‘Woman and Child’ Review: An Unwieldy Iranian Melodrama Sustained by Great Performances and a Gifted Young Director

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4 films to his credit, three of them expansive ensemble pieces with a daring approach, 35-year-old Iranian prodigy Saeed Roustaee is a director who consistently aims for a grand slam with each new project. His 2019 drug thriller, Law of Tehran, was a blend of the intensity of The French Connection and the intricate storytelling of The Wire, set in modern-day Iran. Meanwhile, his 2022 family saga, Leila’s Brothers — much like his latest work — debuted in competition at Cannes. This film bore resemblances to both the epic family dynamics of The Godfather and the poignant social dramas of Asghar Farhadi, while also featuring some of the finest performances seen on screen that year.

In another bold move, Roustaee delves into the dramatic sphere with “Mother and Child,” an expansive modern melodrama brimming with love, loss, sorrow, rage, envy, revenge, and perhaps even murder. It’s a heavy load, and not all of it hits the mark, despite some outstanding performances, including from frequent leading man Payman Maadi, who has also collaborated early on with Farhadi in “About Elly” and “A Separation.” The actor shares the screen with an exceptional female cast in a narrative that unfolds like a 1950s Hollywood tearjerker, overflowing with emotion but not always managing to be convincing. However, Roustaee’s raw talent shines through in several striking scenes where he skillfully blends intense emotions with the turmoil of family life.

Initially, it takes a brief span to familiarize oneself with the setting, as we are immersed in the life of Mahnaz, portrayed by Parinaz Izadyar, a widowed mother juggling between various nursing jobs and caring for her teenage son Aliyar (Sinan Mohebi) and daughter Neda (Arshida Dorostkar), who is 8 years old. Co-habiting with her nuisance of a mom and younger sister Mehri, Mahnaz, who is overworked, also finds time to court Hamid, an ambulance driver eagerly yearning for marriage.

As a fan, I’d say, “The film primarily follows Mahnaz’s story, but the director cleverly introduces Aliyar early on – a boisterous teenager with a knack for causing chaos in school. The director, Roustaee, showcases his love for grand spectacles in scenes where hordes of young extras fill workshops and classrooms to capacity. At one pivotal moment, the camera, skillfully operated by Adib Sobhani, sweeps high above the schoolyard, revealing students and parents divided by a fence that, unbeknownst to Aliyar, he had accidentally locked.

The image is potent and offers a glimpse into future events: Cornered by Hamid, Mahnaz reluctantly agrees to arrange a meeting between their parents to discuss a marriage – as even at 40, a widow has no say in whom she marries. Mahnaz sends her children to stay with their grandfather (Hassan Pourshirazi), but things unravel when Hamid discovers his true feelings lie with the younger Mehri. To make matters more complex, Roustaee introduces an unexpected twist: without any prior notice, we learn that Aliyar has been taken to the hospital and, sadly, passes away.

In a remarkable manner, few directors could successfully string together such a series of events, yet when Mahnaz bursts into the emergency room to witness her son’s demise, the emotional intensity is profoundly moving. However, this poignant scene, along with Mahnaz’s prolonged mourning process, leads to additional melodramatic turns in a plot that demands a degree of suspension of disbelief. Contrasting with Roustaee’s previous works, which were grounded in realism, Woman and Child veers excessively into the realm of soap operas and thrillers during its latter half, despite the fact that the performances and direction remain consistently excellent.

In the plot, Mahnaz harbors a secret revenge towards Hamid and the grandfather, whom she suspects of murdering her son. Is her actions driven by desperation, mistrust, or guilt over Aliyar’s death, since she sent him away to arrange an unfulfilled marriage? Or perhaps she feels responsible for his demise? Izadyar, a frequent collaborator of the director, masterfully portrays these internal struggles as Mahnaz progresses through various stages of grief, eventually deciding to take control herself.

Although the current film by Roustaee deviates somewhat from his past works concerning social matters, the influence of Iran’s oppressive patriarchal society is subtly portrayed throughout its narrative. The main characters – a woman and her child – might appear to be central figures in the unfolding drama, but their autonomy is significantly constrained in a nation where men dictate all the regulations. Despite Mahnaz’s attempts to challenge this system through legal means, the judiciary proves to be unyielding, forcing her into defying the law. Interestingly, she ends up mirroring the very acts of rebellion she often scolded her son for, underscoring the unexpected similarities between them.

In a story primarily focusing on strong female characters, Maadi portrays Hamid as a struggling loner who often mistreats women. He perceives an advantage in marrying Mahnaz, and later finds even greater opportunity with her younger sister. The enigma of Mehri’s attraction to such an unappealing suitor – one of the least charming grooms in recent times – can be attributed to the limited choices she has.

If Roustaee sometimes allows the narrative to veer off course, particularly during the final act, he effectively amplifies specific scenes by emphasizing the ongoing gender and socio-economic struggles his characters experience. Notably, the film’s debut scene depicts Mahnaz in a plastic surgery clinic surrounded by numerous other Iranian women, all donning chemical masks to achieve a more youthful or appealing appearance. Striking images such as this include a prolonged shot over the graves of children in Aliyar’s cemetery and an outdoor area filled with parked ambulances that Mahnaz rents out for homeless families to stay overnight.

As a gamer diving into “Woman and Child,” I’ve got to say, it surpasses the ordinary dramas out there. It’s fascinating how the impulsive actions of Mahnaz and others are a reflection of a society that’s relentlessly weighing them down. Despite the melodramatic twists, it’s evident that Roustaee’s raw talent as a director shines through, hinting at many more compelling narratives yet to be shared.

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2025-05-23 16:55