By Ziad Nawfal

Iranian director Bahman Kiarostami presented his film Javad, a bittersweet tribute to popular Iranian singer-in-exile Javad Yasari, as part of Sharjah Biennial 11’s series of commissioned films, Seven Short Plots.

Yasari is a “kooche baazaari” (a singer of popular music), who started singing in 1972. He released five albums in Iran before the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and was prevented from performing in his home country after this time. Kiarostami’s short film starts with Yasari performing to an audience of exiles in Dubai, and proceeds with a heartfelt assessment of the singer’s daily peregrinations.

How did the Biennial approach you regarding this project?

Bahman Kiarostami: I met Rasha (Salti, co-curator of the Biennial) in Istanbul in 2010. We talked at the time about the original ideas that she had for the Biennial. I didn’t think, right there and there, that the film I had in mind would fit with her plans. It wasn’t until May or June that I thought, well, this particular film might work in the Biennial’s framework. I find it convenient that thanks to the Biennial, I was able to make this film. It would not have seen the day without it.

So you had the idea for Javad before Rasha Salti approached you?

Yes. We had also shot part of the film. The Biennial’s commission allowed us to finish editing it.

To which extent were the Biennial curators involved with the film?

Rasha came to Tehran and I showed her a very rough cut of the film. She spoke about it freely, and not from the vantage point of a curator. Her ideas mattered to me, and when we discussed the film, it resembled the kind of dialogue I would have with any member of the audience, while watching one of my works. At this early point, all ideas and opinions matter, because the film is still on the table. Every new audience enables you to watch it differently. Rasha was influential not only as a curator, but mostly as a friend.

The themes of the Biennial (plot, treason) are unusual this year. How do you feel that the film connects and intersects with these themes?

In terms of trespassing, what I find interesting about Javad in Tehran is that you can hear his voice in any taxi you get into, any truck you drive in… But no one knows what he looks like, because he is not allowed to exist, apart from illegal cassettes. Hence the idea of going to find the man behind the music, a man who is living a shadowy life in Dubai. It’s also extraordinary that his music was reproduced in films, and his songs were allowed to be sung by other people, but he himself is not allowed to sing them.

Do you find that there is a double level of trespassing in the film? On the one hand, Javad is a trespasser and cannot sing in his own country, and on the other you’ve shown someone who is not allowed to appear in the public eye?

I don’t think there is such a level. Javad has been singing in Dubai for thirty years. His professional life has already been taken away from him, and the best years of his life are now behind him. He was really honored and excited to be part of this film, and there was this sense that, well, ‘what more can you possibly do to me?’ There is no question of him going back to Tehran after thirty years. In a way, making this film felt like paying a personal tribute to him. It was the least we could do.