Chicken With Plums

In Chicken With Plums (2011), Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Parronaud attempt to render the unique aesthetic of Persepolis (2007) into live action. They've certainly crafted an aesthetic feast that's imaginatively shot. Too bad the overall experience underwhelms.

In 1958, Iranian violinist Nassir (Mathieu Amalric) commits suicide. Nassir grew despondent after his long-suffering wife Faranguisse (Marie de Madeiros) destroyed his prized violin. Flashbacks of the lead-in to Nassir's death reveal why: the violin was connected with Irane (Golshifteh Farahani), Nassir's lost love. Unable to marry Irane, Nassir entered into an unhappy marriage, channeling his passion into music. Without music - or Irane - in his life, things no longer seem worthwhile.

Chicken With Plums wins praise for its ravishing visuals. Satrapi, Parronaud and cinematographer Christophe Beaucalme craft a fantasy aesthetic resembling Powell and Pressburger or, more appropriately, Jean-Pierre Jeunet. The movie's dreamlike cadence registers in verdantly colored skies, moody deep focus and double exposure. Certainly the movie doesn't lack for powerful visuals, as when Nassir sends off his mother's (Isabella Rosselini) departing soul with a violin solo. There's even a brief animated interlude explicitly recalling the directors' earlier collaboration.

Yet Chicken never really comes together. Satrapi and Parronaud conceive the story an episodic thought piece, counting down Nassir's last week on Earth. But the execution is terribly clunky. The film flits aimlessly between past and future, tone and style veering sharply from moment to moment. Filmmakers, of course, can get away with self-contained episodes in lieu of plot. But Satrapi handles it so poorly that the artifice shows; it's a collection of scenes, not a movie.

It doesn't help that Chicken feels forced. The visuals are clever but the movie slides uneasily between realistic drama and fantasy. The cutesy tone becomes unbearable at times, especially the scenes with Nassir's children or, especially, a prolonged parody of American sitcoms. Nassir and Irane's romance registers strongly, but introduced so late it throws things off-balance. Lacking what made Persepolis so effective - skillful balance of whimsy and pathos, insightful characterization - it becomes incoherent and emotionally barren.

Mathieu Amalric (Munich) makes Nassir a compelling protagonist, tormented and hanging on to shattered dreams. Golshifteh Farahani mainly looks pretty and pouty, but Maria de Madeiros (Pulp Fiction) does remarkable work showing Faranguisse's deep-seeded frustration. Eduoard Baer and Jamel Debbouze play their scenes as crude pantomime.

Chicken With Plums ultimately disappoints. For all its visual appeal, it resembles nothing so much as a poor man's Amelie, overselling self-aware silliness at the expense of genuine charm.

Persepolis

Having recently fallen in love with Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis books, it was only natural that I should check out the Oscar-nominated film adaptation. Fortunately, Persepolis (2007) keeps Satrapi's work intact: her autobiographical tale of a child's life in Revolutionary Iran, and adolescence abroad, rings true through a perfect mixture of humor, pathos and personal tragedy.

Iran, 1979. Marjane "Marji" Satrapi (Gabrielle Lopes, Chiara Mastroianni) is a precocious child wrapped up in fantasy and materialism. Her parents (Catherine Denevue and Simon Abkarian) protest the Shah's regime, which collapses after the Shah flees. However, Marjane and her family find the Ayatollah Khomeini's new Islamic regime even worse, with alcohol outlawed, women forced to don veils, and a destructive war with Iraq making life unbearable. Teenaged Marjane is sent to live in Vienna, where she flits around the edges of counter-culture, struggles with romance and education, is stereotyped as a terrorist, and ends up homeless and destitute. She comes home to Iran, only to find herself a stranger even in her home country.

Persepolis is an excellent mixture of honesty and humanism, conveyed through its beautifully-realized protagonist. Satrapi is wonderfully forthcoming about herself: she presents episodes where, as a child, she leads an attack on the son of a policeman. Later, she condemns an innocent man to prison so she won't miss a date. Often narcissistic and self-destructive, Marji is no intellectual rebel or quirky heroine with all the answers, just an ordinary adolescent into music, boys and blue jeans, her faults and confusion magnified by the situation. Even transforming herself into a "modern woman" is a limited success: Iran remains repressive, and Marji is stuck in a rotten marriage which enhances her predicament.

We know, of course, that Satrapi went on to be a successful cartoonist and author, but Marji at age 18, penniless in the Vienna streets, would have no way of knowing it. Despite the depressing nature of the material, and its sad conclusion, Persepolis pulsates with joy and life-affirming happiness, with Satrapi's caustic wit and shrewd observations providing plenty of humor. The story's real-life conclusion provides an extra-textual delight.

The movie skims over the story's historical and political background, but this is forgivable. Background about Iran's history and the Shah's rise are presented in amusing vignettes, exactly how a child would digest a difficult history lesson. As in so many revolutions, the ideal revolution is subverted with something far worse: while the Shah arrests and tortures dissidents, the Ayatollah executes them. And for Iranians (and women especially), life becomes unbearable. Satrapi, who lost friends and relatives to both regimes, cannot be called objective, but Persepolis has the ring of truth throughout. Specific incidents and anecdotes are presented with vivid clarity: being harrassed by cops for "indecency," the underground parties and blackmarket music tapes, the disfigurement and death of friends in the war.

Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud keep the comic's visual style intact: the simple, stark black-and-white visual style perfectly enhances the feeling of loss and nostalgia. Despite the story's episodic nature, it has a fast and urgent pace, flowing perfectly. The animation enhances the material with creative uses of montage, perfectly portraying the difficult backstory, and specific sequences - particularly Marji's descent into depression - are made extremely powerful. The voice work is uniformly excellent.

Some minor omissions aside, Persepolis is a fabulous, near-perfect adaptation of the graphic novel, and one of its decade's best animated films.

PS: Happy Father's Day!