Exploring the Kurdish struggle in Makhmalbafâs Blackboards (2000)
An influential figure among the Iranian New Wave, Samira Makhmalbaf rose to prominence through The Apple (1999), a story of two girls kept prisoner in their fatherâs home for 11 years, and Blackboards (2000), an esoteric narrative exploring the struggle of a group of teachers travelling through the mountains of Iran. Her style is poetic yet charged with political and humanist rumination, the latter being particularly evident in Blackboards where she focuses on the sober reality of displaced Kurds.
 Despite its reputed neorealistic technique, the film narrative has been described by the director as surrealist (Makhmalbaf, 2000) and full of metaphors (Makhmalbaf, 2002), which constantly morph from one allegory to another. Opening with a wide establishing shot, the teachers enter the scene against a bright empty sky and endless mountainscape, carrying their blackboards on their backs. The shot is compositionally serene: the camera static, the subject centred, the soundtrack strictly diegetic â footsteps and indistinct chatter. From afar the teachers appear birdlike; the blackboards form outstretched wings, symbols of knowledge giving them flight. The impression is liberating, but is quickly fragmented by the following shot. The camera follows the teachers at a mid-shot from behind, synchronising with their heavy steps with an unpolished âreportage styleâ (Dupont, 2000). Initially there appears to be no point of view. The teachers assimilate like a flock. The shot focuses on the blackboards, the white chalk writing on them appearing like plumage on wings, however the atmosphere has now altered. From this angle, the landscape that frames them is no longer open and freeing but instead presents the barren road ahead.
 Makhmalbaf, in neorealist fashion, employs mostly Kurdish non-actors in order to maintain the authenticity of the narrative. Their features resemble the mountains which they are bound to (Makhmalbaf, 2000), ruggedly sculpted and greyed from the dust. The traditional ranku choxa garments which they wear are visibly worn and faded. The composition offers a strikingly different perspective of the previous analogy; for people whose primary motive is survival â[the knowledge] doesnât let them fly, because itâs like a heavy burdenâ (Makhmalbaf, 2000). In the heat of the eastern sun, they instead become an imitation of Jesus with the cross (Makhmalbaf, 2000) and their gait, though once lively, now appears leaden. As they walk, one teacherâs recount of the futile search for pupils and reflection on his fatherâs advice to become a shepherd establishes a fatalistic cycle of poverty that he, along with the others, is subjected to, yet his casual delivery is unfazed by his own unfulfillment. The dialogue between him and the other teacher is unpretentious and natural, with the restrained and simplistic acting style producing a tone of reflexivity characteristic to the Iranian New Wave genre. The cameraâs focus is omnipresent and objective, relaying the conversation through simple documentative panning, lingering neither on the words of either man nor on their expressions, and leaving little room for sentimentalism. The shot cuts to frame a cliff side as the teachers gather like âcrucified pedagoguesâ (Gibson, 2004) at the edge, closing up on the sudden gust of wind which billows their trousers. As an aircraft turbine is heard overhead the image of the teachers scurrying to take cover under their blackboards is mirrored by a swarm of birds fleeing. Suddenly the emptiness of the setting becomes oppressive. The parallel between the flock of birds and the teachers highlights the prevalence of instinct in their lifestyle. Though they are teachers, their circumstance leaves little room for education on their agenda. Despite never appearing in frame, the aircraft functions as the malevolent lingering presence of war tying the Kurds down to the harsh landscape, locked between two foreign lands. The simple narrative concept that unfolds in these few minutes illustrates the universal hardship so distinct to the Kurdish experience.
 The shifts in perception exhibited in the opening presents a question: is the blackboard a set of wings or a crucifix? On one hand it confines them to a desolate lifestyle as wanderers, away from their families and from their limited comforts, yet on the other hand it is a resource â though ironically being utilized for everything but its initial function: a stretcher, a dowry and a bivouac against shelling (Johnston, 2000) â and the knowledge it symbolises is a preservation of their language, their culture and thus their heritage. The question is explored through the narratives of two teachers who separate from the group in search of pupils. Reeboir joins a group of children smuggling goods over the border, children abandoned by an older generation and pushed prematurely into self-sufficiency. Said finds himself guiding a community of elders to home soil in exchange for the hand of Haleleh, a widow deluded with grief, and some walnuts.
 The smuggler boys are introduced similarly to the teachers, entering the frame carrying their own âcrucifixesâ in the form of packages of illegal goods, though unlike the teachers the establishing shot is not composed to invoke any metaphorical meanings. With a cliff face placed centrally in the shot, the steep and narrow path ahead of the group determines the focus. The symbolism serves a primarily narrative, as opposed to philosophical, purpose. Representative of the hand-to-mouth lifestyle of smugglers, their path impedes any manoeuvring â a steep drop awaiting any who may stray, for example, towards the blackboard. This is demonstrated in the final scene of Reeboirâs narrative.
 The scene opens with a close up of the blackboard being washed from dirt that once disguised it with the mountainside, in order to serve its purpose as a medium for education. The sequence that follows is jovial and almost childishly depicted: a line of pupils following a teacher, reading syllables off the blackboard on his back. There is a tender similarity between the younger generation and Reeboir. They are all dressed similarly, adopting the same pose, walking nimbly in single file. One of the boys whispers a message from ear to ear along the line. When it reaches the boy at the front, coincidentally also called Reeboir, the group of them simultaneously crouch out of the frame of the mid shot. He explains diplomatically that they are in danger â suddenly no longer enthusiastic and animated like his teacher, but instead adopting the gestures and expressions of a tired adult. Central to the frame, it is only revealed once he too crouches that the others are crawling away on all fours. On the wide flat road, the four of them look almost comical. As Reeboir, the teacher, stands perplexed and pupil-less in the next shot, a herd of goats swarm the frame, the sea of movement enveloping the boys as they sneak past two soldiers guarding the roadside. The smugglersâ uncompromising duty re-emerges in the midst of this surreal sequence of events. The pace changes suddenly as the camera follows them into action, stumbling alongside the goats, the boys shielded by the rising dust. In comparison to the serenity of the previous scene, the action feels entirely disconnected; the momentary insight into their perspective seems to take place in a separate reality. The sequence of jump cuts depicting the boys navigating obliviously through the swarm of goats is interwoven with steady wide shots of the guards by the road in a bizarre juxtaposition that is both tense and incredulous, appearing as âsomething between reality and dreamâ (Makhmalbaf, 2000). The sequence, alongside a disorientating cacophony of cowbells that accompanied it, is then interrupted by a close up of Reeboirâs hands collecting milk straight from beneath a goatâs udders. He asks the girl milking the goat for him if she would like to learn to read or write, and as he does so he is framed kneeling, with the young Reeboir studying the blackboard that rests against his back. The children either side of the teacher represent a contraposition established before: the young girl declines the offer of education in favour of herding goats, thus following the narrow path set out for her, while young Reeboir, distracted by the blackboard, diligently copies the letters. The narrative draws to a close with the young student proudly announcing he has written his name before immediately being shot down by gunfire to the sound of harsh, ethnic song (Johnston, 2000) â reality interjecting any aspirations the child may have had. Is this indicative of the teacher leading him into the wrong? It has already been established that the younger generation have been wronged by their elders and left to their own devices. In imposing on the fragile balance that the children established for themselves to try to sell scraps of knowledge hardly useful in the barren landscape (Romney, 2001), Reeboir has reinforced the divide between the generation born into conflict and his own generation who carry the hope of better times. In this narrative it is the older generation that are naĂŻve, clinging onto knowledge in a world that has no place for it (Romney, 2001), while the younger, forced towards bitter and passionless realism. Reeboirâs arc reaches an ambiguous end; whether any of them survive is not written. However, the expression on the young studentâs face mere moments before he got shot â sunken eyes softened by a hopeful smile â is imprinted as a reminder: as children, they are keen to learn, but they are not given a choice (Makhmalbaf, 2000).
 While Reeboirâs narrative explores the theme of survival, Saidâs story fixates on its antithesis: death. Though war is not a key theme of the film it serves a generic purpose, characteristic of surrealism, as an oneiric force that seizes the âcollective unconsciousâ (Makhmalbaf, 2000) of the older generation among which Said finds himself. The lives of the elders have been dominated by the wars they have borne the brunt of, and having spent their entire lives in a state of quasi-exile, their only desire is to die on home soil. As they have no purpose for education, Said finds himself in an ironic predicament where, instead of teaching, he must lead these elders through the mountains to the border, like a shepherd leads sheep, and thus becoming, at least on a metaphorical level, exactly what his father expected him to be.
 In the final scene, the camera weaves through the desolate nomads, offering âa refugeeâs-eye view of this beautiful but frightening worldâ (Weale, 2000) capturing an endless expanse of turbans and regional faraji coats. The dusky fog that cloaks them creates an immediate contrast with the consistent warm-toned hue of the mise-en-scene up until this point. Amidst the crowd a blackboard emerges, a half-obscured âI love youâ written at its centre. The composition is bleak and does not conform to ideals of âlyrical beautyâ, but instead exhibits a âsurreal powerâ (Gibson, 2001). In spite of the tragedy that plagues the Kurdish people a poetic vitality continues to grow; a deep-rooted love for their ethnic identity that gives these elders the strength to cross mountains. However, a strength rooted in cultural ties has its disadvantages. When they eventually reach their home ground in Halebcheh it is devastated beyond recognition. The bitter recollections of previous wars still ingrained deep in their common memory (Makhmalbaf, 2000) spur the elders into a state of denial, accusing Said of lying as they refuse to reconcile with yet another grief that the world has forced upon them. In the midst of their shouts, the camera cuts to various individuals in the crowd, lingering on the âgeography of their facesâ (Makhmalbaf, 2000); their skin is engraved with their pain and fatigue. The accumulating anguish is interrupted by an interlude of folk melody â shrill, raw and unrhythmic. The camera cuts to the cliffside, the path now encompassed almost entirely by the âgas-like mistâ (Gibson, 2004). The lamenting elders run in an unknown direction. There is nothing ahead of them, both visually and metaphorically. The next shot frames them running in the opposite direction. From the low angle shot they appear to be headed in the same downhill direction, but the disregard of the 180-degree rule proves disorientating, though entirely intentional in its application. As they group at the barbed wire fence, the nomads resemble shadows, disappearing into the mist. Their silhouettes fall to their knees in prayer with cries of praise towards Allah accompanying the continuous discordant hum of the non-diegetic soundtrack. The phenomenon is documented like a wave, through jump cut of one group of elders after another meeting the ground in relief. The camera eventually pans to Said, standing to the side, with blackboard shaped wings against the vast nothingness. One of the travellers walks into frame and announces that Halaleh, the widow whom Said married at the start of his journey, wishes to cross the border. With the blackboard as a parting gift, they enact a humble divorce ceremony. As they raise their hands in pledge, thunder breaks â Allahâs goodwill in their parting, or perhaps from simply pathetic fallacy reflecting the desolate denouement to the narrative.
 The closing shot is arguably the most impactful. The widow Haleleh, bereaved and delusional, framed centrally in a medium long shot facing the barren road, carries the blackboard imprinted with the phrase âI love youâ which Said had attempted to teach her. She calls out to her son who is seen playing with an explosive â the next generation of victims in this relentless cycle. Crossing the border, she carries the knowledge on her shoulders, unbeknownst to her. Thus, in the conclusive seconds of the film, a final theme is expressed: love. Despite political nuances in the struggle of the Kurdish people, Makhmalbafâs direction dedicates itself towards the inherent humanity in her subjects. The love the Kurdish people possess for their origins and their heritage overrides the perils that they face in their daily lives - hunger, displacement and the lack of education. Despite the countless wars to which they were subjected to, despite the presence of helicopters and gunmen, despite the allusions to chemical warfare, the aggressors are not once mentioned. The narrative bears no hints of sanctimonious political intellectualism. Aside from war, themes of love also frame the Reeboirsâ narratives â in the form of the teacherâs passion for knowledge and naĂŻve persistence for students, and in the studentâs belief in his teacherâs words and guidance. Above all, it is through Haleleh that the concept of love is most clearly explored, through her characterization as a mother, and the only woman in the film. She is not only illiterate but incoherent and unresponsive from her grief. Saidâs attempts to teach her the phrase âI love youâ are rendered futile as she barely meets his gaze. The focus of the camera throughout the endeavour is fixed on Said, as with every rejection he marks her with a zero. Saidâs litany of I love yous is juxtaposed by shots of her feeding walnuts to her son, unaware of the lesson. The only sentence she directs at him establishes her son as the only male figure in her life; âAt every station there is someone who gets on or off. But there is someone who never gets off. My son.â By ending the film with a shot of her and her son â someone for whom her love proves unconditional â Makhmalbaf offers a glimmer of hope to the otherwise bleak portrait of a fatalistic community (Johnston, 2000).
 The representation of Kurdish identity and the struggle that accompanies it in Blackboards is to be understood as a product of an intricate relationship between reality and metaphor. What is depicted in the mise-en-scene is essentially poetry: one hundred men returning to die on home soil is a reality in the context of many Kurds living on foreign ground, but the composition â the travellers being all men of the same generation, or being accompanied by a single woman â is imagination (Makhmalbaf, 2002). What can be interpreted at first glance is an expression âalmost like an art installation in the desertâ (Bradshaw, 2000), giving the subject the depth and grace that it deserves as a counterpart of the collective âhumanityâ.
(written as part of film studies, University of Bristol, 2021)
