‘Woman and Child’ Review: In Iran, a Single Mom Pushes Back on the Patriarchy in Nonsensical, Self-Destructive Ways

As a cinephile, I always relish the opportunity to immerse myself in films from diverse cultures, as it’s fascinating to see how universal our dreams and emotions can be. However, there are instances where we might stumble upon a movie that feels alien, with narratives devoid of familiarity and characters whose actions seem inexplicable or otherworldly – making us wonder if we’ve stumbled into a science fiction tale instead. Saeed Roustaee’s “Woman and Child”, though set in a contemporary metropolis and boasting the most Hollywood-esque flair among Iranian directors, left me feeling somewhat perplexed. Despite its modern setting and the director’s Western-influenced style, I found myself struggling to connect with the story and the characters, which seemed to defy logic at times.

Following his film “Leila’s Brothers” being criticized at Cannes in 2022, Roustaee appears unfazed by the six-month prison sentence and the previously enforced ban on filmmaking that the government had imposed. Given his history of creating films with strong female leads, it’s not shocking that Iranian authorities find Roustaee’s brand of feminism unsettling – “Woman and Child” is his third movie featuring a resilient and independent woman, starting from “Life and a Day”. Interestingly, he has also stirred controversy on the other side by producing this film with government approval. As such, “Woman and Child” was made under certain restrictions, such as laws requiring its female characters to wear the hijab, despite the fact that its main character Mahnaz (played by Parinaz Izadyar in “Life and a Day”) might find it unacceptable in real life. Could her short haircut be seen as a form of protest?

After the passing of her husband, Manhaz has been single-handedly caring for her two children and working as a nurse at a nearby hospital. In her spare time, she interacts with a casual ambulance driver named Hamid, played by Payman Maadi who has featured in all of Roustaee’s films. Her son Aliyar, still a teenager, is already causing trouble, often arriving late to school to play dice at a local factory, one of many misbehaviors that earn him a week-long suspension from Samkhanian at school.

In Mahnaz’s unique circumstances within Iranian society, it remains unclear what societal norms dictate regarding her responsibilities towards her father-in-law (Hassan Pourshirazi), and if the roles are expected to be reversed instead. Is there a social pressure for her to remarry, or would Mahnaz’s intentions to do so with Hamid be viewed as contentious? If they decide to marry and begin having children immediately (as Hamid desires), how will their offspring from Mahnaz’s previous marriage fit into this new family dynamic? While it is common for cultures to have specific expectations in such matters, the lack of clarity in the film can leave one feeling disoriented.

Rather than taking steps to reform her wayward son, Mahnaz indulges him and harbors resentment towards those who try to correct his behavior. This situation is more severe than it might seem at first, as something shocking occurs involving Aliyar. The movie takes such an abrupt turn that it seems to have transitioned into a soap opera-like alternate reality when this event takes place. Despite the celebration of her engagement ceremony, Mahnaz isn’t prepared for her children to find out about it yet, so she leaves them with an old man instead. This is one of the few poor decisions made in the movie.

Roustaee portrays “Woman and Child” as a tragic tale, where Mahnaz’s efforts to improve her family’s life appear to lead them astray instead. Her bond with Hamid is far from a love story, as it becomes strained when Hamid encounters Mahnaz’s younger sister Mehri (played by Soha Niasti), causing him to reconsider his proposal. Although it might seem that Iranian society restricts her opportunities due to her gender, age, and social class, Mahnaz lacks the power to alter the system, leaving her in a position where she must target anyone who holds power over her. In essence, when you cannot confront the system, you’ll have to contend with the men who are oppressing you.

Following Aliyar’s accident, Mahnaz becomes enraged, colliding with Samkhanian who had suspended him at school. She shows resentment towards Hamid, who was charging homeless families to sleep in his ambulance, by threatening to ruin his business. In a rare display of defiance against patriarchy that Iranian cinema often avoids, she comes close to killing her father-in-law upon learning he had abused Aliyar without consent. Mahnaz, like a fierce lioness, is making her presence felt. However, her actions seem irrational, and the men retain their power: They can file complaints and potentially take away her custody rights.

Roustaee’s previous films stand out due to their ability to bridge the gap between Iranian culture and the Western world. His cinematic style, characterized by its energetic camera work, crisp editing, and narrative-focused storytelling, resembles American studio movies more closely than other Iranian directors who often employ a more allegorical approach to critique their government without putting themselves at risk. However, in the film “Woman and Child,” while this should make it more accessible, the characters’ psychology seems inconsistent. Viewers might find themselves bewildered rather than empathetic, as Mahnaz exhibits progressively self-destructive and irrational behavior leading to an ending that offers a sense of relief but fails to provide a satisfying resolution.

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2025-05-22 19:05