Nobility is a defining quality of Seyed Reza Mirkarimi’s films. Whether a story unfolds in a room or a house, in a city far from the capital, or in the desert, it maintains a profound sense of authenticity. This is the work of a filmmaker whose cinema remains graceful even under the weight of heartache.
Mirkarimi began his career with short films, and after gaining experience in this field, he made his professional debut with “The Child and the Soldier” (2000). From his very first film, he employed a cinematic language that evokes a distinctive sense of mood and feeling. The film earned acclaim and awards both in Iran and abroad, including at the Asia-Pacific Film Festival and the Nantes Three Continents Festival.
Early recognition at the beginning of his career did not lead Mirkarimi toward filmmaking for festivals; rather, it drew him closer to his homeland, its cultural elements, and the atmosphere of Iranian life. The director’s second film, “Under the Moonlight” (2001), tells a story of uncertainty—the doubt humans harbor about themselves, their capacities, and their strength. This is conveyed through lyrical language, the heart of the night, fleeting glances, and the ambiguities that arise. In this film, Mirkarimi’s frame-by-frame shots do more than narrate a story; they evoke a feeling within the viewer that is impossible to ignore.
“Here, a Shining Light” (2003) delves into an allegorical and poetic universe through the eyes of the story’s male protagonist. The surrounding space and environment contribute to capturing a fresh cinematic experience, marking a new phase in Mirkarimi’s work that becomes fully realized in his third film.
In his fourth film, Mirkarimi shifted the story to the desert, where the silence of the vast landscape becomes the hidden sound in “So Close, So Far” (2005). The desert’s colors dominate the film so profoundly that they redefine the use of long shots in Iranian cinema. Fatigue, helplessness, and the ways of confronting this despair are all captured in the striking cinematography of Hamid Khozouie Abyane amidst the heart of the desert. Mirkarimi’s poetic sensibility flows through his cinema—in moments of solitude, at the depths of despair, and in the emergence of hope. “So Close, So Far” received awards at the Fajr Film Festival and ultimately won the Iranian Cinema House Awards.
The director took a significant step in his career with “As Simple as That” (2008). After exploring a different cinematic world in Iranian cinema with “So Close, So Far”, he brought the camera inside the intimate spaces of the home. The challenge lies in capturing the mother as she navigates her role with her child, managing all her responsibilities within the household. Yet the camera moves in harmony with the height and weight of the characters, the heaviness of their hearts, and the breadth of the roles they play. In this film, the house is not a confined space that restricts the director’s vision; rather, it becomes an environment that, alongside its stillness, moves with the characters and creates a world alongside them.
In “A Cube of Sugar” (2011), Mirkarimi’s camera remains largely inside the house, occasionally peeking outside, but what truly matters here is the mood. The color palette, music, costume design, production design, and performances all seem to harmonize with the film’s score. Everything is as beautiful and soothing as Pasandide, played by Negar Javaherian, sitting on a swing—her gentle movement calm before the storm, before the chaos. The family gathers, and the wedding transforms into mourning; even the music and costumes change in tone and color. As the film draws to a close, Pasandide wanders through the alleys between adobe houses, lantern in hand, her momentum carrying her chador back and forth. Throughout, the film rides on the harmonious breeze of poetry and music.
“Today” (2014) is a story of waiting. In the film, it is said that in the waiting room for women giving birth, there is no measure of time long enough to endure the pain, and this waiting becomes even more arduous when a woman faces it without the hope of companionship. The bitterness of a woman’s life is infused with hope: the birth of a child. Meanwhile, Youness, the taxi driver who empathizes with her, communicates through his silence—or chooses not to speak—so that his unspoken words become the speculations of those around him. The film presents a tension between hope and despair, silence and speech.
“Daughter” (2016) tells a story of rebellion, with the father leaning against the wall as a symbol of the heavy burden he has carried. “Castle of Dreams” (2019) and “The Night Guardian” (2022) are centered on human experiences: a solitary individual undergoing trials, narrating the depths of human resilience.
Reza Mirkarimi’s cinema captures the essence of authenticity and Iranian sensibility, offering a subtle and humane perspective on human life, choice, and moments of turning. One can immerse oneself in the vivid colors of his films and be carried along by the delicate way he portrays the human experience.
