Firouzeh Khosrovani’s autobiographical documentary opens in a grand yet sparely decorated drawing room, painted in white. As an unhurried tracking shot pulls viewers into the strangely still space, a sense of mystery permeates: nearly all the furniture is draped in ivory-coloured cloth. Indeed, the film operates like an act of unveiling. Peering through the hazy gauze of the past, Khosrovani explores her parents’ complex against the shifting tides of Iranian history.
On her wedding day, Khosrovani’s mother, Tayi, married with only a photograph of her father, Hossein, present, while he was studying radiology in Switzerland. Having grown up in a religious household in Iran, Tayi was never at ease in Geneva, where she spent the early years of her marriage. When she became pregnant with Firouzeh, she urged a reluctant Hossein to return to Tehran, right on the brink of the Iranian revolution.
