VIFF 2022 | MOVIE REVIEW: The Fourth Wall within Four Walls and "The Locust"

8/12 ForReel Score | 3.5/5 Stars

It’s a circus in Iranian director Faeze Azizkhani’s The Locust, which is to say, it’s just another day working with family, friends, and collaborators. Azizkhani’s second feature is the latest in a line of homegrown, modestly-sized, pandemic-era pictures to “turn the camera” on filmmakers and the filmmaking process, thereby facilitating something that is self-critiquing, densely referential, and playfully deconstructive. Film is a sandbox in The Locust, and while that does invite over-crowding and concentrated chaos—a feeling of “too many cooks”—it also births small epiphanies and intriguing formal experiments.

Azizkhani stars as self-insert Hanieh, a middle-aged filmmaker who has written herself into her latest script, but relinquished control of said script to her friend, Pegah (Pegah Ahangaran, herself a director and actor). But Hanieh has still agreed to play the part of her self-insert in Pegah’s production, and so fixes herself firmly in the hot seat when concerns surrounding her character arise. But are the concerns regarding Hanieh’s writing of her character? Hanieh herself? or Azizkhani herself? We can never be really sure when watching The Locust—and if we are ever meant to feel sure, Azizkhani is quick to flip the script.

The Locust sees metafictional layer upon metafictional layer folded over a single, confined setting, where family members and crewmembers alike converge to battle for creative control over a filmmaker's personal passion project (and maybe life...?). The result is something resembling filmic soup, a work loosely and instinctively edited, with both improvised moments and moments delicately crafted. Characters dropped into the pot don’t so much enter dialogues with each other as they do fizzle and bubble against each other, some adding complexity, while others peppering in aggravating flavours. Think a meta take on Emma Seligman’s recent Shiva Baby, where a steady building anxiety functions as the primary mixing agent.

Azizkhani as Hanieh, like Sennott’s Danielle, is at the centre of the pot, and thus under the most scrutiny in the film. But she is still the director, and she has an interesting set of tricks in her arsenal that allow her to hold control over her vision. Some tricks draw attention to the reflexive nature of the film, such as when Azizkhani directly addresses the camera, or when dialogue snippets are repeated to give the film a “skipping” effect. Other creative choices, such as the camerawork that vacillates between inquisitive documentation and restless drifting, make uncertain just whose perspective we are meant to be adopting. Azizkhani comes from the school of Kiarostami, and furthers the late Iranian auteur’s documentary-like approaches to moments of drama and magical realism, gently upending expectations while also transitioning effortlessly into the poetic.

The film is even bookended by direct references to Kiarostami’s Close-Up, making glaringly obvious—at least to discerning cinephiles—just what Azizkhani’s intent is. Later mentions of Tarantino, Godard, Kurosawa, and the Dardenne brothers are sprinkled in with love as well, but they may feel like overkill to anyone already rolling their eyes at the film’s reflexive nature. If you follow the festival circuit, The Locust may even come across as feeling “done before,” especially when considered alongside similarly indie efforts such as Wes Schlagenhauf Is Dying and Fucking with Nobody. Still, Azizkhani’s is a distinct enough voice that she may be able to avoid pigeonholing, especially when you take time to unpack her many commentaries.

Without spoiling too much, it can be said that The Locust explores film as an ecosystem, film as an ongoing dialogue, and film authorship (especially female authorship), as well as how that authorship is jumbled and bastardized within the tumult of these environments. It can be difficult to keep up with all of this, of course, but this seems to be what Azizkhani intends. It is possible to trust in chaos and confusion—to not judge it, and instead let it guide your process. This can often create a harsh dissonance, but this is, in many ways, is what collaboration is: a circus, a stew, a swarm of locusts.