Going; From Afghanistan to the Shores of Greece

The Mahdavi brothers, who created an appealing image of the situation of Afghans in Iran today with their film 'Several Cubic Meters of Love' and received acclaim, depict the fragile condition of a people once again in their new film 'Going' (this time directed by Navid Mahdavi and produced by his brother Jamshid Mahdavi; a joint production of Iran and Afghanistan and Afghanistan's representative at the Oscars). This time, instead of staying in Iran (recalling the problems of 'staying' in the previous film), they have chosen 'going' and consider Iran merely a transit point to reach Turkey and from there to Europe. In a scene from the film, we hear on the radio that half of the people of Afghanistan have experienced migration at least once; the film directly addresses this main theme and ultimately dedicates the film to their own 'migrant' parents. The film begins with a small hole in the trunk of a car and ends at the same point: once upon entering Iran and once upon leaving. This coming and going both occur at night, and the initial and final scenes emphasize the main character's captivity in a closed space; as if there is no escape, and inevitably, the main character returns to that closed environment—with a small glimmer of hope to escape from it. However, the calculated mise-en-scène of 'Several Cubic Meters of Love'—which closes tighter throughout the film until ultimately enveloping the main characters and the audience in the final container scene—has this time been opened up; an attempt to distance itself from the inner lives of the main characters and perhaps create a more social atmosphere, which, however, fails to fully depict this space or create striking mise-en-scène. Although the film depicts a closed circle of a single day in the life of an Afghan—who has arrived in Tehran and wants to flee to Turkey and then Europe with a girl he calls his wife—it resorts to a message-laden and sometimes slogan-like expression that diminishes the film's depth instead of drawing closer to the characters and creating their inner world—a task that was successful in 'Several Cubic Meters of Love.' From the beginning of the film, we hear messages on the radio repeatedly discussing the dangers of illegal migrants drowning at sea, and these radio messages and news alone are not enough; the filmmaker also shows the news of an Afghan drowning and the mourning of his brother, wife, and child—a completely exaggerated scene that lacks direction and feels artificial—until we finally see images of the drowned on the main character's phone and hear a slogan-like phone message from his sister. All these repetitions harm the film's cinematic expression, and on the other hand, the type of camera distancing prevents us from engaging with the main characters in dramatic, shocking situations. For example, instead of capturing good performances and the right camera angles, the filmmaker resorts to music, and perhaps due to following a type of conscious realism, stands distanced from his characters—so that we might just be observers—but this style firstly contrasts with the film's tear-jerking music—frequently used—and secondly, distancing from characters requires very powerful characters that can engage the audience even from a distance, yet the main characters of the film are not developed in a way that allows them to draw us into their inner world. The film ends with an open ending that connects to the sound of the sea: a sea that can symbolize both liberation and death, and perhaps both; just as the main characters of 'Several Cubic Meters of Love' emerged from darkness into light at the end.