Tag Archives: Writer: Molly McLachlan

Women Without Men: A Surreal Journey Through History

Movie Review: "Women Without Men"

In her 2009 film Women Without Men, Shirin Neshat tells the female story during the 1953 coup d’etat in Iran. The film, an adaptation of Shahrnush Parsipur’s 1990 novella, distills the political situation into a compelling story about a group of women whose parallel experiences lead them to the same location despite differences in class and lifestyle. We are first introduced to Munis (Shabnam Tolouei), a radiophile who is disinterested in the marriage prospects her brother, Amir Khan, is forcing onto her. Munis becomes the film’s primary magical-realist thread, acting as omnipresent narrator. With her vague commentary, she helps to generalize the themes for viewers: “Through all this noise, there was almost silence…the sense that everything repeats itself over time.” Shortly thereafter, we meet Munis’s friend Faezeh (Pegah Ferydoni), who comes to visit when Amir Khan is away. It becomes clear that Faezeh has a crush on Amir Khan, who is engaged to someone else. Afterwards, the scene shifts sharply to meet Zarin (Orsi Toth), a solemn prostitute, who flees from her brothel after seeing a customer with no face – another dip into the surreal. The camera switches to a military ceremony where we meet Fakhri (Arita Shahrzad), the oldest and wealthiest of the four women. She gets into a fight with her husband, the honoree, and leaves him rather unceremoniously. 

Save for Munis and Faezeh’s friendship, the women are apparently separate in the first segment of the film. They are each, however, in the midst of a conflict or change caused by a man in their life; and each solves the problem in the same way, by making her way to an orchard outside of Tehran. Once there, they develop bonds, facilitated by the wealthy Fakhri, who buys the orchard’s estate and acts as a caregiver to ailing Zarin, as well as to Faezeh after she is assaulted in Tehran. Unlike the others, Munis stays in the city; in her ghostly form, she is percieved only by a Communist Party member whom she befriends, and as such is finally able to get involved with political activity.

The women’s journeys to the orchard are important to Neshat; rather than skipping to the arrival of each woman, she includes long shots of each woman’s journey down the road. The shots of the dirt road from Tehran to the orchard illustrate the class differences among the women. Zarin makes her way to the orchard on foot, slowly, gaunt from hunger and scarred from scrubbing herself raw at the public bath. Following a channel through a gap in the wall, she enters clandestinely, lest the property manager catch her and kick her out. Fakhri’s first trip to the orchard, meanwhile, provides an overt contrast to Zarin’s. She travels down the dirt road chauffeured in a luxury car, and enters through the front gate where she is greeted warmly by the property manager. Both women make their way to the orchard because the men of Tehran are making their lives hard, whereas Fakhri’s wealth certainly makes the journey more comfortable. Munis and Faezeh are socioeconomically in between the other women; Munis accompanies Faezeh as she travels to the orchard on foot, but instructs her that she can just “Knock on the door and go inside,” unlike Zarin. Through these parallel shots, Neshat does a good job of underscoring the intersection between gender and socioeconomic status, a theme that reverberates for her 2009 audience. 

Women Without Men was a project spanning over half a decade, beginning as a series of videos exploring each of the women featured in the original 1990 novella by Shahrnush Parsipur. In an interview with Art In America, Neshat describes the challenges of adapting the novella to film: “I couldn’t have picked a more difficult book….Even before I started, my advisors told me to be careful.” An experienced photographer, Neshat responded to the challenge through color theory. In Tehran, the visuals are so muted that some scenes appear almost black-and-white. The shots in the orchard, though, are much brighter, featuring the vivid greens and jewel tones of the surrounding nature. suggestive of the happiness and safety the women experience in the orchard. The orchard plays a restorative role for the women; we see Zarin smile for the first time there, whereas Fakhri gets to take control of her own estate. Faezeh is somewhere in between; she heals from her assault in Tehran, and is involved in planning a party with Fakhri, choosing brightly colored dresses to wear. Zarin remains mainly bedridden, never changing from her white dress; perhaps her condition is unsalveageable despite the healing properties of the orchard. 

A fifth woman, Mahdokht, is cut from the original novel because of the difficulty of adaptation. In the same interview, Neshat detailed Mahdokht as “a woman who plants herself as a tree since she is terrified of sexual intercourse but obsessed with fertility. She dreams of producing fruits and seeds that can be disseminated around the globe.” Instead, Neshat gives a bigger role to the orchard’s male gardener, who directly or indirectly brings each of them to the estate; she prioritizes the symbolism of the journey and a clear portrayal of intersectionality.

With Women Without Men, Shirin Neshat succeeds in creating a film whose themes transcend the bounds of history and borders; universal themes come across for viewers uninitiated in Iranian history or culture. Haunting imagery and moments of magical realism pull the film it away from simple historical fiction. Even for viewers who have read the novel, for the visuals of the orchard alone, the film is well worth its 99 minutes.

Economic Sacrifice is an American Staple

Letter to the Editor

Response to this:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2020/03/19/americans-must-relearn-sacrifice-time-coronavirus/

Joseph Stieb tells us that more than post-truth politics or lack of paid leave, our roadblock to an effective pandemic response is that Americans identify as consumers more than citizens. Stieb provides examples like Reagan’s “less is not enough” policy and our all-volunteer military to illustrate the extent to which Americans have not been asked to sacrifice involuntarily in recent history.

In the face of the global pandemic, Stieb argues, Americans need to relearn how to sacrifice. Commenter boudica responds: “You don’t seem to understand that at least half of us have not recovered from the crash of ‘07… People scrim [sic] and scrape to pay rent, grocery bills, utility bills, car payments and repairs and education..You are one of the well-off lecturing the rest of us who are struggling about “sacrificing.’” Harsh, but boudica has a point.

Consumerism is a contributing factor to the U.S.’s pandemic response, but Stieb needs to take into account another factor: Americans who have nothing to sacrifice because the system of capitalistic consumption itself has pushed them to the ragged edge of survival. Stieb is correct in the sense that the U.S. isn’t used to involuntary sacrifice; but it is the wealthiest Americans who are least used to it. Sure, we have an all-volunteer military, but the prohibitive cost of college makes the G.I. Bill the only realistic way for many low-income Americans to get an education. Bush encouraged Americans to revive the airlines after 9/11 by taking vacations.; that could only apply to consumers who had been on paid leave and had the pocket money to do so. Americans in poverty understand sacrifice. The responsibility of cultural reform falls to the wealthy.

Yuki Matsuri

Feature Report

Every year at Wellesley, most cultural organizations offer the student body a window into the culture in the form of a massive, showstopping event open to the entire college. These events participate in a time-honored tradition of using coveted non-dining hall food as an attendance hook for the college crowd. They provide a celebratory backdrop for a window into cultures shared by the community. 

 Yuki Matsuri, Wellesley Japan Club’s yearly cultural show, started at 5 on a chilly Saturday evening in February. Planning to meet friends at the event in Tishman Commons, I arrived right on time — or on Wellesley time, 15 minutes late. My timing was underscored by the fact that the line for food already stretched out of the room, down the hall, up the stairs, and onto the main floor of the campus center. I got through a half-hour-long podcast episode by the time I reached the entrance to Tishman. After flashing my student ID, I picked up a paper plate and made my way down the line of student volunteers dishing out a variety of Japanese specialties in the smaller side room. Balancing a full plate with a cup of green tea, I finally caught up with my friend Sarah as we walked into the large performance area. There was a stage in front, more food and activity booths against the wall in the back, and floor seating/standing room in between. We ate our carefully rationed agedashi tofu and sweet potato maki in the dark as we watched student performers spin colorfully lit yoyo-like objects to Japanese pop music.

As the house lights came up, a kabuki performer began her dance and we moved across the crowded room to check out the rightmost food stations. We ate beautifully plated takoyaki and a rice cake with red-bean filling as we watched the performer don three very expressive masks as she acted in the roles of three different characters. One booth featured a box with gift bags dangling inside and a sign that read “Thousand Strings.” The two people ahead of me in line each pulled a random string, which released a bag filled with goodies. One student collected a small cookie, and Sarah received cute stickers. Curious what my turn might bring, I carefully selected my string. I was presented with a piece of paper that read “Watch out – bad luck may befall you.” I wasn’t surprised – Yuki Matsuri joined a long list of Wellesley events, from raffles to bingo, at which I was consistently luckless. I grabbed another red-bean cake and sat down with Sarah in anticipation of the next performance.

Aiko, the college’s beloved Taiko drumming group, performed next. The steady yet lively beats reverberated in my chest.  You might expect a group that constantly needs to be in perfect sync to be somewhat solemn – but every performer wore a confident grin as they drummed and chanted. I think this is the secret to why the student body loves Aiko so universally – they look like they are having so much goddamn fun onstage, and that energy is infectious. Sarah leaned over and told me “I have a crush on every single person on stage right now.” I laughed, knowing she spoke for every attendee.

I recognized the faces of many members of student organizations who performed, like my friend who led Shotokan Karate in a demonstration. Each audience member cheered for the friends we came to support. The room constantly held a few simultaneous layers of noise, whether from the performers, audience, or shaved-ice machine. I didn’t recognize one performer, however, who brought the room to silence. Older than a student, she came alone, save for a man who seemed like an assistant, or possibly coach. She wore a stark white gi top with flowing black hakama pants, and carried an archery bow that was easily taller than herself. The man asked people in the direction she would shoot to move; for a split second, I wondered if this is when my forecasted bad luck would befall me. With the audience rendered motionless, she meticulously approached her position, arranged her posture, notched each arrow, aimed at the target, drew her bow, and fired. Each step in this process was deliberate and memorized, and she shot twice. Her sober bow acted as a foil to the audience’s eruption of applause. I overheard another student’s commentary on the performance: “If she killed me, it would be an honor.”

Yuki Matsuri provides windows into a large variety of aspects of Japanese culture, from the lively to the solemn. Many cultural organizations at Wellesley host flagship events like this, open to the student body free of charge. A bite of non-Wellesley fresh food may be the hook, but these shows are a meaningful part of the college’s experience. They offer some Wellesley students a chance to celebrate their culture, while others get to learn about a culture shared by many of their sibs.