Iranian-Australian filmmaker Noora Niasari’s debut feature Shayda has a powerhouse of a performer—Cate Blanchett— as one of its executive producers and is powered by Zar Amir Ebrahimi, who won the best actress award at the Cannes Film Festival last year for Ali Abbasi’s Holy Spider.
Ebrahimi is luminous, at once vulnerable and gutsy as an Iranian immigrant living in a woman’s shelter in Australia, struggling hard to bring up her little daughter, Mona (Selina Zahednia), as normally as she can while battling an abusive, orthodox, controlling husband Hossein (Osamah Sami) from whom she is seeking divorce. Every attempt towards a fresh start by Shayda gets thwarted and Hossein looms large as a threat having bagged visitation rights for Mona.
Things come to a head on Nowruz, the Persian New Year. Niasari fashions the film like an engrossing thriller, gradually building tension from one moment to the other. Danger lurks all through, taking the viewers to the very edge of the seat in their collective care and concern for the safety of the mother and the daughter. What will happen next? Shayda’s fears are ours as we wonder if Hossein will take Mona away from her back to Iran.
The situation in Shayda might be quite like Brian Gilbert’s 1991 Sally Field-starrer Not Without My Daughter. But unlike the American drama, Niasari doesn’t stereotype or vilify Iranians en masse. Her film is rooted in the reality, has an authenticity of cultural and linguistic context. Yet it is also devoid of any rosetinted nostalgia for Iran.
Life and home for Shayda and Mona are in Australia. Niasari remains focused on the mother-daughter bond, delicate, tender yet defiant in trying to seize the day and setting each other free from their enforced captivity. It’s heartbreaking to see Shayda confront her own worst fears while trying to build a future devoid of despair for her child.
And it’s equally heartwarming to see her emerge triumphant against all odds. Hope lights up even the darkest of moments. It’s not just Ebrahimi’s own performance but the reciprocity with Zahednia which is the key. She doesn’t just carry herself well through the film but brings out a convincing turn from her on-screen daughter also.
The portrayal of patriarchal mindsets rings a bell, underlined with a universality that would echo in India, especially as we find Shayda’s mother coaxing her to reconcile with Hossein. He will be a doctor soon. But will he be qualified enough to be a good man? Drawn from personal experiences of having lived in a shelter herself, Niasari casts a humane, compassionate and empathetic gaze at her two protagonists as well as the community, the sorority and sisterhood.
She makes an assured debut. The tone might be emotional but without any overt melodrama, manipulation or sentimentality taking centre stage. Niasari’s aesthetic is simple, unassuming and modest. Ultimately it is all about the basic human dignity and rights of a woman—right to her body, the way she wants to dress or be, her choices in life and the right to the custody of her kid.
Niasari’s film opened at Sundance Film Festival where it won the audience award in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition segment. It went on to play at Locarno and Melbourne and recently featured in the centrepiece segment of the Toronto International Film Festival. Most significantly it is Australia’s submission for Best International Feature for Oscar 2024. It is a welcome case of cross-cultural tales of settlers gaining the spotlight and cinema becoming a true-blue bridge across ethnic divides.