The Salesman (Asghar Farhadi, 2016) Iran | France

Review by Gustav Arndal. Viewed at Metro 4 Theater at the Santa Barbara Film Festival 2017.

When you’ve watched Asghar Farhadi’s film The Salesman, you’ll notice a sense of unease that has been with you for most of its running time. The tight framing, muted colors and subtle dialogue tell the story of a relationship brimming with tension, and Farhadi has no intention of leaving the audience comfortable.

It all starts and ends with a broken home. The Iranian couple Rama (Taraneh Alidoosti) and Emad (Shahab Hosseini) flees an apartment complex in danger of collapsing and after a bit of searching find a place that’s not in total disrepair. Soon after moving in, however, an unlucky incident leaves Rama bleeding from a head wound after an unknown assailant entered their home.

Emad is desperate to do something about it, but Rama refuses to call the police or even say much about the incident. So Emad decides to take matters into his own hands.

The main characters are both actors at a local theater doing a rendition of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. Emad plays the lead, a man in search of validation who was never good enough at his job, a parallel to his trouble with powerlessness in his real life. Throughout the film, the line between performance and reality is shown to be blurred. At one point Rama breaks down crying during her performance, and at another Emad goes off script to cuss at his new landlord.

This blurred line between performance and reality not only enhances the realism of the “off-stage” scenes, it also serves as commentary on the way people “perform” certain roles. Like “the neighbor.” Or “the husband and the wife.” Or “the father-in-law.” The movie asks us to consider the dangers of performing your expected role instead of telling the truth.

The Salesman is a beautifully subtle film. There are no great declarations or heartfelt monologues – most of this story lies in the things left unsaid. In less capable hands the movie might have felt slow or ineffable, but thanks to some amazing performances from Alidoosti and Hosseini it all feels eerily real. The talent at display here can hardly be overstated. These actors say more with a single look or gesture than pages of dialogue ever could. The camera lingers unflinchingly on these performances, confronting the audience with the tension of the central relationship and leaving time to think about the implications of smaller details.

And it’s the smaller details that keep you thinking afterwards. The ambiguity of what exactly happened when Rama was injured. The way Emad is good with kids but doesn’t have any of his own. The way the landlord delicately packs the dress of the former tenant. Many unanswered questions and many unsaid reservations.

The apartment itself seems to reek of unease. The former tenant’s things are scattered around. Rama can’t bring herself to go to the bathroom. Even the kitchen is “tainted” by the incident. There’s a sense of dread and resentment hanging over the place, and while Rama urges Emad to find a new apartment, the audience understands that moving isn’t the solution. Their relationship is deeply flawed. No apartment will fix that. No revenge or forgiveness will fix that.

Their new apartment might not be broken. But their home is.

[Picture form imdb]