Nasser Taghvai cannot be defined solely as a filmmaker. He moved fluidly between the worlds of cinema, literature, and photography—yet his connection with literature was never broken. From “Captain Khorshid” (1987), an adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s “To Have and Have Not”, to “Tranquility in the Presence of Others” (1972), based on Gholam-Hossein Saedi’s “Nameless and Elusive Apprehensions”, Taghvai viewed cinema as an extension of literature. This deep interrelation erased the boundary between poetic cinema and social realism in his work. His films form a world where poetry is reflected not only in images, but also in words.
The stormy sea wrapped in morning fog, the desert echoing with the sound of wind through palm groves, and the tangible details from the book “The Summer of That Year”—such as shadows stretching across the asphalt or the scent of oil mingling with fresh bread—are all rendered with meticulous care. Likewise, in his films, from the play of light and framing to the silence and movement of the characters, there is poetry. This poetic sensitivity to detail has shaped Taghvai’s distinctive style, in both cinema and literature.
Man Against Fate and Nature
In “Captain Khorshid”, some of the most striking moments arise not from dialogue, but from silence. The Captain’s quiet defiance—against fate, against the sea, against death—becomes a form of wordless poetry. Each moment of silence serves as an inner reflection, compelling the audience to perceive what remains unspoken. In this visual world, the sea, the fog, the boat, the waves, and the wind are not merely a backdrop; they are the film’s own poetic language.
The rhythm of “Captain Khorshid” is itself poetic—slow, contemplative, and flowing like the waves. Taghvai employs gentle cuts, long takes, and deliberate camera movements to guide the viewer toward an inner revelation. The Captain is more than a southern man; he embodies humanity’s struggle against fate and nature. His death at sea is not a defeat, but a return to his origin—the sea serving as both his source and his destination. In “Captain Khorshid”, poetry emerges not from words, but from images, silence, and the motion of the natural world. The film’s closing—the Captain’s passing at sea—stands as the pinnacle of this poetry: a quiet, bitter, yet magnificent farewell.
A Layer of Nostalgic Poetry
“My Uncle Napoleon” (1976) is Taghvai’s first television series and continues to hold a cherished place in the collective memory of many Iranians. While the series functions as a social satire—skewering superstitions, conspiracy theories, the moral decay of the upper class, and cultural idiosyncrasies—it distinguishes itself from other social comedies through a subtle layer of poetry that flows throughout its narrative, atmosphere, characterizations, and the perspective of the narrator. This poetry is not always conveyed through language, but rather through the way the world is perceived and the interplay between reality and dream.
The most striking indication of the series’ poetic quality lies in its treatment of time: the story unfolds in the past, but not a strictly historical or precise past. Instead, it is filtered through the consciousness of a young narrator, experiencing love and longing, whose memories inadvertently embellish reality. Here, the past returns solely through memory and desire, as if the narrator recounts the world from the perspective of a tender, heartbroken, and yearning child, attempting to weave a sweet dream from the bitter truths surrounding him.
Stillness as Resistance
“Tranquility in the Presence of Others” is a film that, from its very opening, reveals Taghvai’s pursuit of a poetic world amidst violence and stillness. The film’s poetry does not reside in grand events, but in the quiet and subtle rhythms of human existence. “Tranquility in the Presence of Others” is not a story of dramatic occurrences; rather, it immerses the viewer in a cycle of stagnant lives and confined situations.
Through careful staging, light, and silence, Taghvai constructs a world in which even the smallest gestures—such as drinking water from Manijeh’s hands, the colonel’s anxious glance at a slaughtered chicken, the madmen lurking behind a window reminiscent of “The Cow” (1969), or the symbolic presence of madness on the margins of society—convey poetry. It is through framing, stillness, and the spatial presence of characters that the film transforms everyday moments into a visual and emotional lyricism.
The Poetics of Confinement
In “Unruled Paper” (2002), the daily life of a family of four—with all its details and contradictions—transforms into a poetic world. The dreamer and storyteller woman blurs the boundaries between reality and imagination, weaving fantasy seamlessly into the fabric of everyday life. Every gesture and object carries meaning beyond its surface: the blood of a fish on paper, a child’s playful movements, or the woman’s meticulous efforts to organize the home—all serve as expressions of the struggle between freedom, creativity, and constraint. With precise mise-en-scène and long, contemplative shots, the film intertwines time and space, simultaneously revealing the flow of life across past and present.
The Filmmaker as Poet
If poetic cinema can be defined as a form that springs from literature and uses image to express inner truth, Nasser Taghvai stands among its purest Iranian voices. His characters—lonely captains, despairing colonels, weary couples—embody humanity’s fragile confrontation with existence. Nature, silence, light, and movement in his films are not ornaments; they are vessels of emotion and meaning—poems written in the language of cinema.
