Silent sisters

>> The Apple is profound and devastating

by MATTHEW HAYS

 Echoing the emotional power of the Italian neo-realist films of the post-war period, The Apple, an amazing directorial debut, evokes an overwhelming sense of watching the Real Thing. The feeling is buttressed by the fact that this Iranian film's amazing story is based on fact.

 The film opens as welfare workers in Tehran intervene in a family's domestic plight. It appears that a rather bizarre 65-year-old man has kept his two 11-year-old daughters locked in their home for their entire lives. His wife, also apparently a bit of a mess, is blind and can't properly care for her daughters. Welfare workers, tipped off by concerned neighbours, are horrified to discover that the two girls have never been bathed, as their disabled mother simply couldn't lead them to the local public baths.

 Director Samira Makhmalbaf, the 17-year-old daughter of celebrated Iranian auteur Mohsen Makhmalbaf (Gabbeh, A Moment of Innocence), takes things one step further than the neo-realists did. While the Italian directors stuck to using non-actors, avoiding the Hollywood star system, Makhmalbaf has managed to convince the four principals (mother, father and two daughters) to appear as themselves in The Apple, effectively striking down the wall between documentary and fiction filmmaking. The father apparently agreed to appear with his family in the film because he felt their story was misrepresented by the Iranian media.

 Makhmalbaf does inject the film with a narrative. The two daughters manage to make their way out of the home and, understandably, are at a loss about how to conduct themselves in the outside world. These baby steps into reality, made at the ripe age of 11, provide some of the film's most heart-wrenching moments. Amazingly, we're never made to feel like the filmmaker is milking us for sentimental response. Rather, The Apple feels full of natural, uncontrived moments.

 Makhmalbaf has managed to capture beautiful details which make the film read like poetry. One of the daughters, after swiping some ice cream from a cooler, shares her cone with a goat. And when a media type attempts to interview one of the daughters about their horrendous ordeal, she, obviously not very media savvy, licks the microphone, for lack of knowing what else to do with it.

 The Apple is a profoundly beautiful film, but I'd be lying if I said it was even remotely feel-good. Steeped in a national culture that is highly restrictive, where filmmakers consistently face harsh censorship, Makhmalbaf has managed to craft a subtle piece of work that astutely reflects the roles of women and children in a contemporary Iran. :

 

The Apple opens Friday, June 9 at Cinéma du Parc