The family is a delicate and often fragile ecosystem. Some can withstand strong winds, while others collapse under the slightest breeze. In Babak Khacepaşa’s In the Arms of the Tree, a couple who have been together for more than a decade must grapple with what their decision to divorce will do, not only to their lives but to the well-knit world of their two young ones. Children were created for each other. A modest proposal about an isolated family in rural Iran, but Khajeh Pasha’s film is full of sincere authenticity.
Kimya and Farid (Maral Paniyadam and Javad Ghamati) decide to stop working. The two already live a completely independent life, dividing their time between the various businesses they owned in the years they were married. But what still connects them is their two young children: Taha and Alysan (Houra Lotfy and Rayan Lotfy). The brothers almost all work as a unit, with Taha taking great pleasure in playing the role of older brother to young Alisan. They are the type of siblings who feel very united, playing games together in the fields to entertain themselves and then napping together in bed, as if they were beholden to the same needs on any given day.
As Kimya begins to solidify her plans to finally separate from Farid, it becomes clear that the brothers must be separated as well. Not only can either parent break the news to the boys, who instead spend their days babysat by their Uncle Reza (Ruhollah Zamani), a lovelorn young man who may not be the most responsible man. He clearly adores boys, and takes cues from their broad worldview. However, he also finds ways to exploit it and make some money on the side. That’s what he does one day when he asks them to recruit other kids to bet money on a very dangerous game: Who will stay on the tracks the longest as the train runs toward them?
Like many moments in In the Arms of the Tree, this scene relies on lurking danger. It is the feeling that something very terrible might happen if the boys and those around them are not careful enough. Of course, the divorce and separation that will follow poses its own threat, but Khace Pasha’s screenplay aims to imbue it with profound danger. The fear that Taha and Alisan’s carefully constructed world will collapse, and that their actual lives might be in danger, is what ultimately engulfs the entire final part of this film. Tragedy strikes and the fallout paves the way for Khace Pasha to formulate a humane call for hope, using the two young brothers as a vehicle through which to extol the value of caring parents who will do everything in their power to make sure their children return. May they be safe.
Filmed mostly outdoors – on fish farms and flower fields, on busy streets and bustling markets, and often around the type of trees implied by the film’s title – Khaçehbaşa’s film is steeped in nature. This privilege takes a long time, and the shimmering sunlight often places us in the innocent space of Taha and Alisan. The film imagines a kind of innocence untouched by their way of being in the world. It is this imbalance in that gentle subtlety that pushes the film into a more rapid melodrama, where Kimya’s secret (the root of the phobia that apparently stands between her and Ferid) explodes the gentle family drama that Khaca Pasha is drawing.
The kindness depicted in the film is perhaps too soothing. Not cloying, but clearly designed to be harmless: who, after all, would wish these boys, this family, this community, any harm? By emphasizing the centrality of a fractured family (and perhaps putting it back together), “In the Arms of the Tree” is a huge mistake. At the 41st Fajr International Film Festival in Tehran, actor-turned-filmmaker Khajeh Pasha won awards for Best Screenplay, Best Director and Best First Feature – setting up this minor family drama to become the country’s submission to this year’s International Feature Race at the Academy. Awards. There’s beauty here and a great eye for grounded performances (not just the kids; Baniadam shines as a mother unraveled by fears she can’t banish), but this Iranian domestic tale offers little more than platitudes.