THE STORY – Filmmaker Mahsa Karampour reflects on the experiences of her
musician brother Siavash, as they make different lives for themselves far from their
native Iran.
THE CAST – Mahsa Karampour & Siavash Karampour
THE TEAM – Mahsa Karampour (Director/Writer) & Maya Haffar (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 86 Minutes
Iranian musician Siavash Karampour drives down a road while his sister (and the film’s director), Mahsa, films him. It’s a warm day in California. They pull up at a busy junction, waiting for traffic to clear so they can enter. It’s a fitting metaphor with which Karampoor opens her debut film “Into the Jaws of the Ogre,” a tale of immigrants on the cusp of being allowed into their chosen new homes. As a gap opens, Siavash turns the steering wheel and declares the film’s title, acknowledging their journey will be exciting yet full of peril. It’s this daring devil-may-care quality that made the film a perfect fit for the independent ACID strand at this year’s Cannes Film Festival.
“Into the Jaws of the Ogre” is many things: a family history, a music documentary, a road trip movie. Mahsa Karampour’s debut film is immensely ambitious and sweetly generous. Though she focuses on her family’s exploits, she mostly keeps the camera off herself, primarily on Siavash’s journey from underground musician to relative mainstream recognition. The vast majority of the footage in “Into the Jaws of the Ogre” comes from Mahsa’s own camera, which gives it an intimacy and lived-in quality. Rise-to-fame narratives often have to overcome a believability gap, but Mahsa’s access as a family member solves that problem straight away. Both she and Siavash have had to face considerable obstacles to find their way in their respective careers, and Mahsa has her camera on hand to capture every step.
The story of the Karampours starts back in their native Iran. Mahsa, the elder sibling, moved to France in 2003 to study sociology and film, and to get out from under the prying eyes of the restrictive Khomeini regime. Her studies and passion for film drive Mahsa to film her frequent visits back to Tehran. Her parents continue to struggle on as age encroaches, while her younger brother launches his music career with his band, The Yellow Dogs. Mahsa narrates over her footage, extrapolating her fears for her family. Despite the children’s pursuits in music and academia, the Karampours’ relatability endears them to the viewer. Siavash in particular makes for a compelling subject. With his wild hair and relaxed attitude, we see him the way his older sister does; we roll our eyes at his cavalier attitude, while admiring his refusal to let anything impede him.
Mahsa shoots footage of The Yellow Dogs performing in underground clubs, the only way they could perform without incurring the ire of the morality police. The band eventually received a big break when it was featured in “No One Knows About Persian Cats,” Bahman Ghobadi’s 2010 documentary about the underground music scene in Tehran, which itself won a prize at Cannes that year. The band’s newfound exposure led them to flee Iran for the U.S., which gives Mahsa pause for thought. While she assimilates into French society and her brother begins his life in New York, what does that mean for their sibling relationship? Since neither one lives in Iran, a common bond has been lost. Mahsa ruminates on this in her narration, honestly grappling with a situation most people will be lucky not to have to contemplate. It needn’t be a separation, but Mahsa and Siavash’s paths have diverged more sharply than either could have predicted, and it’s a fascinating process to untangle alongside the director.
Siavash’s story would become more complicated in 2013 when two of his Yellow Dogs bandmates would be killed in a shooting by a disgruntled fellow musician. Through this and all the other events that move the siblings’ journeys on, Mahsa keeps her focus on her brother, all the while wishing to bring their stories closer together. This eventually leads to her visiting her brother in New York before undertaking a road trip with him. “Into the Jaws of the Ogre” retains its unabashedly subjective viewpoint throughout, with Mahsa even musing in Persian in her voiceover as she compares her brother to the mythical figure for whom he is named. Siyavash was a symbol of integrity, but his honor ultimately got him killed. Mahsa hopes the same fate does not await her brother. On the evidence of his natural charms, it seems unlikely.
Mahsa appears briefly in front of the camera to play backgammon with Siavash. It’s the ultimate expression of happiness in “Into the Jaws of the Ogre” – seeking simple pleasures with the people you love. The film is determined to focus on the good things in life; even in its darker turns, it doesn’t pretend to offer any profound new musings vis-à-vis the authoritarian regime in Iran or the greater complications of assimilating into the siblings’ chosen homes. This might feel especially slight in the context of the recent uprisings in Iran, and the subsequent U.S.-Israeli incursions, but “Into the Jaws of the Ogre” is a much more personal project than that. No matter what conflict goes on, we can all relate to a family wishing the best for one another.
