Persepolis

What is the price that you have to pay for your freedom? As Persepolis answers this question, it rings a bell with all immigrants who have moved to greener pastures elsewhere in the world, seeking that elusive pot of gold called Freedom - Financial or otherwise. One of the most imaginative movies that I have ever watched, Persepolis registered on my senses immediately as I felt emotions such as happiness, melancholy, horror and hope all in the space of less than 2 hours. And oh! what expressive use of the language of music and animation as we are drawn into the life of Marjane Satrapi, who along with her parents, grandmother and relatives, long for an Iran which is free from the autocratic Shah, the Iraqi war booms and ultimately the repressive Islamic government.

This autobiographical tale uses the most evocative color schema, just shades of black and white to evoke feelings of depression and longing in a country where longing for something as pure and innocent as physical touch from a loved one is considered a crime. You feel thankful for the immense deliberation shown by the directors of this little classic, Marjane Satrapi (The story is based on Ms. Satrapi's memoirs) and Vincent Paronnaud, in choosing a schema so expressive as compared to have flesh-and-blood characters enact the story. What unfolds is a tale so expressive in a language so unheard of, that it logs immediately in your senses as an unforgettable movie.

You so empathize with the life of Marjane who comes to a foreign country and is bugged at the stance taken by her new friends, for whom independence and luxuries of life are a given. You completely understand it when Marjane, in a bout of depression runs back to her country, and where she is totally torn between her feelings of love for her motherland and still wanting to lead a free life. And that's the best part of the story - the story is specifically about Marjane, but many of the millions of immigrants worldwide would relate with the story. You see Marjane as one of those countless immigrants whose experience in the West was one of frustration and miscommunication. When she runs back to Iran saying, "In the West, people don't care if you even die on the streets", somewhere in the deepest recesses of your mind, a bell tolls.

It's such a surprising and refreshing movie, while being oddly entertaining, and still it rivets the audience with the age-old questions about identity and homeland, autocracy and religious dictactorship.

It's also a pleasant reprieve to see old-fashioned, hand-drawn animation battling it out successfully with the modern 3-D Pixel animated movies. Although technically the movie might be a wimp as compared to all the other big studio animation movies, where this movie succeeds is in its tactful story telling. It makes you realise that if you still believe in your movie and if your story has its heart in its place, the end product would be fascinating. Satrapi and Paronnaud have fashioned something rough, real, raw and old fashioned, with a narrative authority that has hardly ever been used in our studio-driven, sales-hyped digital age.

It's only in a few and far-in-between scenes that the color schema changes from black-and-white to multicolored hues, during flash-forwards to an older, and lonelier Satrapi remembering vivid scenes from her childhood in a lonely Paris airport. The movie ends with Satrapi remembering the most memorable character from the movie - her Grandmom - who constantly reminds her to be "true to yourself". In the image that lingers above all in this most memorable movie of all times, the old woman unsnaps her bra and lets it drop. The gesture sends forth a shower of flower petals, her perfume of choice. And I can just smell the jasmine. And feel the tears roll down my cheeks.