In “Shayda,” its protagonist, played by Zar Amir-Ebrahimi, has fled her home in Iran, and is living in a women’s shelter in Australia. That Director Niasari is a Tehran-born woman who was raised in Australia likely adds authenticity to the proceedings. Niasari does a smart thing with “Shayda” and, though the titular Shayda has fled her husband, Hossein (Osamah Sami), the film doesn’t open with fights, abuse, or the controlling mechanisms we see in many a depicted abusive relationship. Shayda is already habituated at the women’s shelter, and Niasari spends a lot of time exploring her relationship with her daughter Mona (played exuberantly by Selina Zahednia, who appears to have made her screen debut in this film). Their relationship is a delight. It is both a celebration of Iranian culture, parental love, and, through Mona’s eyes, miraculous innocence.
New Beginnings Don’t Come So Easy
“Shayda” is slow to pick away at why its central character left Hossein, and Niasari, through writing, and Sherwin Akbarzadeh, the film’s cinematographer, show the fear Shayda feels at every moment. A haircut she gives herself (for a change or to hide?) and a trip to a local Persian market where she dons a hat and sunglasses, her furtive eyes dancing anxiously around for signs of danger, allows the audience to feel her fear. The film feels dangerous. I felt danger along with Shayda. Amir-Ebrahimi is an excellent actress, and she excels in facial and body acting throughout this film. When she teaches her daughter to dance, or encourages her to smile, we feel Shayda’s physical presence. And when she’s afraid we feel it too. It’s much more effective and realistic to display the film’s events this way, long before we meet Hossein, than the other way around.
From biography, Osamah Sami is an Iranian actor, writer, and comedian, and he gives the thankless role of Hossein his all. Hossein’s granted Saturday visitation with Mona (it’s his daughter, and he and Shayda are still married), and we see how devastating this is to Shayda, as she has previous detailed emotional, physical, and sexual abuse at his hands. Hossein starts slow, the layers peeling away to show his true self as the film progresses. At first it’s simple touches, which Shayda clearly does not want, and passive aggressiveness. Hossein badly chokes his anger, balking at the audacity Shayda has to live a life without him. He’s changed, he states, and is studying to be a doctor. He says he wants to be a family again.
Zar Amir-Ebrahimi and Selina Zahednia are a Joy to Watch
However, in subsequent scenes (one in particular where he first stalks Shayda and photographs her, later to physically threaten her), we see the reason she left in the first place. It feels ugly, and, at times, hopeless. As Hossein’s grip on Shayda slips, his anger grows. Of all the things he does, asking a crying Mona, hiding from him at a Nowruz (Persian New Year) party, who she’d prefer to live with — insisting Shayda has brainwashed Mona when she reluctantly answers ‘with Mummy’ — is the hardest to bear. Selina Zahednia is an absolute delight. You want to protect her. Try and watch this movie and not fall in love with her. It’s one of life’s impossibilities.
Of course, watching “Shayda” comes with heavy lifting, especially for those of different cultures than its protagonist. However, doing this lifting comes with great reward. Director Niasari invites us into Persian culture warmly, with foods, music, customs, and an acceptance that is palpable. And this all mixes with the warm hospitality of the custodian of the halfway house, Joyce (an immovable Leah Purcell), who puts herself in danger to help Shayda and other women at the shelter. Purcell carries her scenes well, and makes you believe she truly cares for these women. Also good here is Mojean Aria, who plays Farhad, a new acquaintance and possible love interest for Shayda — but mind you this is not a romance. Farhad exists to show Shayda she is worthy of life and love, but Hossein exists to show how easily he can take it away… how much Shayda’s life is not her own.
Empathy and Understanding are ‘Shayda’s’ Strong Suit
When I said the film requires heavy lifting, what that means is wandering into territory that may be unfamiliar or uncomfortable. You have to understand not only Shayda’s plight, but you have to understand Persian culture. Australia is not that different from the United States, where I sit and write this. But Iran is a world away. It would be easy, I imagine, to watch this film and judge certain aspects of it. Why is Shayda ostracized from fellow Iranians living in Australia, when she did nothing wrong? Why is divorce so frowned upon? And why does her mother insist that “people talk” about her as if she is guilty of something? And aside from that, during a painful arranged visitation between Hossein and sweet Mona, is it possible for us to contemplate — however difficult it may seem to us — that beneath this man’s ugliness and abuse does he truly love his daughter? Empathy comes hard in “Shayda;” but that is after all what good films do.
All-in-all “Shayda” is a necessary viewing experience. It is a wonderful portrayal of Persian culture, a wonderful portrayal of motherhood, and how hard it is to do what is right for you and your child amidst danger, abuse, and blame. Its actors carry the film, none so much as Amir-Ebrahimi and little Zahednia, and you leave the film feeling hope. Its closing shots are pensive and soulful, and “Shayda” helps you understand its themes and hardships as not a stranger’s, but your own. Which may, in fact, be it’s greatest takeaway.
“Shayda” is currently playing at the Sundance Film Festival. The festival goes from January 19 – January 29. Join us for continual coverage.
