There is controversy surrounding “Crimson Gold,” and that, more than anything, has generated critical acclaim and curiosity. Based on a true story, it was banned in Iran for its criticism of Iranian society. This criticism is not the focus of the film, nor is the crime that occurs. At the heart of this slow-moving character study is one man and the marginalized masses he represents.
In Farsi with English subtitles, “Crimson Gold” begins with a well worn plot-a masked gunmann botches a robber, kills a jeweler, and, finally ends his own life. The film traces the events leading up to the crime.
The robber, a soon-to-be-married pizza delivery man named Hussein (portrayed by actual pizza deliveryman Hussein Emadeddin) embodies the complaints of a disenchanted and jaded generation of Iranians.
A monstrous figure with the voice of a bear, Hussein suffers from a medical condition that we infer to be a consequence of his wartime service. As a result, his movements are slow and lumbering, his words sparse, and his stare vacant but not entirely empty. His boredom with life drives the film’s languid pace.
He is a member of Iran’s “Lost Generation,” painfully aware of his inability to change his lot in life and sedated enough to barely muddle through it day to day.
On each delivery run, Hussein observes the trappings of the privileged life through partially open doorways. Invited into a young Iranian man’s apartment, Hussein wanders through the man’s labyrinthine, multilevel apartment. The sheer wealth of the palace bewilders Hussein. He acts like a child in an amusement park, drunk on the sights and sounds. He finds a pool and takes a dip fully dressed.
A visit to an uptown jewelry store with his fianc?e Azita (Azita Rayeji) finally sets off Hussein’s rage. Dressed in his finest suit, he is determined to buy Azita a proper wedding gift. However, he is met with condescension by the owner of the store, who blatantly ignores them before suggesting they try the bazaars downtown. Hussein absorbs this slight solemnly.
In another scene, Hussein finds armed soldiers barring entry into an apartment building where he must deliver pizzas. Waiting across the street, Hussein watches as soldiers arrest people leaving a party on the second floor.
Hussein stands beside a 15-year-old soldier and asks him, “Do you know what’s going on up there?” As he watches the silhouettes from the window above, the armed child is clueless, saying, “It looks like they’re dancing.”
Hussein recalls a youth full of dancing and revelry that the child cannot grasp. The child represents a repressed generation who has not known much joy, constantly living in fear of the state, forced to grow up and to accept responsibilities it can barely comprehend.
Hussein sees the tragedy in both their lives, and reacts with a sullen generosity, offering the soldiers the pizzas he would have delivered.
Until his tragic end, this is the Hussein the film characterizes, a man of enormous size who seems to be filled only with patience and compassion. His martyrdom is foreshadowed by an old wartime acquaintance who remarks, “I thought you’d died and gone to Heaven.”
We must conclude that a harsh and unforgiving society ultimately drives Hussein to vengeance. Yet Iranian society is not the only one under attack in “Crimson Gold.” The story of the have and the have nots will be familiar to Americans and to everyone where class division persists.
Crimson Gold is playing at Visions Cinema, located at 1927 Florida Ave. N.W. Visit http://www.visionsdc.com for a list of showtimes.
