No Bears (Khers nist)

 

Director Jafar Panahi

NO BEARS (Khers nist)        B                                                                                                     Iran  (106 mi)  2022  d: Jafar Panahi

I am not a part of society.  That obviously affects me and is something that I reflect on.  My personal experiences now play a much greater role in my work than society does.  In other words, my inspiration comes from my present circumstances and is then transferred into society, rather than being the other way around.  It is almost as if an entire society exists within me.

—Jafar Panahi interview with Ehsan Khoshbakht and Drew Todd, editors of the Jafar Panahi: Interviews, 2018, Jafar Panahi - Project MUSE

Surprise, surprise!  Another moral tale from Iran.  Jafar Panahi, Mohammad Rasoulof, and Mustafa Al-Ahmad have all been targeted film directors by this Iranian government regime, part of a broad crackdown on as many as 100 artists, repeatedly rounded up and arrested, while also serving jail time, as government censors still ban all foreign films as well as anything else deemed counter-revolutionary.  While some may believe that a persecuted artist in some way deserves a greater voice, elevating the importance of their work, as Panahi is not heard in his own country, where he has been effectively silenced by the Iranian government, his films banned, forbidden to make new films or travel out of the country, as he’s been on house arrest now for over a decade since 2010 for attending the funeral of Neda Agha-Soltan, the young Iranian woman killed during the 2009 Iran election protests, as he was accused of conspiring against the government by supporting the dissident unrest that followed the disputed 2009 re-election of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.  And while that may be true, this is a very cryptic film, told in code as it’s made illegally, where you have to read between the lines, as Panahi’s films negotiate the territory between an art striving for freedom and its imposed constraints, where the claustrophobic intensity feels like the walls are closing in, yet there’s a surprising amount of humor in what amounts to a very serious film, where it’s impossible to view this without constantly thinking about the current conditions in Iran and the possible fate of the director.  It also brings to mind the fate of Iranian freedom activist Narges Mohammadi, winner of the Nobel Prize in 2023 while imprisoned in her own country for defending women's rights, sentenced to 16 years for running “a human rights movement that campaigns for the abolition of the death penalty,” while also criticizing the regime’s use of torture and sexualized violence.  Not much actually happens in this film, as instead everything is implied, where there’s a dark cloud hanging over what we see, stuck in a no man’s land, suggesting ominous possibilities, yet there’s an unhurried, relaxed pace, told in a very evenhanded manner, blurring the lines between a documentary and a feature film.  The cultural aspects pit ancient traditions against modern sensibilities, where it’s not easy to navigate one’s way through this seemingly arcane experience filled with hidden minefields, where we’re continually looking backwards, unable or unwilling to face the future, or seek any kind of progress, as we’re caught in a web of unresolvable roadblocks that keep us stuck in the past, becoming an allegorical purgatory.  When Panahi began his career, he was considered among the more Westernized of the Iranian filmmakers, especially CRIMSON GOLD (2003), which has a more commercialized style to it, almost like a sophisticated thriller, the closest the director has come to making a genre film, with a prominent scene veering into the palatial opulence of Fellini’s NIGHTS OF CABIRIA (1957), even featuring a jazz soundtrack.  However, since his house arrest, with severe restrictions on his filmmaking, his style has become more minimalist, resembling the films of his compatriot Abbas Kiarostami, having worked as his assistant director in the 90’s, but his recent films are more straightforward, lacking the depth and poetic grace of Kiarostami, particularly the gorgeously visualized rural compositions, probably because they are made in secret on next to no budget, and have the feel of being made on the fly, eventually having to be smuggled out of the country, where this won a Special Jury Prize (3rd Place) at the 2022 Venice Film Festival.                   

From the maker of 3 Faces (Se rokh) (2018), this continues his neorealist exploration of the mountainous region of the West Azerbaijan Province and the remote rural communities where Panahi grew up, with the director playing a fictional film director who is banned from making films and leaving the country, moving to a remote village near the Turkish border where he rents a space where he can work with the help of his obliging host Ghanbar (Vahid Mobaseri) and his elderly mother.  Despite the rural isolation, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, Panahi’s presence unleashes a torrent of activity in this small community, as old grievances are suddenly catapulted to the forefront, where as a successful artist he’s expected to intervene and perhaps bring a calm rationality to these festering tensions.  Working remotely, communicating by phone, directing scenes taking place in neighboring Turkey through a livestream on his computer, he also faces unexpected difficulties by continually losing WiFi coverage, reminiscent of similar circumstances in Kiarostami’s THE WIND WILL CARRY US (1999), accentuating the consequences of human isolation, where this could just as easily have been entitled NO BORDERS, as the fate of different characters rests upon crossing that border, including the director, whose limits have been imposed by the state.  Added to that are the constant interruptions by unexpected visitors, each plagued by some unforeseen dilemma, which becomes a Marx Brothers comedy of errors, where it appears Panahi can never get any work done.  The fictionalized documentary style film he is making morphs into a realist film within a film, opening on a busy street in Turkey filled with street vendors and street musicians collecting money, with people seen sitting in a pub, as we follow an Iranian couple in forced exile, Zara (Mina Kavani), a waitress in a café, who sneaks out to meet her partner Bakhtiar (Bakhtiyar Panjeei).  Having acquired a stolen passport for Zara after ten years of waiting, both having been subject to arrests and abuse, including torture, Bakhtiar insists Zara go on ahead and flee to Europe, and he will join her later.  An emotional and confused Zara expresses her refusal to leave without Bakhtiar, just as the assistant director, Reza (Reza Heidari), yells “Cut!”  A film about the making of a film, where the storytelling is far from obvious, what initially stands out is how the illusion of filmmaking blends into a stark reality, as we discover Zara and Bakhtiar are in real life planning to escape to Paris using forged documents.  In a stunning turn of events, her tirade upon learning that her partner’s new life-saving passport is just a movie prop, is shocking, refusing to play a fake version of herself, angered at how this affects their real lives, as that deception ultimately drives her to despair.  The backdrop of the film is living in fear, as Iranian people are living in a police state, constantly subject to harassment and arrest by the Revolutionary guard, so the residents are afraid the government eyes on this big city director from Tehran will only draw attention to the black market smuggling operation taking place along the border, which is already under surveillance, as it’s entirely illegal, yet is how people in these rural, isolated areas have survived for years.  When villagers hear Panahi has driven to the top of the mountain for better reception, he inadvertently entered the heart of smuggler territory, drawing their ire, wondering what he’s up to while arousing their suspicions.  But on his return he’s met by a troubled young woman, Gozal (Darya Alei), who pleads with Panahi to help in covering up a photograph she believes he had taken of her and Solduz (Amir Davari), an expelled university student whose crime was participating in a demonstration.  Gozal is in love with Solduz, but was promised at birth to the reckless and hot-headed Jacob (Javad Siyahi), who is violently prepared to take matters into his own hands.  She implores him not to show the picture, as if he does, “there will be blood.”   

Without fully understanding the implications, Panahi is besieged by residents afterwards demanding the photograph as proof of an existing relationship between the lovers, accused by villagers of promoting the forbidden union, suddenly finding himself in the middle of a longstanding family feud, where antiquated customs seem to be fueling the desire to rid the town of unholy or unhealthy elements, with the villagers suggesting he’s holding incriminating evidence.  Even after giving them his camera’s memory card as proof he has no alleged photograph of the couple, they remain unconvinced, urging Panahi to go to their swearing room and swear to God that he did not take the picture of Gozal and Solduz together.  While expressing reservations about antiquated customs, Panahi requests to film his testimony, which unleashes of flood of resistance, with suggestions that those who control the images control the narrative.  While it’s hard to imagine a world where love is a crime, it soon becomes clear that while Panahi has problems with the authorities, the villagers remain in the thralls of tradition, believing in age-old rituals shrouded by superstitions, where it’s impossible to reason with their perceived slights, as they are offended by what he represents, an outsider (or “foreigner”) from the city disregarding their own customs.  One villager warns him about the danger of bears along the road, later acknowledging that these stories are concocted to fan the flames of fear, suggesting “our fears empower others.”  Just as fictitious stories are designed to frighten people about things that don’t actually exist, the tyrannical government also implements laws to terrorize its own citizens, where suffocating traditions only empower the reign of terror, as Iran is not a democracy, but a violently repressive autocratic Islamic power that has only become more fanatical, continuing to rely upon irrational religious customs, such as the naming of a husband at the time of birth in an arranged marriage, never allowing that grown-up woman the right to make her own choice.  Even in the remote villages, the struggles with patriarchal authority are as oppressive as in the city, revealing the sexist and misogynistic prejudices that date back centuries, which fly in the face of modernity, leaving women in a Kafkaesque predicament where only desperate acts, like leaving the country, offer any hint of a better life.  While the film is a subversive stab at the absurdity of religious dogma, these metaphorical tales can only go so far, as they themselves are figments of the imagination.  The film’s merging into social realism can feel disjointed trying to assemble its various parts, making it a difficult watch, delving into a world of untold tragedies in a very dark finale raising unanswerable questions.  However, there’s little emotional engagement, and the simplicity of the artistry can feel underwhelming, with little visual flair, especially when compared to other artists in similar positions, where the early works of Krzysztof Kieślowski come to mind, making powerful moral parables like Blind Chance (Przypadek) (1981) or NO END (1985), which were also banned.  In the large scheme of things, it’s questionable what influence this film has, feeling more like he’s preaching to the converted.  How do you create art that is interested in changing society when people are not interested in change?  Those who are living in freedom appreciate the effort, while those who are not will probably never see the film, so much like Kieślowski, history will be the ultimate judge.

Menus-Plaisirs - Les Troisgros

 

Michel Troisgros

Michel and two sons Léo and César

Léo, Michel, and César

 

Léo and his partner Lisa Roche

Sommelier Christian Vermorel

César in the kitchen

Director Frederick Wiseman

Wiseman with the Troisgros family

MENUS-PLAISIRS – LES TROISGROS                B+                                                               USA  (240 mi)  2023  d: Frederick Wiseman

We have an attachment to our land and those who cultivate it, and consider it our duty to promote and showcase it.  We take pleasure in cooking the vegetables from our garden.  Inspired by permaculture, we have wonderful biodiversity: we don’t use any inputs, the mowing of green spaces is reduced to a minimum, beehives, bird boxes, meadows, horses and wild animals live peacefully together.                                                                                                  —César Troisgros

Coming on the heels of such a luxurious glimpse of French culinary pleasures in Trân Anh Hùng’s The Taste of Things (La passion de Dodin Bouffant) (2023), this is an even more expansive 4-hour immersion into the heart of French cooking, as Wiseman is allowed access into one of the more revered restaurants in France, Le Bois sans Feuilles (The Leafless Forest), a large Italian-style countryside inn surrounded by farmlands, something right out of Renoir’s idyllic portrait in A Day in the Country (Partie de Campagne) (1946), yet with a modernized touch.  The nature-inspired interior designed by architect Patrick Bouchain is a large open space, with tables positioned far apart from one another, where floor-to-ceiling glass windows arranged around an imposing hundred-year-old oak tree offer guests a view of the lush outdoor greenery, with cows and horses seen grazing off in the distance.  In much the same way Wiseman broadened our horizons with such massive, in-depth explorations in At Berkeley (2013), National Gallery (2014), In Jackson Heights (2015), and City Hall (2020), places and institutions that are characterized by their public accessibility, this is another provocatively indispensable film, reflective of the director’s move to Paris twenty years ago, where La Maison Troisgros is one of the nation’s most distinguished cultural landmarks, a prestigious family-run restaurant in the rural French provinces with a months-long waiting list, recognized as one of the great restaurants in the world.  The artistry involved is akin to making films, where the creativity is such an essential ingredient, as they’re as much concerned with the shape and color of the presentation on the plate as they are with the taste of the food.  The culinary art of Maison Troisgros literally embodies French cuisine, playing an essential part of the story of 20th century French haute cuisine, with the 93-year family journey (as old as Wiseman himself) beginning in 1930 when Jean-Baptiste and Marie Troisgros took over the Hôtel des Platanes located opposite the train station in Roanne, just northwest of Lyon in the Loire valley, changed its name to L'Hôtel Moderne and opened a small restaurant that was to become Maison Troisgros, the humble beginnings of what would become a generation changing restaurant.  Their two sons, Jean and Pierre, inherited the business, obtaining their first Michelin star in 1956, their second in 1965, and their third in 1968, when the brothers revolutionized French gastronomy, becoming the epicenter of Nouvelle cuisine, even writing a book on the subject, The Nouvelle Cuisine of Jean & Pierre Troisgros, where each plate is a carefully thought out work of art, with the father-son duo of Pierre working with Michel for over a decade after Jean’s death.  Now with four generations of family operations, they have held three Michelin stars for more than fifty years, currently on the verge of surpassing L’Auberge du Pont de Collonges’ record of 55 years, though technically the stars attach to the address, not the chef, so recent moves have broken that continuation.  None of that is mentioned in the film, of course, as it’s not a compilation of records or statistics, but offers instead an eye witness account of what happens behind the scenes, in the kitchen, and on the floor of the restaurant, literally taking viewers directly into a place they’ll likely never visit in their lifetimes, and with a regular menu prix fixe (fixed price) of 340 euros without drinks probably couldn’t afford it even if they did, allowing the luxuriousness of the experience to speak for itself. 

While the restaurant is an upper crust establishment, it’s not one of those stuffy, old-world relics that thrive on strict formalities of etiquette and decorum, instead it breathes a life of its own, in harmony with the world just outside its door, using organic vegetables grown from their own garden, where their menu changes with the seasons, always providing the freshest of ingredients.  One of the more amusing scenes is watching a brigade of chefs, dressed in their aprons and all-white chef’s attire, heading out into the forest like an invading army to cut wild elderflowers as garnishes for the daily menu.  You’d think the white fabric would easily get soiled by grass stains and dirt, as they’re not exactly properly dressed for the occasion, but it seems like a spontaneous excursion, a bit like sending giddy elementary school kids out on a field trip.  From the outset we are introduced to the gastronomic talent on display, where Michel Troisgros is the third generation family patriarch who operates three different properties in the area, opening Le Central in 1995, a café-restaurant-grocery opposite the train station in Roanne, housed in an old hotel dating back to the 1920’s, a building the family rented for more than 80 years, decorated in an eclectic style by his wife Marie-Pierre (seen but never introduced), a reflection of their many travels together.  A decade later in 2008 later they opened La Colline du Colombier a few kilometers away from Roanne in the countryside, renovating an old farmhouse into a restaurant and inn located high up on the hills above Iguerande in a beautiful natural setting.  And in 2017 they opened Le Bois sans Feuilles, where most of the film is shot, moving away from Roanne to Ouches, occupying a 19th century, ivy-covered stone villa, where it took two years to complete the renovation, with Michel’s wife and daughter Marion running the 15 guest rooms and villas.  The contrast between an unpretentious refinement and an artful rusticity gives the redesigned farm its quietly dramatic personality, where they have transformed signature dishes from the menu into something more simplistic and self-sustainable, earning a Michelin green star in 2020 for exemplary sustainable practices.  “To respect tradition, sometimes you must challenge it boldly,” Michel declares, enthusiastically passing the torch to his two sons, César and Léo, where César, who studied under Thomas Keller in Napa, is now the head chef here, Léo at La Colline, while also working a Troisgros food truck in the Ouches marketplace on weekends, though all three are seen discussing new menu possibilities while working alongside each other in the kitchen.  That he entrusted his reputation to his sons isn’t surprising, as his father and grandparents did the same.  What is surprising is the level of calmness in the kitchen, which is immaculate, never seeing dishwashers or filthy piles of garbage, or anyone taking a smoke break, where no one’s shouting, as orders are politely announced, and there’s no clanging of pots and pans, instead it appears more like a laboratory, a tranquil sanctuary of culinary expertise with the chefs working quickly in what appears to be a labor of love, with very little actually spoken, going against the grain that the kitchen is a hectic and stressful environment, while the invisible presence of James Bishop’s cinéma vérité camera feels completely non-intrusive.  As is typical in Wiseman’s films, by spending so much time scrutinizing each subject, with no interjected editorializing, he allows the unique experience to be our own, as if we are privileged guests.

Clearly what distinguishes the look of the film is the modern glass structure, as if designed for an architectural museum, literally bringing the countryside into the dining room, allowing the infinite changes of the outside world to become a natural part of each individual dining experience, like impressionist painters continually drawn to new light, yet the overall size of the kitchen is equally impressive, allowing freedom of movement and a seamless choreography of multiple chefs, with no visible obstructions, while the spaciousness in the dining room allows guests plenty of room to breathe, where no one is crowding someone else’s space.  Yet what’s unique about the experience is the ownership and its staff, which is trained to be intuitive and observant, where they are the very definition of hospitality, treating everyone like family, as a meeting with the wait staff focuses on individualized customer preferences, paying special attention to anything that could be perceived as manipulative or bullying, or just bad taste, exhibiting no signs of elitism, which seems incredibly au courant, where part of the sumptuousness of the experience is avoiding these little unexpected pitfalls, though to be totally fair, the restaurant caters almost exclusively to wealthy white clientele, while few women are seen in the kitchen, as this remains a male-dominated industry.  The father and sons can be seen debating plating options, analyzing flavor profiles, with the father grilling them on every detail, whether to add or subtract ingredients, questioning texture and presentations, always trying to improve upon the purity of flavor, as they’re continually tinkering, never completely satisfied with the ephemeral nature of what they put on the plate, and while the film is about the running of a high-end restaurant, it’s also about the passing-down of traditions, exploring how each generation has their own interpretation of those traditions.  At one point, one of the faulty sous-chefs is duteously taken aside by Michel and read the proper preparation process for bleeding blood from calf brains in the Escoffier and the Grand Larousse encyclopédique.  The family can also be seen purchasing fresh vegetables in an open-air market, where we see a treasure trove of oyster mushrooms, or discussing what wines to add to their extensive wine list, or replenish their cellar, with some bottles now costing up to fifteen thousand euros, paying particular attention to establishing ongoing relations to nearby wineries, who regularly set aside wines for their restaurant.  There’s an unusually detailed visit to a massive cheese producer, sourcing sheep, goat, and cow’s milk from nearby farms, where they clean the cheese, dust and salt the product, reseed them by rubbing one cheese with others, and then store them for months or years, endlessly rotating them, bringing each to its fullest potential, “each cheese has its moment of truth.”  Visits to a cattle ranch, a local vineyard, a beekeeper, and an organic farmer all suggest that it’s the soil that makes the product, adding grass or beans to the soil near the grapes, making sure they don’t draw too much moisture, or we see livestock are continually herded to a fresher pasture, keeping the grass at its maximum potential by not overgrazing, literally a week or so at each location, always allowing it to fully grow back, doing as little damage as possible.  Biodiversity holds the key not just in replenishing the soil, but also in the carefully chosen menus specifically designed to reduce food waste in restaurants, which accounts for a substantial amount of food waste around the globe (Around 19 percent of food is wasted globally as 783 million people face chronic hunger, UN says | PBS NewsHour).  In an interesting observation, no one is seen requesting a to-go box.    

While there are no conventional documentary elements like interviews, narration, or a structured storyline, Wiseman, who works for months afterwards editing his own films, also departs from his signature style of a decade ago when his camera simply hovered for extreme long shots, with very few edits, always capturing mood and texture, never offering any hint about the specifics of who or what we are witnessing, as the meditative style alone is such a careful, thoughtful process probing the nuances of each subject.  The edits come more frequently now, perhaps due to the speed in the kitchen, with the camera continually having to stay out of the way, so there are flurries of shots, adding poetic transitional inserts.  This quietly absorbing film is structured around the collaboration of meal planning and preparation, beginning with a lunch service at Troisgros restaurant led by César, followed by another service at the sister restaurant La Colline run by Léo, with Michel then making a few digressions to local food producers and suppliers, giving viewers an insider’s view of the means of production, before returning to Troisgros for an evening dinner service.  Piecing together seven weeks of footage taken from different days, the editing simulates a sort of day-in-the-life of a restaurant chef.  There are generally three menu options, a standard menu, a tasting menu, and a pairing menu, where 10 courses are accompanied by 10 wines, while a cheese cart is also rolled through the restaurant, with one scene amusingly showing the wild enthusiasm of a woman making her selections.  Impressed, perhaps, by the family’s ability to adapt to changing circumstances, Wiseman similarly allows a developing commentary on the floor of the restaurant to provide something of a narrative thread, displaying an extraordinary level of conscientiousness for customers, with servers, none of whom wear ties, by the way, meticulously documenting the substitutions from food allergies or personal preference, noting special occasions, such as birthdays and anniversaries, while Michel leisurely chats with customers, even breaking into English at one point for American guests, typically ogling over the wines, as if they were on the set of Alexander Payne’s SIDEWAYS (2004).  Wiseman also follows Sommelier Christian Vermorel, whose knowledge of wine is unsurpassed, overseeing a cellar of 31,000 bottles, explaining every winemaker has their own écriture, or signature, an expression of their own individual cultivation techniques and style, yet he breaks it down into easily understandable options.  At a restaurant like this, food and wine perfectly complement one another, becoming an instant topic for table discussion, as Wiseman patiently illuminates the restless creativity of the culinary family as they continue to experiment with dishes, methods, and ingredients, a radical departure from the heavier tradition of classic French cuisine taught at Le Cordon Bleu, infusing the menu with a fresh perspective, inspired by Asian ingredients from the family’s travels to Japan as early as the 1960’s, making sure the food is continually evolving.  By the end, we see Michel pondering his legacy with one of his guests, becoming a story of heritage and inspiration, where his longstanding success allows him to quietly pass the business down to his own sons, though not without some trepidation, finding himself in a transitional crossroads between generations past and moving into a new era for him and his family.  Wiseman brilliantly allows his overall artistic vision to slowly come into focus, so closely immersing viewers into this unique experience, making sure it has an unmistakable effect, as we literally become experts on the subject simply by the totality of information that is thoroughly imbedded into the film, while the filmmaker himself must share the old chef’s ruminations about leaving his own legacy.

Frederick Wiseman on Menus-Plaisirs Les Troisgros | NYFF61  conversation between Wiseman and program director Florence Almozini, YouTube (19:55)

Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros - PBS  entire film available through 4/20/24 (3:59:51)