IFFR 2021 - Mitra
IFFRMitra, the latest feature from director Kaweh Modiri, is a simple story of revenge. Such a primitive narrative concept can go down many different avenues. There is the clear opportunity to propose emotional or sympathetic characters, who work in that morally grey area of righteous, reactionary vengeance. Mitra does so; it ends up walking through memory lane which, for Haleh (Jasmin Tabatabai) is wrought with guilt and grief for the daughter she lost too soon. Such narratives rely on the interest of its characters, the many vices or verdicts they represent, and how Modiri represents his leading characters is just as important as how the performers convey them. This challenge is met well. Mitra takes on the challenge of capturing an array of emotions head on and comes out looking rather strong.
Grief and redemption go hand in hand for Haleh, whose daughter was executed when a traitor gave her away. Finding herself face to face with this potential traitor thirty years after the raw and brutal grief has faded, Mitra is a microscopic understanding of conflict in families. There is clear love and respect there between Haleh and her daughter which flashbacks show rather well. The conflict found between this mother and daughter is the usual collation of rebellious youths, but with Mitra, it has severe and tragic consequences. Modiri’s direction brings the ruptured divides of the East, the oppression of opposition and the deaths that followed those brave enough to follow through with their ideals, refusing the fear of persecution.
Such a theme is captured well. Modiri’s collection of long-term family conflict and the event that sparked it all is engaging and well performed. Tabatabai is exceptional in her leading role, one that doesn’t quite come to grips with the grief expected from such a heavy narrative but focuses instead on the chemistry and charisma of those around her. Mohsen Namjoo provides much of the necessary ballast, a brother to Haleh, but one that shares vaguely differing opinions on what is right and wrong. Mitra understands where its strengths lie and evokes strong emotions from its leading pair. These sentimental charms do not trickle down into any other parts of the narrative; Modiri is unable to transfer these touching moments to the past. It is in his and the characters’ reflection of events that Mitra starts to shine.
While it may not have the most consistent pacing or narrative, there is enough within Mitra thematically to make for a thoroughly rewarding experience. Tragedy and vengeance do not gel as well as they should here, and with a handful of scenes falling short of the quality expected of them, Mitra loses its balance once in a while. Nothing can topple Modiri’s work, though. It is of the high quality expected from a piece that wishes to analyse and discuss history that still has an impact on the modern spectrum of events, however vague his prose may be.