Crimson Gold

Opening with the conclusion was a good choice, as otherwise the film's ambling pace would feel aimless. Instead, it allows us to see things through Hussain's eyes and take in the little things that push him to his terrible end.

Probably one of the best opening scenes in modern cinema. Beyond that this Kiarostami-penned story comes off as a realistic portrayal of a middle-class delivery man trying to make ends meet in an Iranian society marred by inequality and injustice. Obviously the focus is on theme rather than story, which justifies the slow pace and plodding structure in step with everyday life. Bleak, haunting and minimalistic. Or in other words: Highly impressive.

Except rough editing, the movie is brilliant.

Extraordinarily revelatory film about the social standard of this era, which is particularly unusual and alarming, but treats it all with total humanism (as expected for Iranian cinema). But this "downward fall" kind of character study isn't quite meaty enough, with some intriguing, yet laborious scenes, making this feel rather flat and stiff.

Although I'm not dying to rewatch it anytime soon, the overall slow tempo and almost catatonic lead rendering it demanding viewing, "Talaye sorkh" is still commendable for the naturalistic performances of the professional and non-professional players and a few engaging, memorable setpieces. Some of the vignettes presented are weaker than others making this an uneven film, but Panahi is capable of conveying unsettling truths with a mere apathetic succession of few wide shots and even fewer words.

This Kiarostami-penned film brilliantly underlines many of the issues and injustices facing modern Iranian society through the life of a working-class man on the verge of a desperate, violent breakdown. He's every bit the sympathetic character, with his every small act of kindness and heroism going unappreciated by those around him, and Hossain Emadeddin, a real-life delivery man and paranoid schizophrenic, gives a superbly understated performance.

Star Rating: ★★★★

I'll probably love it in ten years

A slow-burning, riveting film about Iranian class differences.

Diğer filmlerine nazaran güzel olmasa da tatlı bir Panahi filmiydi.

Work and life of Iran's middle class

A very slow moving movie, but not unpleasant. Very intense opening, the rest is quite sad actually. Acting is really good

"Crimson Gold" wasn't distributed in Iran because it was too "dark." But my main issue is that it never leaves the ground; it sticks a little too closely, too literally, to the bleak working-class reality it depicts. The pace is stately and entrancing--with many long takes of the protagonist's world-weary face accompanied by car alarms and motorcycle engines that go on forever--but the film falls short of enchanting, on account of the protagonist's lack of expressiveness and optimism.

A jewel of a film. Such a subtle, understated script from Kiarostami. Hossain Emadeddin is perfect as the anti-hero, a quiet, introverted heavy-set man, whom we are hesitant to identify as the jewel robber under the motorcycle helmet in the first scene.

"Every scene in Crimson Gold evokes Iranian oppression and, much more cunningly, the nasty "you are either with us or against us" mentality of the United States after 9/11." - Ed Gonzalez

MASTER!

Panahi was banned by Iranian government to publish this movie inside his own country (Iran). The movie is a sad story of huge gap between poor & rich in Tehran.

Really an excellent look into life in modern Iran as well as a critique of the disparity of wealth between classes.

Panahi's film is another humane entry in his body of work. The first shot captures the entire theme of the film with its frame within a frame, the camera's refusal to turn left or right, the helpless onlookers, and the disintegrating lower class robber. Each of the elements combine to highlight what the rest of the film lays out so beautifully: the inherent inequality (in power and in economics) that pulsates through Iranian society.

Jafar Panahi's work is so bleak and devastating (and critical of state policing), it's perhaps no surprise his films never screen in his home country of Iran.

In some sense an Iranian TAXI DRIVER. I suspect this is not an accident, and even that it reflects something about the history of Iranian exposure to American cinema (which is to say, about the history of the interruption of that exposure). See also: https://www.academia.edu/12687271/Review_of_Geoff_Andrew_10_2006_