Review: 'African Violet' Conveys the Ineffable

"African Violet" is a poetic lamentation, an exquisitely beautiful, melancholy film about the tapestry of love. Conveying the ineffable, it explores aging, caretaking, and loyalty. While watching, I felt clenched, perpetually on the verge of tears. By the film's end, I openly wept.

Directed by Mona Zandi Haghighi, it's an Iranian film about a woman, Shokoo (Fatemah Motamed-Aria), who takes her ex-husband, Fereydoun (Reza Babak), out of a nursing home to live with her, despite her new husband, Reza's (Saeed Aghakhani), reservations. It's a beautifully directed film with wonderful acting, especially by Reza Babak. He conveys multitudes with his eyes and subtle body language.

After Shokoo picks up Fereydoun from the nursing home, a violin joins the existing piano score, reuniting the couple in person and musically. Scenes bursting with vibrant colors punctuate the film: piles of multi-colored yarn, overhead shots of food on plates, hands separating pomegranate seeds. The film's title references Fereydoun's favorite flowers, which Shokoo buys to decorate his room.

Reza doesn't want neighbors knowing Fereydoun lives with them. Shokoo, who's estranged from her children because of divorce and remarriage, doesn't let others' opinions stop her from doing what she believes right. He questions "ex-husband" as a familial relation. Yet the two men form a conspiratorial bond after Fereydoun experiences incontinence. In an emotional scene, he looks so sad and ashamed. Reza kindly helps, saying "men are like brothers." Later, Fereydoun gives Reza money to pay off debts.

There's a great shot of Shokoo standing on the second story balcony at night and directly below her, Fereydoun sits in his window. Even apart, they remain connected and in sync. In one of my favorite scenes, Fereydoun and Shokoo sit beside each other on the balcony, on the frame's left side, while Reza stands on the opposite side, partially obscured by a door – visual and emotional space separating him from the former couple. Shokoo and Fereydoun play a game, imagining the lives of people walking down the street. They share an easy rapport, a familiar intimacy.

It's clear they still love each other but years of pain and regret tinge their connection. Fereydoun caresses dice, a memento of backgammon, which he played with Shokoo. For years, she told Reza she didn't know how to play. Shirking her past, the memory of her marriage hurt too much. Fereydoun keeps Shokoo's photo in his wallet. When he asks why she brought him home, she says her heart broke discovering he lived in a nursing home. She says, "No one loves you in there." He replies, "Who loves me? You do? You left with my best friend." Despite the woe, Shokoo remains devoted, wanting to care for him.

In some queer households, exes might live together for a period of time. But it's unusual in hetero relationships. But just because you're no longer in a romantic relationship, doesn't mean love and loyalty automatically dissipate. You can still share a bond, wanting to help each other. It's beautiful to see this kind of devotion conveyed in this gorgeous film.