That brief, deeply touching passage from The Color of Paradise by Iran's Majid Majidi defines one key element of a film that speaks guilelessly, directly and poignantly to profound yet widely accessible spiritual themes. On its surface a sweet, somewhat predictable but, finally, wholly disarming film about a blind boy who sees far better than the worried, self-absorbed father who holds the key to the boy's hopes and prospects, this is an immensely encouraging shot from the East. It is a movie for all who despair that movies no longer provide encouragement. Unsurprisingly, it comes from Iran, where artists manage to get around the most harsh censorial mandates to spread a bright light. Nominated for an Academy Award, the first Iranian film in modern times so honored, The Color of Paradise speaks in gorgeous, visually specific terms to a multitude of dichotomies.
Vision is the subject.
Majidi works a perfectly stunning landscape to the advantage of his endearing, chubby-cheeked young hero. When all is well with this child of exquisitely attuned ears, balletically sensitive fingers and infallible instincts, the Earth itself in both his urban school setting and rural home sings a benediction. This is a film that twins the mood of nature and human nature in deeply affecting ways not seen at the movies since the heyday of David Lean. It's a feast for both eye and spirit, not to be missed by those who love film and, especially, by those who love children. A Sony Pictures Classics release, in Farsi, with subtitles.