Filmmaker finds comedic fodder in Iran’s ban on female soccer fans

Iran isn’t exactly the first place that comes to mind when you think of comedy. Let’s face it, in the 28 years since the Shah was deposed, we’ve come to associate Iran with “angry rhetoric,” not “rollicking satire.”

Fortunately for Iran (and for us), its people are far more independent-minded than its government would care to admit.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Iranians’ near-obsessive love of football, better known as soccer here in the United States. In the late ’60s and early ’70s, Iran fielded several world-class teams in regional and World Cup tournaments, leading to the construction of the massive Aryamehr Stadium. And while the sport flagged briefly after the 1979 revolution and subsequent war with Iraq, Iranian teams were back on their feet soon thereafter, galloping back into World Cup play and rousing a new generation of fans.

It’s pretty cool, really, to think about the average Mahmoud, hanging out with his buddies in their halfway-line seats, sipping a Coke, munching on falafel, cheering his heart out for the home team with all the gusto of a Rams fan in the dome on a Sunday afternoon.

But if you could be transported to Azadi Stadium (yeah, they rename their stadiums, too) during a football match, I wonder how long it might be before you became aware of one startling difference (and, no, I’m not counting that everyone’s screaming at the ref in Farsi).

There are no women in the stadium. None.

This is one of those crazy “no more fun!” rules handed down by the Ayatollah Khomeini back in ’79. Football matches became a no-girls-allowed affair. Female fans yelled “foul!” to no avail. The reason for the ban, explained the theocrats, was that the stands of a football match were full of men yelling often vulgar things and therefore no place for a woman’s delicate ears.

I know some women whose reply to that would peel paint.

The situation came to a head again a couple of years back in the most recent Iranian presidential election. Eventual winner Mahmoud Ahmadinejad even proposed having special sections in Iranian stadiums for women and families in order to encourage more people to attend. The theocrats then declared that it was immoral for women to see the uncovered arms and legs of the players, the president backed down, and that was that.

By now you’re probably wondering if you’ve got the wrong column. No. The movie is coming up. Appreciate what you’ve just been taught about the sociological crises surrounding Iranian football, because it will make the movie funnier. Really.

In 2005, Iran played Bahrain in a qualifying match for the World Cup. Crowds of fans mobbed Azadi Stadium, trying to get seats. Outside the stadium, filmmaker Jafar Panahi quietly went about setting up his camera crews. The government film bureau had approved his making a movie, but the movie he made wasn’t the movie he told them he
was making.

The movie was “Offside,” and it opens at the Tivoli on May 25.

Panahi turned his camera on a bunch of girls desperate to get into the match. They dress as men. One even dresses as a soldier. They hide, they beg, they try all manner of ridiculous stunts ... and all eventually fail. And therefore much of the movie takes place in the equivalent of a “penalty box,” a makeshift cell from which the girls can hear the game but can’t see it.

Even caged, they don’t give up. They cajole their guards – some slow-witted country boys – to describe the game to them, then rail against them for their ignorance of the game. One even attempts an escape during a trip to the bathroom ... only in an all-male stadium, there are no ladies’ rooms, making things awkward for both the girl and the guard who attempts to escort her.

At the end, the girls are marched off to a van, which waits to drive them to prison. (They couldn’t go any sooner, because, y’know, the GAME was on!) But ultimately, in a crushing triumph of the people’s will over the government’s rigidity, they’re saved by the same fanaticism that got them arrested in the first place. That’s pretty bold symbolism running alongside satire.

“Offside” was loosely written, performed primarily by nonprofessional actors and filmed entirely under the noses of the system that Panahi was ridiculing. He adopted many techniques more commonly seen in documentaries, which gives viewers a taste of the breathless rush with which it was filmed. It was guerrilla filmmaking at its finest.

It was, of course, banned in Iran.

The Tivoli doesn’t care what sex you are, and neither does Café Natasha’s Kabob International. This Persian paradise on South Grand is a fantastic place to grab a bite, particularly on a warm spring night when you can sit on the patio. The name says “kabob,” but I’m partial to its stews; the Ghormeh Sabzie (lamb stew with black-eyed peas) and Fessenjoon Stew (chicken in a walnut-pomegranate sauce) are particular favorites. Bring your appetite; the portions are
very generous.