I come from there and I have memories. My home is where my memory is. I have only one homeland: my homeland is the place where I am now.
~Mahmoud Darwish
The Middle East Film Festival
I'm going to have a go here at talking about some of the Iranian films that I've watched over the last month or two, which are fewer in number than I would have liked. Because I'm rushing into writing this post, somehow driven into it by the madness of war, I can't say that I'm reaching here for a thematic arc, in the same way as I did for instance in my last post. I'm just writing out of urgent need to say something.
Given the title of the film, it's a funny (happy or otherwise, not sure!) coincidence, that I'm writing this post on November 5th 2025, a date familiar enough to readers in the United Kingdom. Many Britons now seem to have no idea any more of the history, mind, and it's a date which needs a quick search on Wikipedia for most of those not native to these islands. There was zero intention of the two things would overlap. The only reason for writing now is a conversation about this film which took place only two days ago.
Iranian cinema is one of the most remarkable phenomena in the Modern World. I'm in danger here of making this blog into something which it definitely is not trying to be, but let's pretend for a few minutes that this is a film blog...... If we're going to go there, it's a given that Iranian cinema was deeply influenced by Italian neorealism in the 1960s, and then something strange happened. While the rest of the world moved on and tried out new cinematic fads and trends, this intentionally naive realistic style became the living breathing identity of Iranian cinema...
Ziad Doueiri's 1998 film 'West Beirut' was quite the epiphany for me. Having for many years mentally pictured Beirut as a giant urban mantrap, with perfectly good reason given all the news that we were fed about the place throughout the 1980s, it was virtually impossible to visualise the lives of ordinary Lebanese people in the midst of the madness that engulfed them for fifteen years.
This film is set in Haifa, Israel's third city, which has always been thought of as one of the more normal places in Israel, as far as "normal" goes anyway in that country. It's more mixed and more secular than either the Greater Tel Aviv area (taken as a whole) or Jerusalem. Buses mostly run on Saturdays, and the admittedly not so large Arab minority lives relatively harmoniously next to the Jewish majority.
I don't know who I heard this from, or even whether I heard it at all from someone's mouth, but the saying goes that all roads to understanding the Middle East pass through Lebanon. It's just a throwaway cliché, but there's probably a lot in it. Younger readers won't remember the 1975-1990 Lebanese Civil War, which was a defining world conflict for anyone with a developing political consciousness in the 1980s. That's me, then.