I keep on reediting this film in my head, telling the same story in a different way, allowing it to be vulnerable, to be misunderstood, so alone in a life so wonderous, divine of meaning.
As critical of its solipsism as its devoted to it. An attempt to approach sentinel life as a disease incurable, And what could that mean. Stylistic hesitation and somewhat parodied self-importance, that prove to actually be the face of true courage. For a film as sad as this one, and in such a particular sense of undisputed sadness as well, it is urgent and lively, and it is so very funny. Almost as funny as the fact that we allow…
"Dead people don't dream".
My mother's family left Iran for Israel in the 50's, when things became more dangerous for Jews. Before Under the Shadow, I never saw a film in which the characters spoke Farsi. The language my mother talked with her parents and aunts and uncles and cousins, a language I associate with softly spoken gossip, the second names of relatives that shadow their Hebrew ones, the absolute best cuisine ever, children poems that I was taught only…