In Mohsen Makhmalbaf‘s political drama The President, the brutal dictator of an unnamed country (the movie was shot mainly in the Republic of Georgia) is deposed in a popular rebellion and goes on the run with his five-year-old grandson. Disguising themselves as refugees, they melt into the general populace, and as they cross paths with ordinary citizens, the old man begins to reckon with all the misery he’s caused and the boy begins to see through the grandfather he once revered. The fable of a leader going incognito among his people is as ancient as the King Arthur legend and as modern as the last days of Saddam Hussein; Makhmalbaf turns it into a story at once timeless and contemporary, eventually pushing past the immediate matters of guilt and comeuppance to ask whether democracy can ever flourish amid an endless cycle of oppression and revenge.
All young children are narcissistic, though once they enter school and have to interact with classmates and teachers, most begin to develop a more humble view of themselves in relation to others. The president seems to have missed out on that little lesson, however: his official portrait is ubiquitous across the land, plastered on every available surface and prominently displayed in every home (probably out of fear more than love). “Why haven’t they hung my photo?” the grandson asks as he and the old man speed down the highway in the presidential limousine, passing a series of banners with the president’s image. Makhmalbaf can’t resist turning the knife here: to the president’s dismay, some of the banners have been torched, flames eating farther into his image with each successive portrait. Once he and the boy are on their own and the military has offered a million-dollar bounty for the president’s capture, the familiarity of his face to every citizen becomes a double-edged sword.
Directed by Mohsen Makhmalbaf
