Even after a thousand nights, Scheherazade still has a lot of stories to tell: of brewing beer in Tehran, of being reduced to one's Afghan roots, of the impenetrability of German bureaucracy (which seems much more impenetrable when it comes to seeking asylum than when making a documentary). A cheerful and absurd documentary narrative about Germany and its image of the Orient.

The animated Scheherazade of the framing story still has a lot of tales to tell: about a gay teenager from Syria who is afraid that his application for asylum in Germany will be rejected; about a Berlin-born artist who only speaks German but is consistently reduced to her Afghan roots; about an Iranian-born beer brewer who wants to bring the (alcohol-free) Bavarian brewing culture, which she was introduced to as a student in Munich, to Tehran; and about the director herself, who verbally wrestles for her documentary with the off-screen voice of an unseen film instructor. With subtle humour and a feeling for the absurdities of everyday German life, director Narges Kalhor deconstructs not only the nation's image of the Orient but also the notions of what a documentary film has to be. It is a film about storytelling and, at the same time, a search for identity conducted by the filmmaker, who herself immigrated from Iran to Germany.

Reviews and Commentary:

"Once upon a time there was a country with a long history, with stories of a thousand and one nights. Once upon a time there was Iran, the cradle of the art of brewing. Wait a sec... what? Yes: in the west of today's Iran, beer was brewed about five thousand years ago – or at least that's what Wikipedia says. And that's also the hook of the film, In the Name of Scheherazade or The First Beer Garden in Tehran. Narges Kalhor, an Iranian who herself migrated to Germany, presents a film at DOK Leipzig that abounds with historical reappraisal, oriental-occidental absurdities, and the ironic deconstruction of her own method of cinematic representation. (...) This film, in any case, is humorous. In many scenes, one remains unsure of whether what one's watching is truly a 'documentary' or a mockumentary – indeed, throughout the narrative Kalhor even plays with this glimmer of uncertainty quite nimbly. Many of the scenes are absurd to the edge of tolerability without ever completely crossing over, with the possible exception of a scene involving a clichéd art performance in which some inflatable sex dolls pee on the newly veiled performance artist – but here, too, the film is gloriously self-ironic. This is also true of the meta-level that rears its head throughout the film: a fictitious instructor from Kalhor's film school who repeatedly interrupts the running film. As the frame remains frozen, he comments on what supposedly doesn't work in her film. His comments are very 'German', stylistically immobile, and evoke a certain vicarious sense of shame. In between, she even completely changes the dramaturgy and begins her narrative anew, entirely according to his ideas. In other words, Kalhor suddenly structures the film like a straight reportage in line with her instructor's view of how a documentary should be. In doing so, she not only effectively deconstructs her own medium, but also casts a critical eye upon it. No: rarely has a meta-plane been applied as accessibly, as loosely and as wittily as in this film." (Maximilian Enderling, radiomephisto.de, 28.10.2019)

Narges Kalhor in an interview with Behrang Samsami, Politik & Kultur 06/2019: Behrang Samsami: You immigrated to Germany in 2009 because of your political involvement in the Iranian Green Movement. You had already made films in Iran. What do you think are the biggest differences between filmmaking in Iran and the Federal Republic?

Narges Kalhor: In Iran, if the film material isn't approved, you have no chance of getting government support and big producers. In this case, the film has to be privately financed. Usually, it's the directors themselves or relatives that produce it, because it's not possible otherwise. Even if the rough cut and the finished film get approved, it's still not yet certain that the film will reach the cinemas. There are good films that have been at the Ministry of Culture in Tehran for ten years or more because they don't get authorisation. But when they are finally shown in the cinema, they're very successful and run for a long time. My sister, for example, went to the last screening of a film after midnight because it was important to her. In other words, Iranians are aware that there's a good film but that they have no access to it – so they fight for it. (…)

Do you feel that there are certain expectations of you as an exiled director?

If we have a mother tongue other than that of German, we're more independent than the people who come from here. We have access to something that most people here don't know about. I experience the people in this country as very interested. Nevertheless, it's a matter of luck. I happened to meet an Iranian artist who came to Germany as a refugee a long time ago. Nobody knows him, even though he paints magnificent abstract pictures. I've wondered why – no one expects an Iranian to create images like that. Cubist or abstract images can also be painted by Germans. As far as I'm concerned: if I produce experimental films, which everyone here could do, I have a lot of competition. But when I stick in a mini-piece of Iran with two sentences in Persian, I'm in the category of a hundred people.

In the Name of Scheherazade plays with "exotic blasts". In one scene, exhibition visitors stand around an artist with curly hair and a darker complexion. A curator introduces her and asks her questions, after which the audience has the chance to speak. Meanwhile, small stones are dropping from the installation – from some naked rubber dolls hanging in the air. The artist tries to explain her approach and stance. The whole thing can be understood as a critique of the clichés and expectations that the mainstream German society has of "exotics". Withal, the film plays with and satisfies these clichés in order to be a viewer success.

That's right! Hence the title, In the Name of Scheherazade, or the First Beer Garden in Tehran. In the end, when the camera pulls back, I reveal what's not right with everything that was previously claimed: beer does not come from Iran. But the viewers go to the cinema specifically because they want to see the film, "Beer Garden in Tehran". All of that is a conscious choice. Steinbrecher, the instructor in the film that is only heard off-screen, states at one point that the film title must have a connection to the director's home country. I don't only criticize Western expectations, but also myself. I criticise the artist with the rubber sex dolls as well as those that have nothing to do with the Middle East but produce "Middle East art". Above all I would like to say to them: "You cannot speak the language. You've possibly never even been there. And when, you buy your underwear in a bazaar in southern Tehran, hang them up at home in Europe, make a show out of it, are successful and publications write about or interview you. Actually, however, you're just taking away the space from real Middle-Eastern artists who're sitting in a basement and creating something without anyone in the West knowing about it."

Keyword, "home" – the director in the film says that she has two homes, Bavaria and Iran. Does that also apply to your?

After ten years in Munich, I haven't developed a real sense of home. I know the language and can communicate with the people. But the German culture was very, very difficult to learn. Originally, I had a lot of friends who were German. Ten years later, most friends now have a migrant background. My husband is American. I don't need a replacement for Iran, either. I can take it the way it is.


Frederik Lang (IN 16.07.2020)

Production Country

Germany (DE)

Production Period

2018/2019

Production Year

2019

color

color

Duration

Feature-Length Film (61+ Min.)

Type

Documentary

Genre

Fantasy / Fairy Tale, Heimatfilm, Biography / Portrait

Topic

Home, Europe, Discrimination / Racism, Migration / Flight / Exile

Available Media

DCP, Blu-ray Disc, DVD

Original Version

German (de)

DCP

Subtitles

German (partly), English (en), French (fr), Spanish (Latin America), Portuguese (Brazil), Chinese (zh), Russian (ru), Arabic (ar)

Blu-ray Disc

Subtitles

German (partly), German (full), English (en), French (fr), Spanish (Latin America), Portuguese (Brazil), Chinese (zh), Russian (ru), Arabic (ar)

DVD

Subtitles

German (partly), German (full), English (en), French (fr), Spanish (Latin America), Portuguese (Brazil), Chinese (zh), Russian (ru), Arabic (ar)