text: Panahi, whose previous films such as The Circle and Crimson Gold have seemed to range from dour to grim, has produced in his new Offside a funny, obstreperous, joyously chaotic ensemble piece that ends on a note of liberation and heartfelt fun  yet the movie deals with material quite as challenging and relevant as anything else he's done. By focusing on a group of ardent girl soccer fans caught sneaking into the pre-World Cup Bahrain-Iran match in Tehran stadium, Panahi brings up issues of national spirit and independent-mindedness, and the contradictions  and sheer absurdity  of the regime's religious gender apartheid in a world of modern competition with a majority youth population and urban girls who increasingly think for themselves.<br /><br />As the film opens we breathlessly join one of the girls in a bus, with a father pursing a lost daughter. This one has a disguise and has national colors as warpaint, but we cringe with her in the knowledge of what's going to happen: she's still easily spotted. The thing is, most of the men around don't really care. Still, rules are rules, and once they try to make it through the various checkpoints on the way into the big stadium the would-be soccer girls, or some of them anyway, get rounded up and held in a little compound upstairs in the stadium by some mostly young, green, and rustic soldier-cops who have no idea how to deal with these big city girls' independent ideas and would rather be watching the game  whose roar we constantly hear in the background  themselves. Each girl is different  represents a different set of reasons for wanting to break the rules and different ways of doing it. One wore a soldier's uniform and got into the officers' section. One is tough and masculine and mocking and provocative (she could pass for a pretty boy, and teasingly hints at that: "Are you a girl or a boy?" "Which would you like me to be?"). One doesn't care very much about soccer but went to honor a dead comrade. One (Aida Sadeghi) is an ardent soccer player herself  and so on. These Tehrani girls are stubborn and smart and they walk all over the uptight rural lieutenant in charge of them (Safar Samandar). One of the rural cops (Mohamad Kheirabadi) takes the girl soccer player to the men's restroom (of course there's no ladies'), forcing her to wear a poster of an Italian football star as a mask. A comedy of errors and chaos follows in which the girl escapes.<br /><br />Later a spiffy looking van comes with an officer who directs the cops to take the girls to the Vice Department  violating sexual segregation rules qualifies as vice. A male gets mixed in with them  a kid who's chronically guilty of smuggling fireworks into the games. The van turns out not to be so spiffy: the radio aerial is broken. But one cop holds it in place so they can listen to the increasingly heart-stopping reportage. Cops and prisoners are all joined in a common excitement now. There's no score, the game goes to penalty kicks, and the winner will go to Germany.<br /><br />In the background through all this is a real game, a real stadium, and real masses of young men crazy about the outcome of this event. The excitement is tremendous, and the streets are jammed with cars and flags and a milling mob of supporters praying for an Iranian win and united in their excitement.<br /><br />What makes this film so good, as may be clear by now, is that it's shot during the evening of an actual game with a real finale that turns everything around. This, in contrast to Panahi's previous highly calculated narrative trajectories, is spontaneous vérité film-making that improvises in rhythm with a captured background of actual events and sweeps you into its excitement in ways that are quite thrilling.<br /><br />The essence of Offside is the disconnect between modern world soccer madness and retro-Islamic social prohibitions repressing women  the latter existing at a time when young Iranian women are becoming part of a global world in which females participate in sport and share in the ardor of national team spirit. How exactly do you reconcile the country's ambition to become a modern global power with social attitudes that are medieval? A lot of Offisde is astonishingly real, including the way everybody tries to talk their way out of everything. The director's decision to inject young actors into an actual sports mega-event leads to a stunningly effective blend of documentary, polemic, and fiction that is too energetic to seem to have a bone to pick, and that ends in a way that's brilliant and moving.<br /><br />I've had reservations about Panahi's films before, but this one kicks ass. Panahi does something remarkable here. He critiques his society, presents an unusual drama, and touches our hearts with a sense of a nation's aspirations.
query: Panahi, whose previous films such as
gen_review:  The Circle and Crimson Gold have seemed to range from dour to grim, has produced in his new Offside a funny, obstreperous, joyously chaotic ensemble piece that ends on a note of liberation and heartfelt fun  yet the movie deals with material quite as challenging and relevant as anything else he's done. By focusing on a group of ardent girl soccer fans caught sneaking into the pre-World Cup Bahrain-Iran match in Tehran stadium, Panahi brings up issues of national spirit and independent-mindedness, and the contradictions  and sheer absurdity  of the regime's religious gender apartheid in a world of modern competition with a majority youth population and urban girls who increasingly think for themselves.<br /><br />As the film opens we breathlessly join one of the girls in a bus, with a father pursing a lost daughter. This one has a disguise and has national colors as warpaint, but we cringe with her in the knowledge of what's going to happen: she's still easily spotted. The thing is, most of the men around don't really care. Still, rules are rules, and once they try to make it through the various checkpoints on the way into the big stadium the would-be soccer girls, or some of them anyway, get rounded up and held in a little compound upstairs in the stadium by some mostly young, green, and rustic soldier-cops who have no idea how to deal with these big city girls' independent ideas and would rather be watching the game  whose roar we constantly hear in the background  themselves. Each girl is different  represents a different set of reasons for wanting to break the rules and different ways of doing it. One wore a soldier's uniform and got into the officers' section. One is tough and masculine and mocking and provocative (she could pass for a pretty boy, and teasingly hints at that: "Are you a girl or a boy?" "Which would you like me to be?"). One doesn't care very much about soccer but went to honor a dead comrade. One (Aida Sadeghi) is an ardent soccer player herself  and so on. These Tehrani girls are stubborn and smart and they walk all over the uptight rural lieutenant in charge of them (Safar Samandar). One of the rural cops (Mohamad Kheirabadi) takes the girl soccer player to the men's restroom (of course there's no ladies'), forcing her to wear a poster of an Italian football star as a mask. A comedy of errors and chaos follows in which the girl escapes.<br /><br />Later a spiffy looking van comes with an officer who directs the cops to take the girls to the Vice Department  violating sexual segregation rules qualifies as vice. A male gets mixed in with them  a kid who's chronically guilty of smuggling fireworks into the games. The van turns out not to be so spiffy: the radio aerial is broken. But one cop holds it in place so they can listen to the increasingly heart-stopping reportage. Cops and prisoners are all joined in a common excitement now. There's no score, the game goes to penalty kicks, and the winner will go to Germany.<br /><br />In the background through all this is a real game, a real stadium, and real masses of young men crazy about the outcome of this event. The excitement is tremendous, and the streets are jammed with cars and flags and a milling mob of supporters praying for an Iranian win and united in their excitement.<br /><br />What makes this film so good, as may be clear by now, is that it's shot during the evening of an actual game with a real finale that turns everything around. This, in contrast to Panahi's previous highly calculated narrative trajectories, is spontaneous vérité film-making that improvises in rhythm with a captured background of actual events and sweeps you into its excitement in ways that are quite thrilling.<br /><br />The essence of Offside is the disconnect between modern world soccer madness and retro-Islamic social prohibitions repressing women  the latter existing at a time when young Iranian women are becoming part of a global world in which females participate in sport and share in the ardor of national team spirit. How exactly do you reconcile the country's ambition to become a modern global power with social attitudes that are medieval? A lot of Offisde is astonishingly real, including the way everybody tries to talk their way out of everything. The director's decision to inject young actors into an actual sports mega-event leads to a stunningly effective blend of documentary, polemic, and fiction that is too energetic to seem to have a bone to pick, and that ends in a way that's brilliant and moving.<br /><br />I've had reservations about Panahi's films before, but this one kicks ass. Panahi does something remarkable here. He critiques his society, presents an unusual drama, and touches our hearts with a sense of a nation's aspirations.
reference_response:   The Circle and Crimson Gold have seemed to range from dour to grim, has produced in his new Offside a funny, obstreperous, joyously chaotic ensemble piece that ends on a note of liberation and heartfelt fun  yet the movie deals with material quite as challenging and relevant as anything else he's done. By focusing on a group of ardent girl soccer fans caught sneaking into the pre-World Cup Bahrain-Iran match in Tehran stadium, Panahi brings up issues of national spirit and independent-mindedness, and the contradictions  and sheer absurdity  of the regime's religious gender apartheid in a world of modern competition with a majority youth population and urban girls who increasingly think for themselves.<br /><br />As the film opens we breathlessly join one of the girls in a bus, with a father pursing a lost daughter. This one has a disguise and has national colors as warpaint, but we cringe with her in the knowledge of what's going to happen: she's still easily spotted. The thing is, most of the men around don't really care. Still, rules are rules, and once they try to make it through the various checkpoints on the way into the big stadium the would-be soccer girls, or some of them anyway, get rounded up and held in a little compound upstairs in the stadium by some mostly young, green, and rustic soldier-cops who have no idea how to deal with these big city girls' independent ideas and would rather be watching the game  whose roar we constantly hear in the background  themselves. Each girl is different  represents a different set of reasons for wanting to break the rules and different ways of doing it. One wore a soldier's uniform and got into the officers' section. One is tough and masculine and mocking and provocative (she could pass for a pretty boy, and teasingly hints at that: "Are you a girl or a boy?" "Which would you like me to be?"). One doesn't care very much about soccer but went to honor a dead comrade. One (Aida Sadeghi) is an ardent soccer player herself  and so on. These Tehrani girls are stubborn and smart and they walk all over the uptight rural lieutenant in charge of them (Safar Samandar). One of the rural cops (Mohamad Kheirabadi) takes the girl soccer player to the men's restroom (of course there's no ladies'), forcing her to wear a poster of an Italian football star as a mask. A comedy of errors and chaos follows in which the girl escapes.<br /><br />Later a spiffy looking van comes with an officer who directs the cops to take the girls to the Vice Department  violating sexual segregation rules qualifies as vice. A male gets mixed in with them  a kid who's chronically guilty of smuggling fireworks into the games. The van turns out not to be so spiffy: the radio aerial is broken. But one cop holds it in place so they can listen to the increasingly heart-stopping reportage. Cops and prisoners are all joined in a common excitement now. There's no score, the game goes to penalty kicks, and the winner will go to Germany.<br /><br />In the background through all this is a real game, a real stadium, and real masses of young men crazy about the outcome of this event. The excitement is tremendous, and the streets are jammed with cars and flags and a milling mob of supporters praying for an Iranian win and united in their excitement.<br /><br />What makes this film so good, as may be clear by now, is that it's shot during the evening of an actual game with a real finale that turns everything around. This, in contrast to Panahi's previous highly calculated narrative trajectories, is spontaneous vérité film-making that improvises in rhythm with a captured background of actual events and sweeps you into its excitement in ways that are quite thrilling.<br /><br />The essence of Offside is the disconnect between modern world soccer madness and retro-Islamic social prohibitions repressing women  the latter existing at a time when young Iranian women are becoming part of a global world in which females participate in sport and share in the ardor of national team spirit. How exactly do you reconcile the country's ambition to become a modern global power with social attitudes that are medieval? A lot of Offisde is astonishingly real, including the way everybody tries to talk their way out of everything. The director's decision to inject young actors into an actual sports mega-event leads to a stunningly effective blend of documentary, polemic, and fiction that is too energetic to seem to have a bone to pick, and that ends in a way that's brilliant and moving.<br /><br />I've had reservations about Panahi's films before, but this one kicks ass. Panahi does something remarkable here. He critiques his society, presents an unusual drama, and touches our hearts with a sense of a nation's aspirations.<|endoftext|>
query_reference_response: Panahi, whose previous films such as  The Circle and Crimson Gold have seemed to range from dour to grim, has produced in his new Offside a funny, obstreperous, joyously chaotic ensemble piece that ends on a note of liberation and heartfelt fun  yet the movie deals with material quite as challenging and relevant as anything else he's done. By focusing on a group of ardent girl soccer fans caught sneaking into the pre-World Cup Bahrain-Iran match in Tehran stadium, Panahi brings up issues of national spirit and independent-mindedness, and the contradictions  and sheer absurdity  of the regime's religious gender apartheid in a world of modern competition with a majority youth population and urban girls who increasingly think for themselves.<br /><br />As the film opens we breathlessly join one of the girls in a bus, with a father pursing a lost daughter. This one has a disguise and has national colors as warpaint, but we cringe with her in the knowledge of what's going to happen: she's still easily spotted. The thing is, most of the men around don't really care. Still, rules are rules, and once they try to make it through the various checkpoints on the way into the big stadium the would-be soccer girls, or some of them anyway, get rounded up and held in a little compound upstairs in the stadium by some mostly young, green, and rustic soldier-cops who have no idea how to deal with these big city girls' independent ideas and would rather be watching the game  whose roar we constantly hear in the background  themselves. Each girl is different  represents a different set of reasons for wanting to break the rules and different ways of doing it. One wore a soldier's uniform and got into the officers' section. One is tough and masculine and mocking and provocative (she could pass for a pretty boy, and teasingly hints at that: "Are you a girl or a boy?" "Which would you like me to be?"). One doesn't care very much about soccer but went to honor a dead comrade. One (Aida Sadeghi) is an ardent soccer player herself  and so on. These Tehrani girls are stubborn and smart and they walk all over the uptight rural lieutenant in charge of them (Safar Samandar). One of the rural cops (Mohamad Kheirabadi) takes the girl soccer player to the men's restroom (of course there's no ladies'), forcing her to wear a poster of an Italian football star as a mask. A comedy of errors and chaos follows in which the girl escapes.<br /><br />Later a spiffy looking van comes with an officer who directs the cops to take the girls to the Vice Department  violating sexual segregation rules qualifies as vice. A male gets mixed in with them  a kid who's chronically guilty of smuggling fireworks into the games. The van turns out not to be so spiffy: the radio aerial is broken. But one cop holds it in place so they can listen to the increasingly heart-stopping reportage. Cops and prisoners are all joined in a common excitement now. There's no score, the game goes to penalty kicks, and the winner will go to Germany.<br /><br />In the background through all this is a real game, a real stadium, and real masses of young men crazy about the outcome of this event. The excitement is tremendous, and the streets are jammed with cars and flags and a milling mob of supporters praying for an Iranian win and united in their excitement.<br /><br />What makes this film so good, as may be clear by now, is that it's shot during the evening of an actual game with a real finale that turns everything around. This, in contrast to Panahi's previous highly calculated narrative trajectories, is spontaneous vérité film-making that improvises in rhythm with a captured background of actual events and sweeps you into its excitement in ways that are quite thrilling.<br /><br />The essence of Offside is the disconnect between modern world soccer madness and retro-Islamic social prohibitions repressing women  the latter existing at a time when young Iranian women are becoming part of a global world in which females participate in sport and share in the ardor of national team spirit. How exactly do you reconcile the country's ambition to become a modern global power with social attitudes that are medieval? A lot of Offisde is astonishingly real, including the way everybody tries to talk their way out of everything. The director's decision to inject young actors into an actual sports mega-event leads to a stunningly effective blend of documentary, polemic, and fiction that is too energetic to seem to have a bone to pick, and that ends in a way that's brilliant and moving.<br /><br />I've had reservations about Panahi's films before, but this one kicks ass. Panahi does something remarkable here. He critiques his society, presents an unusual drama, and touches our hearts with a sense of a nation's aspirations.<|endoftext|>