This short film is a Franco-Iranian co-production that once again highlights one of the growing problems faced by most festivals: hosting films with content but lacking substance.
It may seem paradoxical, yet it is becoming increasingly common.
There seems to be a new belief that simply addressing a specific topic – when it is politically charged or socially relevant – is enough to make a movie. One which can contribute not only to cinema itself, but to the very core of the problem. But this perspective may be misguided.
Needless to say, it is obviously crucial to address socio-political issues, and it is the duty of filmmakers to also unflaggingly fight against injustices, open people’s eyes, speak out, influence, as they have the power to really help to change the world. This is not a merely romantic quest or a remote hope, it is the plain truth.
However, one must not forget the medium.
Cinema is not a newspaper article, a political pamphlet, or a reflection on social media. Cinema is art, and as such, it must convey something more than mere information.
The theme alone will not suffice to make an effective work, if it is not elevated into a discourse, which can be desperate or hopeful, unresolved or conclusive, absolute or contextual, but it must be a discourse. An artistic gesture.
Otherwise, it is not a creation but only a sterile list of imaginary or imagined events, describing reality or parallels to it.
This is the major flaw at the heart of There is no Friends House, a film that, despite recounting an urgent need, is not truly urgent.
This urgency that should have been dealt with in a much more profound way in this film lies in the tragedy of modern-day Iran, where freedom of thought, of speech, and of action seems utopian.
The story revolves around two girlfriends who experience the same emotions and desires for freedom and exploration (manifested when they secretly drink alcohol at school or give each other a kiss), albeit in different familial contexts. One friend’s father represents the authoritarian and violent power, while the other’s father embodies free expression.
In a somewhat unengaging manner, the narrative plot revolves around a dilemma that effectively places two conflicting values in opposition: courage or timidity. However, the latter is never met with judgment by the audience, but rather as yet another example of how the bullying inherent to power abuse inevitably corrupts us with its sole weapon: fear. A fear which can be direct blackmail or even just the promise, or rather certainty, of blackmail itself.
In this story, one friend will have to lie and denounce the other.
The only value of this film does not lie in its direction choices, in its style, its script, or anything, but simply in the fundamental theme it addresses and in giving yet another evidence of a corrupted and sick regime.
However, as it was said before, one shouldn’t forget that images are inseparable from the spirit and energy of an audiovisual work, and they are only valid when the beauty they possess (which in this work is as undeniable as it is banal) is not only supported but also complementary to the discourse.
The icon, in brief, must carry the content, not replace it.
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