Turbulent is the first short film of a trilogy created by Iranian feminist, Shirin Neshat. In its many exhibitions, the film is projected on opposite walls and aims to convey the gender dichotomy prevalent in Iranian society. It consists of a stage, seats for an audience and two different singers — a man and a woman. As the man dressed in white delivers a passionate love song, a male audience watches eagerly, supporting his efforts and applauding his success. On the opposite wall, a woman in a black chador stands by silently. She faces an empty auditorium. As the man’s performance ends, a mysterious sound lures him away from the enthusiastic audience and he turns to face the camera.
The woman’s vocal tract begins to form an impassioned guttural sound composed of discordant breaths and ecstatic cries. The woman’s primal emotion is contrasted with the man’s orderly and socially acceptable performance. The audience disappears and not a single soul remains to support the woman in her attempt at self-expression. She cannot articulate coherent words. The guttural noises reflect decades of suppression faced by Iranian women. It is no longer that she is not allowed to speak; her voice has been subdued for so long, she is no longer able to. Alternatively, the noises made by the woman could merely imply the fact that in Iran, women are prohibited from singing publicly to a mixed audience.
The film itself, through its juxtaposition, staging and effects, conveys several complex ideas about the roles and relationships of women in Iranian society. The male singer’s lyrics are based on a text by Sufi mystic Jalal al-Din Rumi, a poet known for his emphasis on peace and individualistic religion — a type of religion shunned by the organic theory of state approach utilized by the modern Islamist regime. Sufism is a mystic form of Islam that highlights the individual’s abstract relationship to God. Yet in Turbulent, the woman delivers the song that is abstract, personal and incomprehensible to the general public.
The oppositional positioning of the two screens in Neshat’s exhibition force the viewer to engage with one performance at a time, unless he or she actively chooses to watch the man during the woman’s song or vice versa. This may imply that women’s rights cannot coexist with a patriarchal regime dominated by unrelenting males. The fact that attention is only drawn toward the woman when the man in the film turns himself could imply that only a change within the mentality of Iranian men can restore women’s rights. External interference may be futile, for change needs to develop organically.
Neshat’s film illustrates the subjugation of Iranian women as she views it. Neshat, however, was educated in the West. Is she merely propagating a Western feminist agenda that is unable to sympathize with Islamic feminism? If we adopt this culturally relativistic attitude, we are merely assuming that universal rights, such as those pertaining to the dignity of the woman, are not universal or natural. If, however, we continue to assume the premise that universal rights are natural, then by taking the position of cultural relativism and making excuses for human rights violations against Iranian women, we are re-orientalizing the Middle East by claiming that Iranians are inherently different, alien and incapable of the same human rights. Alternatively, is it a violation of human rights to protect the chastity of women? Perhaps the current Islamic regime treasures the sanctity of a woman to such an extent, the risk of exposing a woman to the dangers of the world is too great.
The fact that the woman and man are placed on two separate screens allows the viewers to be part of the performance, for they are able to tailor their viewing experience. As Nathalie Leleu points out, the viewer “actually becomes one of the actors, armed with his or her own culture, but assailed by the clues concealed in the visual device.” Subconsciously, a viewer follows whichever voice, whichever screen, he or she is drawn to. The open-ended viewing experience allows viewers to reflect on their own stance regarding issues of male/female dynamics in Iran and the various perceptions of oppression.
Near the end of the piece, as the woman’s song draws to a close, the man’s image freezes and the projected video image is stalled. The freeze frame on the man’s face draws him into the woman’s dream-like realm of the abstract and unreal. Perhaps she is a figment of his imagination? The woman concludes her song and breathes. Has suspending the man’s life liberated the woman? Although most explicitly feminist, the subtleties of staging, timing and sound in Neshat’s short film create a piece of art in which the poignancy lies most fundamentally in active engagement by the audience.