Chess of the Wind is a film where the story behind its rediscovery feels more compelling than the film itself, elevating its status beyond what its merits might independently achieve. Directed by Mohammad Reza Aslani in 1976, the film was screened just once at the Tehran International Film Festival before being suppressed and ultimately banned following the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Thought lost for decades, the original negatives were serendipitously found in a junk shop in 2014 by Aslani’s children. After its restoration by The Film Foundation and Cineteca di Bologna, Chess of the Wind reemerged at the 2020 Cannes Film Festival, reclaiming its place as a vital, if flawed, piece of Iranian cinema history.
The narrative focuses on a young paraplegic heiress whose mother’s death triggers a power struggle within an aristocratic household. As the family battles for control over her inheritance, themes of greed, oppression, and societal decay surface. The story’s slow-burning first half aims to build toward a cathartic climax, but the payoff doesn’t land with the necessary emotional weight, leaving the audience with a sense of missed potential.
The film has much going for it. The historical context alone is a compelling element, but the thematic exploration of the oppression of women in Iranian society is particularly poignant. Through the power dynamics within the household and the social pressures imposed on the heiress, the film critiques the patriarchal systems that dehumanize and marginalize women. It also subtly comments on class divisions, particularly through its depiction of servants who are caught in the power games of the upper class. These themes resonate, but the film struggles to fully develop them, often hinting at larger ideas without delving into their complexities.
Visually, however, Chess of the Wind is a marvel. Aslani’s patient camera work and reliance on long takes create a mesmerizing rhythm, particularly when it lingers on the intricate details of the mansion. The home itself becomes a character, its decaying opulence reflecting the moral rot of its inhabitants. Inspired by the chiaroscuro lighting of European painters like Vermeer and Georges de La Tour, Aslani employs candlelit interiors reminiscent of Barry Lyndon to produce exquisite, painterly compositions. This meticulous craftsmanship extends to the film’s framing, with scenes staged to emphasize power imbalances and entrapment.
An intriguing structural device involves periodic cuts to a group of neighborhood women gossiping about the events. These moments provide cultural context and act as a Greek chorus of sorts, reflecting societal norms and pressures. While this element enriches the narrative, its potential feels underutilized. Still, the film’s closing shot is unforgettable, powerfully contextualizing the story within the broader societal framework. Knowing the film was nearly lost forever makes this final moment even more resonant.
Yet, despite these strengths, Chess of the Wind struggles under the weight of a weak script and uneven direction. The sparse dialogue often feels unfocused, attempting to juggle too many themes without adequately exploring any of them. This lack of clarity becomes particularly evident in the third act, which rapidly shifts between threads—commenting on class inequality, guilt, and familial greed—without giving any one idea the time to fully resonate. The result feels more like a collection of statements rather than a cohesive narrative. The direction falters in key moments, with climactic scenes, such as a pivotal jar scene, failing to generate the necessary tension or emotional impact. The loud score works hard to sell the drama, but the staging feels flat, undermining what should have been emotionally charged revelations.
Ultimately, Chess of the Wind is a film of extraordinary visual beauty and thematic ambition but lacks the narrative and emotional cohesion to elevate it into greatness. It is an important cultural artifact, offering a rare glimpse into pre-revolutionary Iranian cinema and its artistic potential. However, its flaws remind us of how vital assured direction and a strong script are to translating ambitious ideas into a truly impactful film. Given its history and restoration, the film is well worth seeing, but it leaves one yearning for the masterpiece it could have been.