Just as the prospect of taking root in one place imposes an uneasiness on the mind, so too does relocation prompt a restlessness of the soul. Neither are absolutes: habituation, some would say, determines the rigor of both provincial and cosmopolitan sensibilities. But what is clear to most émigrés — whether political, spiritual, economic, or merely circumstantial — is the anticipation that precedes and comes to define the move. Inside Amir, Amir Azizi’s second feature, touts a tender and introspective point of view, encircling its titular protagonist in a routine of wistful reminiscences and bittersweet encounters as he prepares to leave Tehran for the south of Italy. While Amir’s (Amirhossein Hosseini) girlfriend, Tara (Hadis Nazari), has already moved there to study and awaits his arrival, the sullen young man attends to the complex emotional strata awaiting his uncovering. Leaving one home in search of another brings forth not so much an emotional rupture as it does a hanging, uncertain rift.
Drawn largely to his protagonist’s inner state of mind, Azizi trains his lens on the quotidian habits and happenings under way as Amir rides to and from familiar spaces around the city. His bicycle, an extension of him, underscores the youth’s disaffection with and affirmation of youthful life: while a lack of experience abroad threatens to paralyze him, the notion of staying put — and not knowing — obliges him to wander. In between lunches and casual meet-ups with his friends Nader (Nader Pourmahin) and Nariman (Nariman Farrokhi), Inside Amir concocts an uplifting portrait of Tehran’s everyday denizens, some of whom have moved away before while others have adapted to life’s routine pressures anyhow. When Nader recounts the depressive depths of his four-year sojourn in Brazil, or when Amir’s uncle (Sohrab Mahdavi) cautions against the seductive pleasures of a foreign land (New York, in his case), Amir listens, rapt with attentiveness. Each revelation only cements the realization that, short of experiencing these for himself, he would never really know.
Tethered to a low-key register meshing harpsichord melodies with Iranian tunes, Inside Amir also sweetly documents the comforts of home, vindicating the bustling, all-too-human cityscapes of Tehran against their frequently politicized caricatures as stultifying and oppressive backwaters. Amir has two cats, each with one eye; like the physical distance between him and Tara, no seeing is complete without some degree of coordination, some semblance of coming together. And yet the distance paradoxically breeds closeness: traversing the nights and days around old haunts, Amir relives his early days of courtship, basks in the glow of backgammon rounds and afternoon naps with his compatriots, and awaits the moment when what is inside him will be dispatched outward. “People can be moved around like nothing; but none of these buildings will ever move,” suggests Tara, herself initially resistant to leaving her friends behind. For now, the nostalgia and heartbreak are confined to the future; when they manifest and become real, he will venture forth as she did, knowing some piece of home remains close, in his heart.
Published as part of Venice Film Festival 2025 — Dispatch 3.
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