In Iran women are treated like second-class citizens, particularly those who refuse to adhere to the series of laws regarding their appearance. When Niloo (Yasaman Mohsani) goes out one day with a friend, she finds herself on the receiving end of a morality police officer’s poor temper–and things only get worse from there. Nillo will now be subjected to things that she never believed to be possible–but she will Rise again.
Rise is controversial; it’s aggressive, abrasive, and horrifying. Rarely does a second pass where viewers aren’t subjected to the gut-wrenching visuals that Writer-Director Shirzan puts on display. Shirzan doesn’t pull any punches, and she discusses a topic that could potentially put her in harm’s way–and this is why she chooses to use an alias rather than her actual name. That allows her, however, to be brutally honest and not to have to beat around the bush. She dives in, head first, and attacks the absurd things that she has witnessed in her country with massive vigor. Rise can be incredibly difficult to watch, likely to warrant a visceral response that transcends the entirety of the film–but it’s a necessary evil.
At the very end of the film, after the credits roll, three words sit still on the screen for a long time (at least longer than I think most would have anticipated they would be there). Those words are “Women,” “Life,” and “Freedom.” These are words that are not synonymous with one another, and Rise aims to express this–and in those final seconds, just before the film finally fades to black, viewers understand. This seems like such a small part of the film, and in terms of how long the scene plays out, it is–but there’s so much meaning hidden in these few seconds. This part of Rise is one last attempt to grab hold of viewers–and while I believe that everyone would have already been captivated by this film, it works so well to give just one final nudge.
It’s important that Rise get up close and personal, and the viewers can feel the discomfort that those characters would have been feeling throughout. With that, there is little room for mistake in this regard–and Shirzan and her Director of Photography Luke Jacobs do a stellar job of bringing this film to life. During the scenes that depict physical altercation, I’m not entirely sure how Jacobs was able to capture all that took place. I often felt like I was Niloo, like I was the one on the receiving end of something terrifying, almost like I was physically present in the story. The intimate nature of the film is so important to its success, and Jacobs is one of the primary reasons why this aspect of Rise is so successful.
In a film where the writer-director is worried that her life is in danger as a result of making it, I think it goes without saying that the content is dark and powerful. While the opening seconds of the film (which aren’t entirely necessary) depict something lighthearted, the remainder of the film is exactly what you’d expect–harrowing, horrifying, and challenging to stomach. Rise tackles a topic that is talked about often, but isn’t always shown in such a physical way. With Mohsani as the face of the film, she, too, puts herself in harm’s way–but she sells every second of her performance, and she guides a film that, with incredible vigor, expresses something so breathtaking and important.
Written & Directed by Shirzan.
Starring Yasaman Mohsani, Motserrat Barriga, Aidan Bristow, Esmeralda Colette, Sebastián Ghandchi, & Ariane Gray.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/10
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