Ten

The critically acclaimed movie Ten, directed by the distinguished Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami, was released in 2004 and features Mania Akbari in a leading role. The film adopts a minimalist and profound storytelling technique to paint a picture of Iranian society, focusing on the subtle yet deeply etched social and gender hierarchies persisting in its very fabric.

The title "Ten" primarily refers to the ten scenes or episodes that the film is divided into, which gradually, yet invariably, reveals the complexity and intricacies of the protagonist's life and related societal norms. The film is set in Tehran, the bustling capital of Iran, and primarily takes place within the confines of a car driven by the protagonist, a middle-class woman played by Mania Akbari. The sequences of the movie are essentially a set of ten conversations that she has with various passengers. This enclosed and everyday setting of a car is cleverly used by the director to capture some raw, unscripted, and revealing conversations.

The first half of the movie explores the intense dynamics between the protagonist and her young son. Their candid conversations reveal the son's resentments towards his mother post her divorce and re-marriage. The discussions cover a range of themes including love, divorce, traditions, and motherhood, presenting valuable insights into contemporary Iranian society.

The latter half of Ten introduces viewers to the other different women in Tehran that our leading lady interacts with during her daily life. These include her sister, a friend, a bride-to-be, and a sex worker whose paths cross with the protagonist's at various points, creating a beautiful tapestry of female narratives. As the narrative progresses, the film becomes a mouthpiece for Iranian women, emphasizing their dreams, disappointments, trials, tribulations, freedom, and lack of it, thereby showcasing social issues relevant to the contemporary world.

In line with the director's innovative method, the entire plot is subtly crafted through dialogues rather than action, marked with masterful improvisation. This lends an aura of authenticity and naturalism to the film. The narrative style of Kiarostami successfully humanizes the characters, enlightening the viewers with profound insights into their lives. The characterization is nuanced, with personalities unraveling along with the dissection of societal norms and the complex web of relationships.

Adding another layer of complexity to the narrative is the nonappearance of the protagonist herself on the screen for vast portions of the movie. This technique makes the character more of a narrative voice, thereby emphasizing the thoughts, emotions, and social critiques she presents. Her character becomes a sort of symbol—a means to explore the shadowy corners of societal norms and constraints that Iranian women navigate daily.

Throughout the film, Kiarostami masterfully uses the camera, often fixed on the face of the protagonist and other characters, capturing the raw and unfiltered human emotions playing out in the conversations. This apparent simplicity is deceptive, as it hides the depth and richness of the underlying social commentary. The camera's confinement to the car's limited space mirrors the societal and spatial confinement experienced by women, beautifully highlighting the director's sensitivity towards the nuances of femininity.

Mania Akbari, the leading lady, delivers a versatile performance, demonstrating a vast emotional range, thereby personifying the strength, determination, yet vulnerability, of Iranian women. From her arguments with her son to the empathy and understanding she exhibits towards the other female characters, her performance initiates a thoughtful discourse on traditional and modern aspects of Iran.

The ostensible simplicity of Ten belies its intellectual depth, the seamless weaving of gender politics, societal norms, and personal emotions setting it apart as a tour de force of cinema. The film is an exploration of dialogical narrative technique where no detail is insignificant, and every dialogue could be a symbol, unraveling layers of meaning. The car turns into a microcosm of Iranian society, evident in the examination of traditional roles, expectations, and the evolving status of women.

Overall, Ten serves as a compelling societal critique, and it's a must-watch for cinephiles interested in alternative cinema exploring universal themes of societal pressures, gender discourse, and the strength and resilience of women. Given this, Ten is more than a film; it's an intimate exploration of human emotions, aspirations, and the harrowing yet enlightening realities of life, especially for women, in contemporary Iran.