Locarno Film Festival 2023 | Critical Zone

We often wonder about the role of cinema, the power of art. And how much we’re willing to sacrifice ourselves in order to leave a piece of us for posterity. A piece of today’s world, in its beauties and in its wounds, in its moments of most majestic grandeur as in its most terrific ugliness, in its joy as in its injustice. But there are some filmmakers for whom the question is more pressing because the stakes are higher. The stake is their own freedom. This is the case of Ali Ahmadzadev, who cannot be present at the 76th edition of Locarno Film Festival, where his film competes in the main category. Critical Zone (Mantagheye Bohrani) is a breathtaking movie.

It is the tale of the lonely night of Amir, who – accompanied by the voice of his GPS that comes across almost like some electronic Angel – roams around the suburbs of Tehran. Much like Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. Except that Amir is a young drug dealer whose only companion is a dog and the memory of a woman he cannot get out of his heart.

Unlike Travis Bickle, he is not a vigilante but more of a prophet. A saviour who encounters different characters in the arc of his night journey from one day’s dawn to the next. A dark universe marked by a sense of hopelessness and at the same time a burning desire for freedom. A rage for life, in uprising Tehran.

Critical Zone was in fact shot in 2021, a time before Mahsa Amini. But a time when the ferment of what was to come could already be perceived.

There is one specific scene that in a way concentrates all of this: when Amir meets the hostess. Once she’s in the car she lets down her hair and loosens her airline uniform. She can finally be herself. And she screams. She screams with all the strength in her throat, while her head pokes outside of the car. She screams without shame and without fear. It’s not only the drugs but more the excitement of her cry for freedom that gives her this power.

In a shrill, intense, true, barrier-free voice, that’s what she says, a countless number of times: Fuck you.

Ahmadzadeh makes masterful direction choices.

His camera is often steady, almost documentary-like. But at the same time, it can be playful, unpredictable.  Sometimes the style is almost aseptic, but actually filled with the intensity of the non-professional actor protagonist. Sometimes it’s deeply poetic and livened up with real involvement, creating the ambience of a disillusioned romanticism or mirroring the state of mind of the characters. Like during Amir’s narcotic trip, shown with increased speed.

As toward the finale, when the man goes back home, to his final destination, he traces the city backwards as if sucked into its tunnels like in an inescapable vortex. In a Tehran that feels like a trap, in the Iran he has never left, and that he loves so deeply.

A claustrophobic sensation that shares some resemblances with the situation of the director nowadays.

Just as his opera, the presence of Ali Ahmadzadeh was much awaited. Journalists were already trying to fix interviews, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Too smoothly.

In fact, since the press release of the festival came out on July 5th, Ali has been under the investigation of the ministry of security of Iran.

The film was shot before the “Woman, Life, Freedom revolution”, without the permission of the authorities. Being an artistic reflection on the anger and rage of the young Iranians, it’s obviously too dangerous for them. Hence the “request” to pull it out from Locarno.

The director is currently under constant and inhuman pressure. He has to reply to the questions of the investigators via SMS day and night, otherwise he will be considered missing.

His situation has been described by the producer of the film Sina Ataeian Dena. Before the start of the festival, he participated in a round table organized for Locarno via zoom with different journalists from different parts of the world.

Just like Ali, even Sina is receiving horrible threatening emails from unknown sources, some of which describing in detail how he would be sexually harassed. It’s a real psychological torture, made even worse by the unacceptable denial of Ali’s visa.

The director of Critical Zone wanted to be in Locarno for the premiere, but the Swiss Embassy wasn’t able to release a visa for him, as the German Embassy in Istanbul had put a flag on his name last summer.

In fact, Ali had been invited in Berlin to the NIPKOW Residency, connected to the Berlinale and supportive of artists in dangers. He had applied for a visa at the German Embassy in Istanbul but he was rejected, and since then, a flag has been put on his name. This was recently found out.

The reason? Ali has been labelled as an “immigration risk”, when actually he never intended to stay in Germany, nor in Europe. And even now, he only wanted to come to Switzerland for the festival, and then go back to Iran. But Germany was the only country which could pull out the flag and enable a smooth visa application process for Ali. But they turned their back to his situation.

The sad surreality of all of this is perfectly described by Sina, as he says: “I have the feeling that Iranian people have lost their hope in western politics. But the people that are fighting in Iran share the same values of western societies… So I’m really disappointed and disillusioned of how much we fight for the same things and share the same values and how little support is given to people like Ali”.

German authorities are in fact theoretically supportive of the Iranian uprising, but in practice they’re really not. And this injustice is all the way more glaring when we consider that there are cases of human rights violators signalled by Amnesty who could get a visa to go to Germany to get treatments – as Sina points out. “Their kids are partying in Berlin using the money that their father stole from people”, while artists, who fight for good, are literally abandoned to themselves.

As a German citizen, Sina could be present in Locarno. We still don’t know what the future of Critical Zonewill be, just like we don’t know about the future of its director, and his safety. His painful absence in Locarno is much felt. But through the presence of Sina Ataeian Dena and mostly through the power of his images, Ali can be present nonetheless, and his voice can be heard.

Yes, this is the power of cinema. And in times like nowadays, this should be its main role. To be brave, and to be free.

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