Massoud Bakhshi is known equally well for his award-winning fiction films – most recently, Yalda, A Night for Forgiveness [+lire aussi :
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interview : Massoud Bakhshi
fiche film] won the World Cinema Dramatic Grand Jury Prize at Sundance in 2020 – and for his personal documentaries. Ten years earlier, the Iranian filmmaker debuted the mid-length flick Our Persian Rug at IDFA, and now, he presents All My Sisters, a film shot over 18 years, immersing us in the lives of Bakhshi’s two nieces, Mahya and Zahra, as they grew up in Tehran from 2007 to the present day. The documentary, world-premiering in IDFA’s International Competition, addresses the sisters as now grown-up women in their early twenties, in a consistently self-reflexive way. Bakhshi himself narrates, presenting a film to them (effectively a film within the film), composed of the home-video footage he has shot since they were little and could interact with the camera.

There will be, he explains early on, some formal tricks like zooming in and cutting off parts of the frame to conceal their bodies and hair, as per the country’s restrictions on women’s visibility. In the opening scene, his voice-over invites the audience to join a private viewing experience, albeit indirectly, but throughout the film, it becomes evident that when the footage takes up the whole screen, we’re essentially sharing the point of view of these young women we see here as toddlers. This switch, carefully aided by the precise flow of the editing, takes us in and out of the “film within the film” and allows us to see the images projected on a white wall, with two figures in silhouette watching mostly in silence. All My Sisters is more focused on the archival material than on the particular acts of viewing, but the meta-narrative device enables the documentary to pose further questions about spectatorship and ethics, without explicitly asking them.

Adults don’t make an appearance in All My Sisters, at least not in the way the girls do. The voices of Bakhshi and the girls’ grandmother and mother are heard from off-screen, and an occasional hand or back of the head can be seen, but the faces we spend the 78-minute running time with are those of Mahya and Zahra, as well as that of their baby sister Maleka, born only later in the movie. Prioritising the children means keeping the camera at their height and following them during their playtime; occasionally, their uncle interjects by asking questions, but only after society has started to do so first. There’s also a timeline of political events available to those who pay attention – on the radio or overheard on the TV, talks of crises and elections mean more to the viewer now than they did to the young girls back then, naturally.

As a whole, the documentary gradually unfolds a chronology of life and growing up as a woman in Iran, showing snippets of the religious stories they hear from their grandmother, and their punitive undertones. Talk of sin and sinfulness becomes more present as the years go by, and of course, the first headscarf is brought out before puberty hits. In those early scenes, the headscarf feels like a novelty and a desired sign of growing up, but not long after, ambivalences mount as the restrictions on womanhood take effect. By the end of All My Sisters, Mahya and Zahra are voicing their political concerns in front of their grandmother and between themselves as proud supporters of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement, and while the film doesn’t suggest the path towards emancipation is in any way clear or easy to follow, it presents a distinctive, inspiring look at the genesis of Iranian women’s resilience and resistance.

All My Sisters was produced by Amour Fou (Austria), Sampek Productions (France), Brave New Work Film Productions (Germany) and Bon Gah (Iran). Pyramide International is in charge of the film’s international sales.