Monday, June 2, 2025

Discovering the Quiet Power of Majid Majidi’s Films: A Journey Through Silence and Emotion


Explore how Majid Majidi’s poetic cinema uses silence and subtle storytelling to create deeply emotional experiences beyond words.

A Cinematic Silence: Discovering Majid Majidi with My Father

Some films don’t just entertain—they sit with you, quietly, like a memory that never fades. After 2013, during those quiet, reflective afternoons when life had slowed down just enough, my elder brother, my father, and I often gathered to watch films that didn’t need much dialogue. That’s how we stumbled upon Majid Majidi’s Children of Heaven (1997). There were no dramatic declarations, no soaring background scores—just silences, glances, and the quiet resilience of everyday people. And that was enough.

We weren’t chasing thrillers or big-screen grandeur. What we sought, without naming it, was something honest—something that spoke to our sensibilities. My father, newly retired, found ease in Majidi’s slower rhythm. The three of us, seated in a sunlit room with an old pedestal fan humming, watched in silence as Zahra’s shoe floated down a narrow stream. We didn’t need to speak. The emotion was suspended in the room with us.

It was only later, during my Film Appreciation Workshop at FTII, that I understood why these films affected us so deeply. Iranian cinema, as explained in Hamid Naficy’s A Social History of Iranian Cinema, thrives on narrative silences. These pauses, rooted in Persian storytelling traditions, aren’t gaps—they are textures. In Baran (2001), Lateef’s unspoken affection unfolds through everyday gestures: a glance, a hesitation, the weight of doing the right thing. My brother and I would notice how Majidi allowed moments to linger, the way Persian poetry does. As an architect, I found that silence wasn’t emptiness—it was space with meaning, much like courtyards in traditional homes.

Light, Space, and Visual Verse

Majidi’s use of light and space is where I truly connected—as both viewer and architect. In The Colour of Paradise (1999), Mohammad’s fingers brushing through golden wheat fields felt like a painting. Those shots didn’t just frame nature—they felt reverent. Through FTII, I had studied Indian masters like Satyajit Ray, whose Apu Trilogy uses framing as emotional storytelling. Majidi does the same, his camera soaking in sunlight and shadow as if the world itself is reciting a poem.

The long takes in The Song of Sparrows (2008), with birds darting through dusty skies, echoed something personal. I was reminded of the spaces from my childhood in Bhagyanagar— the lanes, the quiet rooftops where life moved in soft pulses. As New Lines Magazine beautifully noted, “The key to understanding Iran is poetry,” and Majidi’s visuals pulse with that poetic rhythm. Every pause, every slow pan, carries the weight of an entire verse.

What We Watched Without Explaining

What we shared was not analysis, but presence. In Children of Heaven, as Ali ran barefoot through the streets, we saw more than a boy chasing a prize. My father didn’t offer commentary, but his stillness said enough. We all understood what it meant to carry responsibility silently. Majidi’s films didn’t need to be explained—they invited us to feel. Baran’s rain-soaked silence, its quiet dignity, brought us even closer. We didn’t talk much after these films. And yet, those were the most meaningful conversations we never had.

My FTII training taught me to appreciate minimalism in cinema—not just as an aesthetic but as a philosophy. Like Ray’s focus on daily life, Majidi centres the unnoticed. His characters don’t perform—they simply are. That authenticity stayed with me, both as a viewer and as a woman architect navigating tradition and self-expression. In his films, I saw a balance I also seek—in built spaces, in cultural identity, and in life.

Where Cinema Became Home

These screenings became more than just watching movies—they turned into meaningful rituals. My father embraced the quiet with gentle curiosity. My brother found a deep appreciation for the subtlety and nuance in the films. For me, Majidi’s visuals felt like architectural poetry, with every frame carefully composed. His films became a shared Divān—not through words, but through images and silences that spoke more powerfully than any dialogue.

Majidi doesn’t simply tell stories; he invites you to step inside and truly experience them. Those summer afternoons spent watching his films felt like entering a special space together. Though we often sat in silence, our connection was strong and present. Perhaps that is the true magic of cinema—to create a space where emotions can be felt without needing explanation.

 Majid Majidi: 5 Must-Watch Films That Speak Beyond Words

  1. Children of Heaven (1997)
    A tender story of sibling love and innocence, following a brother and sister navigating life’s challenges over a lost pair of shoes. Its simple narrative and poetic visuals make it a timeless classic.

  2. The Color of Paradise (1999)
    This film explores the world through the eyes of a blind boy, blending nature’s beauty with themes of love, faith, and family bonds, all captured through Majidi’s signature lyrical cinematography.

  3. Baran (2001)
    A quiet tale of compassion and sacrifice set in a harsh environment, focusing on a young man’s unspoken love for a refugee girl. The film’s minimal dialogue emphasises emotional depth through gestures and glances.

  4. The Song of Sparrows (2008)
    A moving story about a man’s struggle to protect his family and values amidst the challenges of modernisation, highlighted by Majidi’s poetic use of natural light and symbolic imagery.

  5. Muhammad: The Messenger of God (2015)
    A visually stunning epic that chronicles the early life of the Prophet Muhammad, showcasing Majidi’s ability to blend history, spirituality, and breathtaking visuals.


References

  • New Lines Magazine, “The Key to Understanding Iran Is Poetry”, 2023

  • A Social History of Iranian Cinema, Volume 4, Hamid Naficy, Duke University Press, 2012

  • Modern Iranian Poetry in Translation, Michigan Quarterly Review, 2015

  • Sacred Persian Verse, www.sacredpersianverse.com

  • Four Love Poems from Iran, World Literature Today, 2016

  • FTII Film Appreciation Workshop, Pune, 2025

  • The Art of Indian Cinema: A Study of Narrative Traditions, Film Companion, 2024

  • History of Film – Indian Cinema, Bollywood, Silent Films, Britannica, 2025

Copyright © 2025 [Ar. Pallavi Vasekar] 


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