I got my website up and running, a feat simply due in no small part to my creative barriers with website technology–it never is exactly what I intend, but what is?. But the problem is that not only does the end result feel disingenuous, but the journey doesn’t feel organic either. Website design, and even non-linear digital editing as I recently discovered, feels like I’m walking a parallel line to my intentions, like I’m on one side of a highway and the actual process is on the other with a large swath of do-not-cross median in the middle.
When I started out with “the blog,” I was inspired to write a couple things and thought it might be regular. Life, or lack of interest, got in the way and I found myself thinking about my website rather than engaging with it. I wondered why I made a website, why I was writing about films or media or whatever, if I was being too opininonated or off-the-cuff, and of course if my voice, was, well, my voice. I wondered. At some point I probably made my self feel better by saying, “if I’m moved to write something else on the website, I will.” And then I returned to thinking I should make it more positive, or have more of a point, or be more instructive. Self judgement. Self doubt. Thinking, not engaging.
And yet I find myself here today, somehow insprired to write about a television show that I despise. So much for being positive.
In this moment, I’m reminded of a Top Chef episode in which the contestants had the run of the kitchen of a famous chef and judge on the episode. They cooked in his kitchen and could use anything in the restaurant pantry and walk-in. One of the contestants used Oysters that were a bit off their game. I remember the contestant and judge/restaurant owner getting into an argument at judges table. “why did you have bad oysters in your walk-in?” the bratty contestant boldly attempted to shift the blame. “Yeah, the bad oysters in the walk-in are on me,” the famous chef exclaimed, “but serving them to us is on you.” Touché.
I’m at fault. I’m the guy serving bad oysters because I keep watching episodes of Tehran, the show that just finished airing its second season on Apple TV. Spoiler alert, it’s a pile of bad fucking oysters.
So what makes it so bad and infuriates me so? At it’s most basic level, it’s fraudulant. There is nothing about it that feels accurate, organic, or more importantly, nothing that feels like it belongs to it and no one else. It could be called “Tehran: A collage of rip-offs” and I don’t think expectations would be unfulfilled.
Secondly, Tehran, has an awful combination of script and producing, that results in seeing stuff you shouldn’t and not seeing what you should. The road from one plot point to the next should be filled with dramatic tension and each plot point the resolution of the former and the beginning of the next. Here we have plot points without the faintest notion of support for how or under what stakes we arrived at it.
Lastly, Tehran, is not that much unlike the state sponsored morals it aims to cast dispersion on. It is a deus ex machina style production where characters continually fall under the invisible hand of judgement. Tehran, like much of Fauda for example, fail because actions are generated in order to justify judgement and a moral standard–a story must create truthful characters that act freely–one, is free to judge after the fact, not during the creation. The mission in Tehran, the story of Tehran, and the characters in Tehran, all seem to be controlled by Mossad. This is tough.
If you don’t hit the skip the intro button, and even if you do, you are treated to a wildly agressive score that screams, “Look out for the dangerous and taboo middle east.” But not a real danger, a made for tv danger. The jingle reminds me of the transitional jingles of the Batman televsion series of the 60’s. Stuff of comic books; something dangerous and very safe in a clearly fake way.
The idea that the storyline revolves around an Israeli agent falling in love with her “mark” while obvious and over-played, is that way for a reason. It’s a scenario rich with potential for characters, context, and internal and external tension; a world where morals aren’t only tested but put in life or death situations. But in Tehran there is none of this. There is no believablity for the love between the characters, no plausability for the given context, and only convenient plot points and manufactured drama, in lieu of moral dilemma and true dramatic tension. For the main character and her love interest, there is zero uniqueness about this taboo dynamic. There is nothing about them that is opposite, or alike, or off limits, or interesting. They just are cut-outs being moved around by writers.
Homeland was great, with tightly wound writing, unique characters, and great acting. I’ve watched it multiple times. The Bureau, incredible, poetic, and genre bending, I’ve watched it twice. Tehran, unabashadly claims ownership over bits and pieces of these two series, even stealing actors from each, and then wraps itself in an Israeli propagand burka like Fauda.
But a better comp might be Bosch, the Amazon Prime series of 5 or 6 arduous seasons– and, yes, being the kind of cook I am, I used every last one of these oysters too. This show mostly co-opted actors and writing from the incredible show The Wire before aligning itself more and more closely with LAPD propaganda. Tehran, Bosch, and many others I’m sure, feel like the evil mechanations of some marketing executive, or moral authority–ordering á la carte and sucking the life out of how a whole meal comes together.
The score, I’ve mentioned is a cartoony play on some vague taboo about the middle east, and the writing is a carefully curated mess of contrived plot points. However, the production value is also curious.
I’m assuming Tehran is really shot in Tehran…or am I being ridiculous? I don’t know. There’s something incredible about any film that is set in country we may not agree with, Iran, Russia, China, etc; kind of incredible, but is this true of Tehran?
The sets are so ridiculous and the interaction with this very real and very obscure-to-the-west place feels so anonymous and without voice. From the protest scene, to the infiltration of the utility company at night, to the way that Israeli agents seem to move about freely unless the script says they can’t, and especially the central Israeli Intelligence command, something feels off. It’s like there’s nothing else going on. It feels like we’re in an alternate reality and could actually be in an undisclosed location in an anonymous city. There is nothing that feels right. Like the script and score, the production has no specificity, nothing to anchor it to the world of the story, or even, the world….There is a lack of drama and a lack of context.
As usual, going back to the Frame One™ approach, all of this is really laid out for us in the opening sequence, when the characters board the plane and then get delayed.
The lead character, though we don’t know it yet, wears burka and sits with a man dressed in a suit. Partially because of the burka, but mostly because of the camera angle and action, it is fair to say we are mostly closely aligned with the point of view of the male character. They are both Israeli agents we will come to learn.
They watch as two Israeli tourists board the plane. They don’t just catch they eye of these two Israeli agents, but they are way out of place and surely draw attention to everyone as if this were a sequal to Snakes on a Plane or 1970’s Airplane.
The camera mixes arbitrarily between postions of POV of the two Israeli agents, POV of the two tourists, and an anonymous backwards tracking shot as the tourists board the plane. We aren’t quite sure who is important, who is not, and why. We also don’t know if the significane of the plane, given the way this is shot and the prominence played to this set-piece.
This sequence epitomizes what we are in for–not only is basic information unclear, but so too are motivations and context. Ultimately, the script for Tehran will be about life and death circumstance for agents in the field risking it all behind enemy lines, and when I watch the series, none of it really seems to matter at all.
1) It’s hard to understand our geography, meaning the relationship, physically, between the seated agents and the boarding tourists is unclear. It’s confusing.
2) Because the camera is arbitrary and the acting inconsistent and out of place, relationships between the charcters is confusing.
3) Because the realtionship between characters is confusing, the tension dissipates.
When the Israeli tourists start talking loudly about simultaneously fearing prosecution in Muslim countries for being gay and filming women in burkas for the humor of it, it calls into question what the larger context is and the dramatic tension.
We are told with a text graphic that we are in Amman Jordan (in a font that feels wrong, I might add), a country friendly with Israel and one in which the two choose to board the plane. The title of the series is called Tehran, a country that is an enemy of Israel.
1) Why would these two be questioning culture of Jordan out loud?
2) In the confusion of the misplaced POV shots, it seems that the two females make eye contact and the male agent observes it.
3) Awkwardly in a contrived way, the tourist whacks the agents head with his backpack and they have an exchange.
4) This places the idea that these four are connected to the top of mind. However, the interactions thusfar, either belie this or it’s the best acting ever for undercover agents.
As an aside, I’ve gone back a couple times and I am not able to discern if in fact the tourist woman refers to the two agents by name or if it is colloquial.
Eventually the plane would be forced to land in Tehran, and as a final button on things to come, it is due to the machinations of the Mossad. As we will see throughout, they are not only controlling the plane, but the story as well. As the plane is diverted and flying over the city, one tourist turns to the other and says, “Do you think this is Tehran?” Her friend says, “I don’t know.” Exactly.
The scene felt untethered from reality. It’s inconsistent to be asked to take this geo-political espionage angle seriously while watching things that are random and almost surreal.
Presumably if the plane was designed to be waylaid in Tehran by Mossad, they would also have prevented Israeli citizens from boarding the plane. So perhaps these four are working together? They think of everything, right?
After the plane lands, the agent goes to the bathroom and switches identity with another woman. But before she can leave, lo and behold, the tourist woman enters. The tourist recognizes the agent, though she’s not supposed to, and the cover is nearly blown.
Not only are Israeli citizens allowed on the plane that Mossad knows will be diverted to Tehran, but the woman tourist is a former military colleague of the agent they are attempting to smuggle into Tehran.
Geez, what terrible luck.
There is enough awkward wonkiness to their chance encounter to make me pause. Is this part of the rouse? Are these two working together? The lack of interest on the part of Iranian security is also confusing. Risk and tension are again tenuous.
There is never a moment where it feels like the agent who just switched identities, will actually get caught. This is, in a nutshell, the pointlessness of the series. The story is plotted out for us with every dot visible to connect, and is rendered in a way that rarely doesn’t feel like a fait accompli.
Next, after not getting caught or reprimanded, conveniently, the tourists continue their brash chatty charactures and speak about the encounter out loud in the interrogation room (on the heels of being scared to death, apparently). Why would she do this? Speak out loud when they know they are being listened to? Speak out loud as if she suddenly has no idea of the seriousness of her detainment (after pleading with the flight attendant at the first word of the plane being diverted).
Quite easily the lead agent (borrowed from Homeland) quickly accesses the recording and the video footage of the bathroom. The search is on for the mystery agent. So the two tourists are in fact not working with the agents, and this is all a pointless diversion. Intersting.
Tamar escapes to her cover home. But not without having her identity tested and seeing first hand public hangings, so we know the risk of getting caught is real. However, we also know, that this won’t really happen. We know that things happen really easily and conveniently in this big dangerous world of Iran and middle east politics, when an outside force can control things.
The hacker Tamar’s been communciating with, who could be a brilliant deviant living on the fringes of society–his handle is “Sick-Boy,” turns out to be just a nice looking, trusting person, who believes in secular freedom. No tension here, other than the fact that he is of the “other” persuasion and therefore taboo. Without much effort she gets him to risk all and help her hack into the Iranian air defense system. She has to use her sexuality to do it and low and behold the fall in love, I guess.
Along the way we steal another character from The Bureau and one from Homeland, and Glenn Close takes on a lead role in season 2. Her presence is an indulgence, of sorts. But it’s a bit like eating a treat and then feeling like you ate too much and then questioning why you ever ate that in the first place.
She still has it. But she is ultimately weighed down by the foil of the script and is just another great actor struggling to imbue meaning in a context that doesn’t exist. She fights valiantly to keep dramatic choice alive, but ultimately the burden of a completely undramatic story does her in, and her character too, in a completely not set-up moment by completely not set-up character. Darn. In Tehran, it’s true apprently, you can die for any reason at any moment, and this holds true in Tehran as well.
In this final episode of season 2 when Glenn Close’s character dies along with that of several others we don’t care about in a scene void of any tension or feeling, take the moment where Tamar needs to escape the palace of the general whose son just died. There are close shots of her, there are shots of guards with guns from an anonymous position. There is random b-roll also from a random camera position. Oh my gosh, how will she get out of here?….I’ll tell you how, in deus ex machina coming full circle, there’s an announcement asking everyone to leave in an orderly fashion. There, problem solved.
The central choice for a director, is where to put the camera (which is based on what the scene is about and to whom does the scene belong). Over and over again, in Tehran, the camera is in a place that captures nothing of the central tension of a scene. Ideally, it is in a spot that helps us best appreciate and experience the point of view and feelings of the main character in a scene. In Tehran, we are hurried from one plot point to the next as if no one ever stopped to ask, what’s really going on in this scene or with this character. Because if they had, they would have realized that the script would need a rewrite and moral judgement is inherently undramatic. Tehran gives us a world where anything can happen, for any reason, at any given moment, without any connection to reality, the characters, or the world of the story, and this becomes quite silly.
I think because a television series or film is such an undertaking to make–the people, the resources, the money, the collateral damage–and the ability to convey meaning so profound, that when something that is such a mess, and shows such disregard for the medium, I feel compelled to say something. Now, back to the Batmobile.