“I am depressed, O so depressed.
I go to the porch and extend my fingers
Over the taut skin of night.
The lamps that link are dark, O so dark.
No one will introduce me to the sunlight
Or escort me
To the sparrows' gathering.
Commit flight to memory,
For the bird is mortal.”
- ‘I’m Depressed’ by Forough Farrokhzad
“There’s a certain aura of sadness that surrounds The House Is Black, Farrokhzad’s only film as a director, starting with that particular fact. This strong directorial debut is also the farewell for this Iranian poet, who passed away in a car accident four years after the premiere of this short. There’s also the subject matter: the daily life of a leper colony in Iran isn’t exactly a cheerful prospect, but the film surpasses that gloom and manages to find the beauty of the unexpected through the use of clever editing and framing.”
“Dear stars,
dear paper stars,
how can one take refuge in the verses of defeated prophets
when lies blow through the air like wind?
We will meet like those dead for a thousand and thousand years,
and then the sun shall judge the state of our bodies’ decay.”
“One of the first elements that jump to attention is how the film opens with narration regarding the subject of ugliness in the world (done by collaborator Ebrahim Golestan), which clearly contrasts with the beautiful language used in the rest of the voice over of the film, done by Forough herself. Her work as a poet, considered among the most talented female poets of the 20th century and one of the strongest voices that have come from Iran, is always mentioned when trying to come to terms with the film, but it’s unavoidable. Her images depict the ravaged bodies of those affected by leprosy, but the words speak of thankfulness, flying, the sky, the moon and ravens, a common motif in her own poetry. But the images themselves are at odds with what they’re depicting, starting from the opening shot, a beautiful frame within a frame using a zoom that shows a woman looking at a small mirror in the wall, her eyes almost looking back at us, her face devastated by the sickness… but all of it rendered so beautifully.
“But that contrast in itself couldn’t possibly sustain an entire short film, as that premise becomes obvious as time goes on. There’s also a place for irony, a way in which Forough slides criticism towards the society in which she lived, through the scenes in which men appear praying and singing in the streets, praising God and giving thanks for the life they have, all of this while we see some of them lacking body parts or being blinded by the burden they carry. While this might seem cruel, the overall tone of the film isn’t entirely elegiac when depicting the sick, they have value, their lives have worth, but they don’t have it right now, but it’s not their fault.
“The film quickly establishes at the start that leprosy can be cured, that they can be treated, that there’s no need for them to live a life of endless repetition, where their children and their grand-children also get the sickness (after all, as the film says, it’s not hereditary). The problem is somewhere else, but it’s not taken care of. The fault lies beyond the frame, beyond the narration, beyond the deep eyes of the sick women that look towards the camera, asking not for compassion or understanding, but for something to live for.”
“And here I am
a woman alone
at the threshold of a cold season
at the the dawn of realizing earth’s sullied existence
and the sky’s blue despair
and the impotence of these hands made of cement.”
“Forough’s style absolutely comes from her own poetry, as each shot perfectly represents an idea or concept, to then weave itself to the next shot, as if they were verses that create a portrait of a reality that seems stagnated by the lack of attention it receives. The narration also helps to bring together the poetic tone of the work, but the strength of it all lies in the editing. If anything, if she didn’t completely pursue a career as a director, she could’ve been one of the most talented editors, as seen in a work by Ebrahim Golestan, A Fire (1961).”
“I am cold.
I am cold and I think I will never feel warm again.”
“While the film mixes the poetic style, with the factual elements and the critique of the system, one has to understand this particular work of Forough as complete in its own. As important as the context (historical and geographical), her work as a poet, or even her own demise, are important to understand and see new layers into The House is Black, it could also be only seen as a deeply beautiful, haunting work that shakes anyone to their core. The images and their timing are just that powerful.” ~ Jaime Grijalba
Note: *verses in the body of this article are from the posthumous poem ‘Let Us Believe in the Dawn of the Cold Season’.
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