The first thing that came flooding back into my mind the moment I arrived in Toronto for TIFF was the only thing fest-goers do more than watching movies: waiting. If you want to come to TIFF be prepared to get in line. In fact, with the addition of a “Virtual Waiting Room” in TIFF’s ticket purchasing page, you can do your waiting at home too!

After all my waiting online to get the tickets I wanted, I finally arrived to…wait in a line to pick up the tickets I bought. Once I got my tickets, I victoriously arrived to the theatre and…waited in another line for the film. But standing around and waiting is just as essential to TIFF as catching 3-4 films in a day or running around downtown to catch the next screening. There’s always someone to talk to in line as well, as people at the festival will be some of the friendliest film lovers you’ll meet. Where else can you casually chat with a stranger about Derek Cianfrance before switching topics to the Wavelengths lineup without missing a beat?

That’s exactly what I did with some people in line before sitting down to watch The Past. Asghar Farhadi’s film has already been reviewed for the site by Jansen, but as I wanted to see it badly since Cannes (and also because Blue is the Warmest Colour is one of the hardest films to get into this year) I took the chance to catch it. Anyone who has seen Farhadi’s last film A Separation will know what to expect here. It shares more than a few qualities with his previous film (Couple divorcing? Check. Use of walls and glass as barriers to communication? Check), but it’s still rich and compelling material.

The Past

I’ll keep plot details to a minimum. The Past begins with Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) returning to Paris from Tehran so he can officially divorce his wife Marie (Berenice Bejo). They’ve been separated for several years, and he came at her request. The first of the film’s many revelations begin when Ahmad discovers that Marie is not only engaged to another man, played by A Prophet’s Tahar Rahim, but he’s living with her along with his son from another marriage. When Marie asks Ahmad to help find out why her teenage daughter Lucie (Pauline Burlet) is acting rebelliously, he begins to find out details about Marie’s new relationship that begin to tear everyone in the film apart.

Farhadi’s exploration of how his characters are trying to break free from their respective past lives and/or decisions is fascinating, and made all the better by his cast. Bejo, who won Best Actress at Cannes this year for her role, works wonders at making Marie an empathetic character (a lesser actress would have made Marie hard for the audience to like or understand). Tahar Rahim also does a great job with such a subdued character, but the real star is Mosaffa. Ahmad is the heart of the film, and Mosaffa plays the part so well that he’s missed whenever he spends extended periods off-screen.

Unfortunately, when Ahmad does seemingly vanish in the final act, The Past takes a slight dip in quality. Up to that point the focus stayed on Marie, Ahmad and Lucie, but the narrative suddenly switches over to Rahim’s character. Rahim does a fine job, and the way some of the film’s final mysteries unravel makes for a gripping watch, but his character simply isn’t as compelling as Marie and Ahmad.

Nonethless, The Past is still a very good film with an excellent screenplay (don’t be surprised if Farhadi picks up another Oscar nomination for this) and direction. As excellent as Farhadi’s writing is the film’s best moment, where Bejo and Rahim drive home after buying chandeliers, doesn’t have a single word spoken in it.

RATING: 7.5

Manakamana

Next up is Manakamana, the new project by Harvard’s Sensory Ethnography Lab. In my coverage last year, I was blown away by the SEL’s documentary Leviathan. While that film was so excellent at making the forces of nature look otherworldly, Manakamana goes in the opposite direction. Despite its patience-testing format it’s one of the most humanist films I’ve seen all year. People who stick with it will find a documentary whose portrayal of the banal makes for some truly fascinating viewing.

Read full review of Manakamana

Next up:

More Cannes catch-up, this time with Jim Jarmusch’s Only Lovers Left Alive followed by Like Father, Like Son which we said was the best film at Cannes this year. Also, I desperately try to get into The Double but don’t get my hopes up. Check back in the coming days to see if I end up catching Richard Ayoade’s latest, or some other film that was playing at the same time.

For many (myself included), the work of Iranian director Asghar Farhadi was relatively unfamiliar before a little film called A Separation rode on a huge wave success; from unprecedented victory in every major category at the Berlinale Film Festival, to an Oscar for Foreign-language feature a whole year later. As a result, worldwide audiences were exposed to a kind of intellectually, culturally and morally even-handed cinema marked by a direct visual approach and equally balanced, literate screenwriting. To those who have yet to see the director’s About Elly — where a L’Avventura-esque mystery eventually reveals itself as an incisive and finally humane look at contemporary Iranian society — I cannot recommend it enough. But by the same token, About Elly’s embryonic formal and tonal strategies for what would later blueprint A Separation become clear in hindsight. The lingering question on the minds of most remained whether such clarity and slow-burning intricacy in Farhadi’s stories could persist in absence of the intricate nuances of Iranian life he obviously knows so well. Farhadi’s answer to that is The Past (Le Passé).

Set in Paris, The Past opens on Marie (Bérénice Bejo, The Artist), a French woman grappling with her myriad of relationships at various points of burgeoning and disintegration. Chief among them is the visit from her husband Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa), who is returning to France to sign divorce papers after four years back in his native Iran. Complicating matters more, Marie plans to marry Samir (Tahar Rahim, A Prophet), whose child she is pregnant with. Both Marie and Samir bring children from previous romances to densify the relational web Farhadi spins, and as the story progresses Marie’s eldest, Lucie (Pauline Burlet) plays an especially pivotal role as we learn of her possible involvement with Samir’s present wife, who is eight months comatose. All of that sounds cinematically heightened because it is. But unlike the matters of faith and custom that so drove the dramatic urgency of his earlier work, Farhadi here seems to relish the opportunity to take an otherwise melodramatic premise and make it agonisingly, persistently relatable, regardless of cultural context.

It’s not my aim to delve too much into the plot, as many of The Past’s pleasures are drawn not merely from the revelations that Farhadi offers (stunning as they are), but the simultaneous deftness and weight with which he announces them: the director’s inherent ability to doubly affect our minds and hearts, to wring empathy from the brink of apathy, is so evident through The Past’s deliberate 130 minutes. The escalating tension that A Separation played straight and fast is here rendered rather more exponentially: curiosities and twists in the narrative are slower to creep in and more pronounced in their unraveling. This has led some to criticise the third act that plays overtly dramatic, but the crescendo that forms is a result of a more patient, more measured setup—so it’s only natural that once those emotional blows arrive, they seem to land harder.

Farhadi is helped in sticking said moments by an ensemble of performances that play like a well-pitched orchestra, Burlet and Elyes Aguis (as Samir’s young son Fouad, quietly absorbing each familial interaction to form his own worldview of death and consequence) offering breadth beyond their years; Bejo’s elastic, rangy Marie providing sharp contrast to both her silent, charming breakout role in The Artist and her co-star Rahim. In the thankless role of the imposing fourth wheel to an existing (though fractured) family unit, Rahim takes his one-dimension and makes it many, playing Samir’s troubled fatherhood, splintered devotions and not inconsequential guilt in a manner so implicitly interiorized that it’s perhaps the most impressive part of the film.

For all the histrionics that threaten to topple The Past overboard, Farhadi ends the film on a contemplative note that revisits (no pun intended) the multiple thematic readings of its aptly abstract title. It gives away nothing to reveal that the closing scene features Samir at his wife’s bedside, speaking though he knows she can’t hear, and asking though he knows she can’t do — a silent, microcosmic moment that flawlessly summarises the film, yet leaves audiences in perpetual wonderment. If my party line here is that The Past is great precisely because it isn’t overly indebted to A Separation, then I’m thankful that they still share instances of Farhadi’s profound ability to close a movie out.

The Past trailer