No, I’m not going to write about the former ceremonial capitol of the Persian empire that was sacked and destroyed by Alexander the Great. Today’s non-traditional review is all about the Oscar-nominated flick-from-a-graphic-novel of the same name.
Movies adapted from graphic novels are nothing new. In fact, you’ve probably seen a fair few of them in recent years — “V for Vendetta,” “300,” and “Sin City” all sprang to mind the minute I wrote this sentence — but “Persepolis” manages to set itself apart from the rabble. Of course, when I say “rabble” I don’t mean that any of those films were sub-par, but that “Persepolis” is so unique — and downright beautiful — that it’s near impossible to put it in the same category. There’s a reason why this sucker is up for an Oscar, and it’s not just because it’s in French.
To get the obligatory synopsis out of the way: “Persepolis” is a Bildungsroman about a girl (the author of the book, in fact — Marjane Satrapi) coming of age against the backdrop of the Iranian revolution in the late 70s and how her family’s hopes were slowly and deliberately dashed against the harsh Islamic law that took power in the vacuum. Marjane is delightful: full of life and innocence, riotously funny, and downright endearing. As she learns to live under the Ayatollah’s new regime, she also figures out ways to secretly rebel. Sometimes this is with her family, when they attend secret parties and listen to music now outlawed; or by herself, purchasing Iron Maiden cassettes on the black market. The titular reference to the ancient city, once a jewel of the Persian empire, probably refers to the protagonist’s own dreams for a life and future in Iran, stripped and laid bare by invaders.
For such a serious setting, Satrapi’s story is surprisingly heartwarming. Perhaps it’s because she concentrated on her and her family’s own experiences and left the political commentary to other writers. Aside from a few brief history lessons to set the stage for the revolution and the ensuing war with Iraq, “Persepolis” manages to keep the whole “Stupid Western Yankee Pigs” theme from dominating the scant 90ish-minute feature. It’s refreshing to actually learn more about the world at the large without feeling like I have to apologize for the United States. There’s enough of that crap circulating Hollywood already and even recently some of those big-budget apologists hit abysmally low box offic numbers. In fact, the whole concept of “the West” in this story revolves around the colonials’ greed for oil and doesn’t just center around one particular person.
Of course, there’s more to this than just the story (though the story alone was probably enough to get it to the Academy Awards). This film — and there’s no other way to put it — has got style. Right down to the last frame, every bit of animation is smooth and fluid, with scenes artistically melting into transitions which flow like inky black rivers into the next bits of Marjane’s story.
While some would argue that animating a film is the cheap way out, I actually think it’s the most liberating. The biggest downfall of so many live-action adaptations of graphic novels is the “live” element. In order to integrate the actors into the scenery, excessive use of the green screen is required. If not done perfectly, it’s visually distracting — even if the visuals are as compelling as the story itself. “Sin City” brilliantly recreated so many panels of Miller’s work, but at what cost? I remember seeing it opening night and often getting so wrapped up in how cool the movie looked that I often lost track of the stories it was supposed to be telling.
So, Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud, her co-director, opted for the animated route. However, even in black and white, the characters sprang to life, exhibiting more depth and “three-dimensionality” in their 2-D world that many live action films could never hope to achieve. The crew of “Persepolis” knew right off the bat that it’s the story that makes a film, not the spectacle. By concentrating on that first, the looks naturally follow suit and draw the audience in even more. So much so that even certain audience members that usually hate cartoons — like the notoriously hard to please Babba-Gi — find themselves loving the experience.
So, if you haven’t seen “Persepolis” yet, I heartily recommend it — and not just for the copious use of the French word “connard” — which, despite its coarser roots, has been translated to “stupid.” It’s currently playing in various mainstream and art house theaters, so be sure to check it out before it’s gone.
