Hi Michael,

now that I received my licentiate degree, and the days got very short in Sweden at the Yalda feast, I am frequently again spending the evenings in my moms home, watching movies. We use to select movies in alternating order, one day it’s me bringing a rather novel film, another day mom suggests one that she knows from her youth.
Yesterday she brought one that was quite popular when she was student, in the wild 70s. The title is Accident, and it is a quite complex story of students and teachers at an Oxford college. The main character, Stephen is an introvert philosophy professor contentedly married to Rosalind, but fearing emotional stultification he yearns for an affair with the enigmatic Anna, played by Jacqueline Sassard. In a typical midlife crisis situation he realises that this could either revitalise or ruin his life. Simultaneously, he is locked in a battle of duelling egos with his student William, whose youthful vitality he envies, and with his friend Charley, whose media prowess and sexual success he covets. The story probes a conflict between intellect and emotion, where an educated elite, who should at least know their own minds, seem incapable of understanding or controlling their inner passions. It is a study of materially comfortable but morally bankrupt people on an emotional collision course, culminating in an accident that will haunt the hero for the rest of his life (as its recollection at the end of the film implies).

Joseph Losey, the director and Harold Pinter, who wrote the screenplay, are graphically and beautifully detailing the things about England they loves — or, at least, those things about Oxford that they find delightful and serene.

You have the look out of the college study window of a gentle philosophy don into the courtyard below, where the green grass is kept neatly trimmed by a placid goat. You watch the main characters punting on the river, with its lazy ripples and its stately swans and see them playing tennis and cricket, lolling through a misty afternoon.

Or, going out into the country, where the don who is his moody hero lives in a pleasant house with a wife and kiddies, the director loves to show everything. He loves the way the light falls in the morning on the wide-board, deep-grained floors. He loves the distant sounds of train whistles and the drone of jets high in the sky above the open fields. He makes everything look so mellow and lovely with his color cameras and his way of dwelling idly upon them that you’d think there’d be no fly in the ointment of this most gracious English world.

But there is a fly in the ointment—a very small one—that has been put there by the screenplay’s writer, Harold Pinter.  It has to do with the dons vagrant longing for the beautiful Austrian student Anna, to whom he is officially the tutor, but as soon as he learns that she has been the mistress of another don, feels deeply cut.

The fact that this other don is not only one of his oldest friends, but is also an aggravating rival because of his playboy allures and success as TV commentator, doesn’t help matters any. Furthermore, our fellow feels he’s getting old.

All this is moodily remembered by our hero, whom Dirk Bogarde plays, in a night just after a terrible automobile accident has happened outside his door. The girl he desires, who was driving, is safe but her companion has been killed, and this companion was another of the don’s students—a young aristocrat to whom the girl was engaged.

Does that sound a little complicated? Well, it isn’t—and it is. It isn’t because, actually, the story that Mr. Pinter and Mr. Losey have to tell is simply a frail exploration of the wistfulness and loneliness of this don. It is a conventional study of the minor anxieties of a man who has everything to make him happy, and yet he isn’t. He is sad.

But it is complicated from the viewpoint of the person watching the film, because no clues whatsoever are given to the nature of the girl. She is beautiful and quietly mysterious as played by Jacqueline Sassard, but we have no indication of why she so lightly switches men. Her function in the picture is to set up an amoral mystery and serve as an unattainable object of desire for our sad-eyed don.

What we discovered when talking with my mom about the different characters and how they developed during the plot of the movie was the discrepancy between hidden emotions and verbal communication. From the very beginning you could guess that both Anna, the student, and Stephen, the teacher have the most deep feelings for each other, but none of them speaks out. They not only hide these feelings from the other acting person (the colleagues and friends), but from each other as well. You can only tell from a particular view in their eyes and from the sound of their vioces, when they talk trivia. One scene shows this pretty clearly: During a lazy garden picknick, Anna is laying in the sun, when William, her “official” partner asks to join him for a walk. She refuses, saying she’d prefer to stay there on the sunchair, so William goes for a walk alone. After a minute she tells Steven how much she likes this afternoon in the garden. He nods, and almost casually replies that he is about to go for a walk. And suddenly, merely 5 minutes after telling William she wants to stay there on the chair, she begs Stephen to take her on the walk with him. This short dialogue might have gone unnoticed by most of the audience, but to me it was the indication that you could guess the real feelings and wishes of the characters only indirectly, never by their outspoken words.

Hope you are doing fine
Take Care
/ghazal

Hi Ghazal, I know this feeling very well, that one is afraid of not fullfilling its own expectations.
Some people say we should learn to prioritize, refuse commitments which we dont see as important. Do the things, which you believe in, with all your energy, and skip the tasks which other people put on you. Of the few ideas which to me (as a complete a-religious person) appear of eternal value from the old testament are the words of Ecclesiast (or King Solomon):

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Thomas Wolfe regarded the old-testamentarian book of Ecclesiast as “… the noblest, the wisest, and the most powerful expression of man’s life upon this earth — and also the highest flower of poetry, eloquence, and truth. I am not given to dogmatic judgments in the matter of literary creation, but if I had to make one I could say that Ecclesiastes is the greatest single piece of writing I have ever known, and the wisdom expressed in it the most lasting and profound.”

The lyrics of Ecclesiastes or King Solomon inspired many musicians to write songs, the most famous perhaps being Pete Seeger, the legendary US protest singer who on the occasion of his 94th birthday was accompanied by a grateful audienence.

best regards Michael

Dear Michael, I once went to Pompeij with somebody who was careless enough to fell in love with me. We got lost, after the Pompeij necropolis was closed and walked around through the darkness, expecting every second that a time leap might send us back to year 79 A.D., when the erupting Vesuv burried the town and all its people underneath. The red-orange background is from a photo we did there at sunset, the mysterious moon in the foreground is from tonight.
Take good care,
/ghazal

The idea of Persia has long fascinated Western minds. From the Middle Ages on, knowledge of Persia gradually expanded as a result of increased contact through trade, travel and diplomacy. Writers in Europe, such as Goethe, Chaucer, Dante and Shakespeare, reflected this understanding in the parallels with Persian literature and shared symbolism evident in their plays, poetry and prose.

Love and devotion showcases a rich selection of manuscripts from the world-renowned collection of the Bodleian Libraries of the University of Oxford, along with rare works from the State Library of Victoria and other Australian collections.

Two Princess: Miniature, Bodleian Collection

The exhibition celebrates the beauty of Persian manuscripts and the stories of human and divine love told through their pages from the early 11th century on.

Romantic tales were copied and sometimes reinterpreted over time, and reached far beyond the borders of Iran. The universal themes of Persian narrative and mystical poetry appealed especially to audiences in Mughal India and Ottoman Turkey, and eventually to audiences in the West. Transcending time and place, these stories continue to resonate today and to be retold through contemporary literature and popular culture.

Persian poetry from the secular tradition flourished in the princely courts of Iran, where illustrated manuscripts were crafted for elite patrons. Today, these provide viewers with the opportunity to experience examples of Persian calligraphy, illumination and miniature painting from the 13th to 18th centuries, one of the richest periods in the history of the book. Many stories from this period were embraced not only in the princely courts but in all sectors of society, told within families and at community gatherings.

Court Francais in Tehran

On its concert tour through Israel a German chanson singer introduced one of his songs (about the mutual dependence of men and woman) as following:

“A woman needs a man mainly for two things: First, to open the champaign bottles, and second, to explaine things.”
One of his fellow musicians, a violinist girl replied after a few seconds “Hold on, wasn’t there one more thing, I just can’t remember what it was”.
I guess you are referring to our duty to wait for her at the side of the pool, with the a fresh towel ?
Yes, you are almost right. It has something to do with waiting. But woman don’t need a man who waits for them, but they need a man they can wait for, like Penelope was waiting for Odysseus.

A more modern version, although from last century is the below graphic that Marina gave me last year for birthday. It shall symbolize me leaving in the morning for work, and returning home in the evening. I have to admit, the most realistic on this image is the happiness of the dog.

On a train ride from Munich to the Alp mountains, between places that carry such pedestrian names as Miesbach (transl.: Ugly Creek) or Schliersee (transl.: Slimy Lake), the train radio announces the next stop will be “Agatharied”. The sound of this name resembles a magical spell, maybe of Sumerian or Egyptian origin. But apart from the enchanting melody of this name, it also stands far above the prosaic meanings of the names of the neighbouring places. “Agatharied” means “Reed of Divine Love”, and here the reference to the Reed beds, which are very common in the wet low-lands of this area, might indeed reminds one of the reed-lined banks of the Nil or Euphrat rivers.

Recently I was invited by a friend in Munich to a reading of poetry by an Iranian writer, who died much too young in 1967, only reaching 32 years of age. Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967) was exceptional among woman in modern Persian literature, since only an extremely small number of Iranian women in general have achieved anything outside of the home without dependence upon a relationship with a man or male patronage.

From the poems of Forough Farrokhzad, which Kianoosh presented this evening I remember the verses from “Another Birth”

… Life may be that cloistered moment
When my gaze comes to ruin in your pupils
Wherein there lies a feeling
Which I shall blend …

During her short life, Forough not only wrote some of the most influential, beautiful and ever-lasting poetries of modern Persian literature, but she also became a proponent of childrens right, in particular for those from the poor families. Her engagement for the children being isolated and hospitalized for leprosis laid in her honest sympathy with those who are suffering. Unlike modern celebrities, who too often present themself in public with an alibi “social” project, Foroughs activites to help the children with leprosis came from her very personal desire to make the world a little bit better.

From the movie “Moon, Sun, Flower, Play” by the German director Claus Strigel one can listen to Foroughs voice, hear how colleagues and friends remember this extraordinary woman and watch scenes from the street-battle preceding the Shahs dismissal and from the childrens leprosis hospital.

I would be curious to hear what you think. Buble is only a bit elder than you, so no excuse to say that his music is from another generation.

Many times Tolstojs novel “Anna Karenina” was brought on the cinema screens, by not so famous film directors, but with actresses who after playing the leading character became movie stars (or were movie stars before already). Sophie Marceau, Jacqueline Bisset, Vivien Leigh and of course Greta Garbo. And now, we have the pleasure to enjoy a more modern Anna Karenina, using state-of-the-art 21st century cinematografic techniques. One of the most intriguing moments in the 1935 movie with Greta Garbo shows her arrival by train in Moscow, when she arises through a steam-cloud and leaves Wronski, who came to the train station only to meet his mother, breathless.

Before I consider to see the new movie (staring Keira Knightly as Anna and Jude Law as Mr. Karenin and Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Wronski), I first want to see how the train station scene has been set up. If this scene is weak, or a disappointment as compared to Greta Garbos one, I wont see the entire movie.

Dear Michael, you wrote some articles here at your blog and at Iranian.com about the modern Iranian cinematography. I’d like to add a movie by the young Iranian filmmaker Maryam Kesharvarz onto your list , called “Circumstances” (“Sharayet” in its persian original).

I saw it recently with friends who got it on DVD, since it is not yet shown in the movie-theaters in Sweden. The movie is about two girls who go to University and are like sisters in mind. The parents of Shirin, the more quiet of the two, were obviously killed by the regime for participating in political opposition. The family of Atafeh, however, is very well situated and rich, although not conformist. A brother of Atafeh, in the past supposed to start a career as musician, returns from a long absence and makes a completely brain-washed impression. Still loved by his mother and dad, he is depressed and drug addicted and finally only sees a way out his mental problems by devoting his life to Allah and becoming a servant of the regime.
The main person of the movie, however, are the two girls Shirin and Atafeh, who are both full of dreams of a career as singers, in a liberal and free society. This clashes with both the opressive political regime in Iran, with the dogmatic situation at the college, but brings them also in conflict with Atafehs well positioned family. In one scene of the movie, during a family celebration where usually everybody contributes a song on the piano, Atafehs brother insist that the girls should not perform any more, since he considers this as anti-islamic. Trying to avoid any conflict, her family declines to the brothers hypocrism and recommends their daughter to stay silent.
Atafeh and Shirin look for freedom of thoughts and more wild experiences by joining the Tehran party scene. When one of these illegal parties is raided by the regimes Basidj thugs, they both get arrested. Whereas Atafehs parents manage to bribe some of the police officers to get their daughter out, Shirin is kept for longer in custody and she is mentally tortured there. Atafehs depressive brother suddenly appears to work for the police. When he finds Shirin he offers her to work for her release, but only if she agrees to marry her.
Throughout the entire film, however, it is obvious that Shirin and Atafeh are more than just friends, they are connected by a deep, mutual love. This love between the two girls is the source of all their strength, of their endless confidence that a better and free life will come and they will start a great music career together somewhere abroad.
The film finishes undecided, without happy end. At one moment, Shirin declines to the possessory claims by her husband, Shirins brother. But it is clear that she is only suffering here.
The unconditional love between the two girls serves as the big contrast to a society which is driven by anxiety, lies and hate. When Shirin and Atafeh are together, their honesty and love is like a glance into a better future of the country.

And this is what I red in the UK newspaper Guardian about this marvellous movie:

“Circumstance’s strength is in the exuberance of Atafeh and Shireen, filled with adolescent fantasies of escape (and cringeworthy lad’s mag-style fantasies of each other: all matching underwear and high heels) and their rebellious rush to dance, drink and break rules. At times the sensuous hair-flicking and the way the camera lingers on their beauty feels overdone and their interest in liberalism seems to extend only to their right to party.
But the film frames their insistence on following their desires, whatever the consequences, as a powerful form of dissent; Atafeh tells a friend: “Here anything illegal becomes politically subversive.”
Set immediately before the protests of the Green movement swept through Iran, the film aims to show where the anger behind the demonstrations came from. “In Iran where the state controls your behaviour … they want you to dress a certain way, and not speak to people of the opposite sex in the street – of course the personal is political,” explains Keshavarz, “in a more explicit way than anywhere else.”“