If one ever wanted to see the invisible oppressive face the Man, this film makes one see ten distinct poses of patriarch power. A divorced mother navigates the Man’s world in her car while she drives her son to his grandmother’s house. It seems that the mother, in trying to convince her son to stay at her place or atleast listen to her, is trying to convince the childish faces of this Man’s world. The faces come in the form of a child, sister-in-law, a prostitute, a dejected friend, a rejected believer, a god-fearing old lady all reminding her limitations and audacities. This unsaid narrative organically translates itself into political talks between two view points of opposite sexes, subversive or sustaining, sitting alongside. Sometimes she contests; sometimes she conforms to achieve nothing, but, survival with dignity. This confident struggle comes out in her conviction to keep driving till the point both the views shut their mouth – who is the submissive and who is autocratic is left for the viewer to decide.

From a camera mounted on the dash board, the story is divided into ten conversations from the fixed point that rotates to see the woman and the faces, bringing in the world revolving outside her car. The strength of this style, for me, was the sheer simplicity with which it allowed me to paint the unseen world. It brought out the real hidden play of politics of sexes, without moving, and in literal sense also, from the point. If nothing, it makes you pick up the camera and capture the issues that you always saw but never comprehended. Ten, beyond a feminist point, is a humanist endeavour that one cannot prevent from indulging into.  Abbas Kiarostami in turning this complex phenomenon into simple pieces of conversations strips the chauvinist society naked. And the view isn’t live-able, but, surely imaginable.

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