A film like Persepolis, which is set amidst extreme political turmoil, runs the risk of being identified as simply about conditions during the Iranian Revolution. While the spirited protagonist Marjane lives in a country that becomes increasingly veiled, repressive and dangerous, the film appeals to emotions more than politics, and tells an engaging story about a curious young girl who grows up on her own terms.
The beautifully animated film, in French with English subtitles, is told primarily in the past tense while the adult Marjane waits in an airport and reflects on her life. Her story begins at age nine, when she displays her wildly idealist spirit by parading around the living room chanting her support of the Shah to the dismay of her liberal parents, then quickly changes her tune to ‘down with the Shah!’ after hearing their opinions. A beloved communist uncle explains the Shah’s fall from power with the hint of shady deals, but the exact details of the coups, generals and armies do not seem too important because Persepolis is at heart an autobiography, and not a history lesson. The events are depicted using playful marionette theatre: flailing limbs attached to strings and a silly attempt at French spoken by a scheming British general make the corruption go down easier, and serve as a reminder that this is all being explained to a child.
The film is based on the real life of Marjane Satrapi, whose investment in the project is absolute: she wrote and illustrated a comic autobiography, also titled Persepolis, which she adapted for the screen and directed along with Vincent Paronnaud. Such complete personal involvement with the portrayal of one’s own life story is rare, and takes a great deal of courage.
Satrapi avoids narcissism by treating herself and her family as characters to develop. The lively young Marjane could be the star of a children’s book a la Pippi Longstocking, in sharp contrast with the moody, teenage Marjane. After running into trouble at school, Marjane’s parents send her to Vienna so she doesn’t get killed in Iran for speaking what she believes, or worse, stop saying it. Marjane flounders in Europe, far from her family and unsure of herself.
While never self-indulgent, Persepolis borders on melodramatic at times, especially when recounting Marjane’s misadventures in dating nihilistic European men and her subsequent bout of depression. Her grandmother—who is frank with Marjane about everything from how to keep her breasts perky (“dunk them in ice water ten minutes a day”) to marriage (“the first marriage is only practice for the next one”)—steps in to remind Marjane and the audience that once the girl fought for what she believed in, and so we’re led to root for her revival.
The stunning black and white traditional animation allows Satrapi to depict her memories with impressions more than exact details: mobs gathering in her Tehran neighborhood create a terrifying silhouetted mass that seems able to overtake the entire city. It works comically as well; she describes her awkward ascent into adolescence as a time when random body parts suddenly sprout, shrink or appear completely out of nowhere, and the accompanying literal depiction is one of the film’s best uses of the infinite possibilities of animation.
Don’t be fooled by the animation or frightened by the subtitles: Persepolis is a masterful, mature film, fully deserving of the acclaim garnered from the few who’ve seen it.
