A Moment of Innocence (Mohsen Makhmalbaf, 1996)
Iranian filmmaker
Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s A
Moment of Innocence is a spin-off from his earlier project Salaam Cinema.
That film was, in simplest terms, a documentary of a casting session that
turned out to be the work itself, but it was far from simple in execution. Quite
similar in its deceptive effortlessness, A Moment of Innocence is the end
result of an unlikely meeting between Makhmalbaf and Mirhadi Tayebi, a policeman
who the director stabbed twenty years earlier as a protest against the Shah’s
regime. Tayebi, who answered Salaam Cinema’s open casting call, was
seen in that film saying that he wanted to play a heroic figure, despite his
brutish looks. This film restages the meeting and takes flight as the director
and actor decide to recast and recreate the attack that effectively ended
Tayebi’s police career and landed Makhmalbaf in prison.
Unlike Salaam Cinema, which was a
documentary (albeit one with the deck stacked against its subjects), Moment is
a fictional film, although the cast is playing themselves (except when they are
cast in the film within the film). As such, the staging of many of the scenes
becomes inherently distracting. Whenever the actors are pretending not to notice
the camera, we’re made all too aware of it, since the movie’s self-reflexive
nature heightens the artificiality of the situation, but doesn’t seem to
encompass the fact that much of the action is scripted. Where Salaam
consistently demonstrated the way that the unscripted complexities of real
people could best almost any fabricated drama, in Moment Makhmalbaf tries
to make a scripted statement about the nature of movies, memory and regret.
Though he profoundly addresses these and other themes such as the generation gap
and the effectiveness of political violence, he doesn’t skirt between the
realms of fact and fiction quite as effectively as he managed to in Salaam
Cinema.
Still, there are moments here that are
phenomenal. For example, Mirhadi Tayebi’s realization that he’s wasted
twenty years of regret over a girl he never pursued comes as a shock, even
though the audience has been aware of her role in the attack. The final action,
too, forces a reinterpretation on lamentable events, as the director aligns his
own past with that of his succeeding generation and their shared country. There
exists a thread in the film that examines how the various participants in its
creation realize the extent to which film matters. Its very concept is a
restaging of an event that’s been etched in the past, but both director and
actor (i.e. assailant and victim) recognize that cinema has the ability to
absolve a past wrong simply by portraying it. The young actors, too, recognize
the importance of the film, and even though they are merely actors playing a
part, the recognize the moral weight involved in that process. Perhaps it’s
only an echo of the masterpiece that was its predecessor, lacking the suspense
and immediacy of that film’s documentary style, but even though Makhmalbaf’s
own screen time is surprisingly brief, there’s no denying that A Moment of
Innocence is the very definition of personal filmmaking, completely
unimpeded by, though not unaware of, the traditional definitions of what
constitutes a film.
74
08.01.05
Jeremy
Heilman