The Pot and the Oak Tree; The Image of a Failed Iranian Intellectual

The 46th Rotterdam International Film Festival, currently taking place in this cold Dutch port, is hosting only one Iranian film this year: the debut feature of Kiarash Anvari titled "The Pot and the Oak Tree," which is experiencing its world premiere in the Bright Future section. The Rotterdam Festival is known for being a platform for newcomers, filled with first and second films from young filmmakers and rich in experimental films that seek to try a different language. In this regard, it may be the most experimental of all European festivals. However, it raises questions as to why, out of about fifty Iranian films submitted for this festival—one that has long supported young Iranian filmmakers and awarded Babak Jalali's "Radio Dreams" the top prize last year—only "The Pot and the Oak Tree" was selected. Regardless of its success or failure, this film is also an experimental work that attempts to adopt a different expression. The film tells the story of a playwright and his problems with his actress wife, trying to delve into a realm that Iranian cinema has rarely addressed: the lives and concerns of intellectuals. However, before presenting a worthy image of the situation of young artists and intellectuals, the film appears to offer a clichéd portrayal of them, ultimately transforming into a confused and vague image of a semi-mad character who fails to engage the audience with the main character. From the outset, the film emphasizes that we are facing a failed intellectual. We quickly learn that he is unsuccessful in theater and teaching and harbors no good feelings towards the success of his colleagues. His inability to have children is a secret that exacerbates his crisis. At the same time, he is trying to write a play that we are, in a way, watching. In fact, the filmmaker's effort is to combine the world of theater with the world of cinema. Occasionally, the film cuts to the play being written, which features the main characters of the film as its actors. Meanwhile, the main character's romantic rival is performing a play that directly corresponds to the real-life dynamics of this love triangle. Ultimately, the play being written connects with the play being performed—marked by a change in the voice of the play's narrator—and everything intertwines to create a bitter ending. The film also attempts to be a psychological work about a man's emotional and mental struggles, but it does not delve deeply into this aspect and only provides immature glimpses. For instance, his childhood problems and his father's suicide are ostensibly meant to justify this character's violent actions and psychological issues, but this reference lacks any foundation throughout the film and remains an undeveloped and peripheral point. The filmmaker shows a strong inclination to depict his characters from behind. In the initial shots, we only see the main character from behind, and it takes several minutes to fully see his face. Some middle scenes of the film continue this method, including the encounter of two rival characters in a supermarket, where we only see them in a long shot from behind. Long shots and a static camera shape the film's visual structure; a camera that attempts to coldly observe its characters. However, this distanced camera and the very cold and unrelatable characters ultimately create a significant gap between the viewer and the film, severing their connection. It seems that the filmmaker's experimentation in form turns into a formal play that does not establish a clear connection with the essence and world of the film. The filmmaker's confusion translates into the viewer's confusion, and ultimately, we do not understand whether the film critiques the intellectual—or pseudo-intellectual—society of Iran or tells a narrative about a semi-mad character who ultimately engages in dangerous actions.