-along to “Eye of the Tiger.” The film's occasional bursts of cartoony visuals continuously delights the viewer, surprising us in the best ways. 

Unfortunately, as sometimes happens with biographic stories, “Persepolis” starts to meander in its last third. That sing-along sequence is really the climax of the movie, where Marjane makes the decision to return home, move forward with her life, and rededicate herself to her goals. Yet the story continues past this point, into a series of increasingly dreary episodes that feel underdeveloped. Such as Marjane's failed marriage or her various encounters while living in Europe. This eventually ends the movie on a note that is not just downbeat but also aimless feeling. I guess real life is like that more often than not. 

There are two versions of “Persepolis” available. A version with the original French dialogue and an English dub. The English dub is hard to recommend. While Gena Rowlands gives a spirited performance as the grandmother, Sean Penn and Iggy Pop – who you'd think would be better skilled at using his voice – give very bored sounding performances as Marji's father and Uncle Anoush. Chiara Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve, as Marjane and her mother, are the only actors in both versions. Which is probably why they give the most lively performances in the dub. I suppose it should go without saying that the original audio is the one to go with but I watched both for you, dear reader.

While not without flaws, “Persepolis” is largely an entertaining, fascinating, and heart-felt film throughout. It looks great, the animation lively and fluid. It tells a story that is charming and funny while also giving us a very personal look at recent history in a foreign country. The movie was honored with an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature, which it lost to another France-adjacent animated feature. (It was also France's submission for Best Foreign Language Film but it wouldn't receive a nomination.) Yet the movie still made Oscar history, as Satrapi was the first – and so far, only – Iranian woman to be nominated in the category. [Grade: B+]