EVERY end of the semester, I screen the acclaimed 2007 French-Iranian animated film “Persepolis” in my World Cinema class, on the topical pretext of understanding film co-productions and politics in non-Hollywood cinema.

The underlying context is of course the film’s source material – a biographical coming-of-age graphic novel by Iranian exile Marjane Satrapi, who also co-directed the film with French director Vincent Paronnaud.

You cannot help but to be moved by her story of going up on cusp of the Iranian Revolution, which deposed the dictatorial Shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, only to be succeeded by the present Islamic regime.

The film, a story that couldn’t have been filmed or made in its native country, was France’s Best Foreign Film entry for the 2008 Academy Awards (it only received a Best Animated Film nomination eventually).

While the historical backdrop of her personal life is insightful, the film’s theme of resistance and dissent in the face of political turmoil and transition is what makes it a must-see for not only film students’ but also those interested in understanding human society and politics.

Iranian filmmakers are noted for their tenacity and creativity in circumventing their censors and producing profound and beautiful films that have contributed to modern cinematic history.

What’s interesting about “Persepolis” is the film is also a great 101 lesson about how Iran became the country it is today, and how political and cultural resistances are important in any given nation especially in the face of politically-induced religious fanaticism and dogmatism.

The lead character – Marjane, the author – is a tenacious and precocious girl who idolizes Bruce Lee and Michael Jackson and later embraces punk rock in her teens.

These are seemingly trivial things in Bolehland but she and her peers have to conceal them with the consolidation of the Islamic regime during that era.

She grows up with liberal parents and relatives, some of whom were victims of the Shah’s persecution, and she bears witness to their tales (even the death of an uncle) when they visited her household.

Her parents eventually decide to send her abroad for her studies – her final moments with her grandmother and the advice she peppers throughout the film are poignant yet stark.

The film also importantly explores themes about gender, sexuality, family and testing one’s ideals and resolve in the face of regime changes.

It is no secret that PAS idolises the Iranian Islamic revolution and there are many parallels can be made with Malaysia, the obvious being a Muslim majority nation with a deep pride in its cultural history.

However, the part about history is where Malaysia differs starkly: since my early adulthood, I was convinced that history as a subject in school was purposely boring (it was a about memorising dates and names during my KBSM era) so that we would not be interested in our own history and not question anything.

I only discovered I loved history after I finished high school because I was often told to shut up when I queried about something in my Sejarah classes.

Coupling that with being badgered by the general ideological “jangan lupa” (“do not forget”) reminder most Malay youths deal with all the time made me question: forget what?

The bigger question I needed answered was actually the “why” all the hustle about “not forgetting” when we aren’t even encouraged to ever question anything worthwhile in our history curriculum in school.

Or at least, that history written by the winner.

This is where the arts and culture remains an important reservoir of historical knowledge outside of the official narratives.

At the end of the screening, one female student said the film was “sad” while another international male student felt the film was “inspirational”.

The varied responses are always interesting because of the fact that when your personal and oftentimes private stories are told in a mass medium, it takes on a larger life of its own that may be well beyond the intentions of the filmmaker, writer, artists, songwriter etc.

The film would have also taken on a different meaning if Anwar Ibrahim didn’t make the cut for prime minister (and this is still not a given in our increasingly cowboy politics).

The film is a reminder of what may await Malaysia two generations down the line if the direction of our local politics post-election sets adrift into the wilderness.

Finally, it was one of Marjane’s grandmother’s advice that stuck with me this round: “Everyone has a choice.”

Indeed, we do, but only the principled will take ownership of their own choices and not point the finger.

In Malaysia at the moment, we have a dearth of principled leaders… oops, sorry, I mean “dealers”. – December 2, 2022.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.