LFF 2020: 180° Rule
lff 2020In filmmaking, the 180° rule is a convention describing how a scene should be shot. It assumes the existence of an invisible line connecting the actors being filmed and stretching into infinity in both directions, thus effectively dividing the world in half. The camera must not cross this line, which gives the scene a sense of geographical grounding because – irrespective of the coverage, the number of cameras employed or editing choices – some actors will always remain on the left-hand side of the frame, while others will be found on the right. In short, when the rule is obeyed, everyone knows their place and the audience can easily find their bearings in any scene.
In her aptly titled feature debut, 180° Rule, Farnoush Samadi examines whether this principle holds water outside the microcosm of filmmaking theory, in real life. She weaves a story about Sara (Sadaf Dolatshahi), a teacher who disobeys her husband’s (Pejman Jamshidi) wishes and, while he is away for work, takes their little daughter on a long trip to attend a family wedding. Unfortunately, an incredibly tragic accident turns what could have been a little secret escapade into a nightmare that brings Sara’s world crumbling down and – crucially – exposes the asymmetrical power dynamic between men and women in the Iranian society for the viewer to ruminate over.
Quite frankly, this is where any discussion about Samadi’s film should really begin because, as much as it gives its leading woman ample room to spread her wings and shine before dragging her character through the coals in a degrading ritual of purification by pain, 180° Rule ought to be seen as a parable. In fact, it probably owes more in terms of inspiration and thematic symmetry to Andrey Zvyagintsev (Leviathan, Loveless) and Haifaa al-Mansour (Wadjda, The Perfect Candidate) rather than to Asghar Farhadi, whose Oscar-winning A Separation it might be most easily compared to. This is because, despite dealing with themes of crumbling relationships and filtering them through the lens of Iranian culture rooted heavily in conservative Islamic tradition, Samadi is casting her net much wider. She is using this narrative as a template for other women to connect with based on their own personal experiences of oppression and impotent struggle. This isn’t a film about a single woman and her doomed revolt against a domineering husband, but rather a general acknowledgment that life as Samadi sees and knows it is simply unfair to women in general.
This is where the titular 180° rule comes into play. Translated into real life as presented in the film, it sets out clear boundaries for men and women to operate in, as well as it imparts a perspective they need to assume when interacting with one another. And, incidentally, men are positioned above women across the spectrum of these interactions. The filmmaker reminds the audience of this imbalance at every opportunity. It is alright for a husband to ignore his wife’s wishes, but not the other way around. It is accepted to beat a woman in public. It is OK to impregnate a teenage girl and leave her alone to figure out what to do with her life, too. This is status quo. But when a woman breaks the 180° rule, chaos of biblical proportions ensues immediately.
It is impossible to overlook that Samadi’s film is quite heavy-handed in the way it explores its admittedly sombre thematic topography. However, some circumstances lend themselves to excuse a modicum of ham-fistedness, especially when the storyteller in question is resorting to such blunt narrative tools as a result of being driven by nothing short of righteous anger. It is undeniable: 180° Rule is a fruit of sheer frustration and unchecked fury at the systemic asymmetry of power so many women have to endure.
Interestingly though, Samadi’s film evades labelling as politically-charged misery porn on the basis of its craftsmanship and the fact it succeeds not only in conveying her own emotional turmoil through this immensely dense and nuanced story, but predominantly because her film manipulates the audience as well. 180° Rule sends the viewer down a spiral of their own anger and frustration, as they too have to grapple with the actions taken by the characters in the story, choose sides and then stew in a pot of their own frustrations.
Granted, this isn’t a film for everyone. It’s dense and difficult to process, though its heavy-handedness is not rooted in self-indulgent condescension but in genuine raw frustration. While it isn’t perfect and maybe bites more than it can chew, 180° Rule adds an essential note to the ever-growing melody of cultural dissent woven into modern feminist cinema. If this is her opening right hook, there is a championship belt in Farnoosh Samadi’s future. A remarkable debut.
