Refugee Drama In the Land of Brothers Paints Brutal, Beautiful Lives
An expansive, three-act observation of Afghan refugees struggling to make their lives under the oppressive discrimination in Iran, In the Land of Brothers is an assured dramatic debut from filmmakers Raha Amirfazli and Alireza Ghasemi. Bolstered by an impressive cast playing across time-jumps, In the Land of Brothers’ entrancing script and evocative settings sweep you up in the tragic yet steely vignettes. As the stories connect across themes and families, building to a cathartic climax, the resoundingly tragic and consuming humanism is woven with enough subtlety to avoid melodrama. A brutal, beautiful depiction of life persevering against bigotry, filmed with a painterly eye and a compassionate heart.
The interlocked stories of Mohammad (Mohammad Hosseini), his crush Leila (Hamideh Jafari) and her older brother Qasem (Bashir Nikzad) play out across decades, allowing each performer the spotlight as they deal with a specific incident of second-class (non)citizenship. Each scenario is immediate and vital thanks not only to sharp, observational writing from Amirfazli and Ghasemi, but through the choices of setting. Evocative, colorful locations—ranging from a snowy Bojnord school to a greenhouse’s steamy rows of tomatoes to the two-story Bandar Anzali beachhouse of a rich Iranian family—represent the diversity of the country, itself housing a diversity of experience that its native-born residents exploit rather than appreciate.
As we wind up the wintery roads after Mohammad is plucked from school by a predatory police force, as we zoom out to view the deeply segregated vacation villa where Leila later works as a domestic, as we climb the hilly streets of Karaj with Qasem, we are transported. These skillful environmental choices, framed with rich and vibrant realism, directly lead into the script’s strongly sketched incidents, which define each of In the Land of Brothers’ three acts.
As the characters are each backed into corners by their tenuous position in their new country, we’re already on edge. Some deal with death, others with violence. All have the unspoken undercurrent of insecurity. One wrong move, and you’re gone. But their problems—as dire as they are—pressure them with the subtle, undeniable power of an entire culture. Their options whittle away while we barely realize what’s happening. When they each reach the point of no return, where confrontation is inevitable, we’re as surprised and resigned as they are.