The Iranian-American director of Circumstance, a teenage lesbian romance, knows a thing or two about causing trouble, and the link between desire and dissent
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© Peccadillo FilmsNikohl Boosheri and Sarah Kazemy in Circumstance.
"I've always had the tendency to cause trouble," says Maryam Keshavarz. The 36-year-old is speaking down the line from an idyllic-sounding writers' retreat in Portugal, but with the release of Circumstance in the UK this week, the first-time director is not far from controversy.

Set in Iran, the film follows two girls: Atafeh, raised in a rich liberal home, and Shireen, an orphan whose conservative uncle cannot afford to pay for her schooling. Against a backdrop of hedonistic underground parties, the teenagers' intense friendship spills over into a passionate love affair. With homosexuality illegal in Iran (punishable by lashings or even death) their happiness is threatened by the jealousy of Atafeh's brother, an ex-drug addict who finds religion and with it the ear of the powerful morality police.

Replete with illicit sex, drugs and alcohol, and furious in its criticism of the Islamic Republic, the movie's forthright style has made Keshavarz a target of death threats, she says. On the phone from Lisbon she sounds nonchalant, saying that "in the beginning I was more frightened", but insisting there have been so many, they no longer have the power to terrorise her. Yet she is cautious enough to refuse to reveal much.

The film has also aroused passionate feelings in audiences at screenings, leading to arguments and walkouts. "There were screaming matches," she laughs. "One woman said: 'This film is such bullshit - it doesn't look like Iran, smell like Iran, taste like Iran.' I didn't even have a chance to reply when this woman in her 20s stood up and shouted at the older woman: 'I just came from Iran and it's people like you who are ruining our country because you deny the reality.'" But her taboo-busting has also won critical acclaim (and the audience award at the Sundance film festival) while fans, many of whom are young women, have sent scores of "long, emotional, emails".

Which is why, despite knowing that the focus on sexuality meant it was unlikely she would be able to travel to Iran again - "You can always go to Iran," she tells me sardonically, "you can't necessarily leave" - Keshavarz, who is bisexual, was determined to show the physical interactions of the lovers.

"As a young girl growing up, I had not seen much on film I could identify with - not just sexual orientation but sexuality.

"They [Atafeh and Shireen] are brave individuals - they don't stop, they have an emotion and attraction and even though it could get them into trouble they still do it."

Critics of the film have questioned its authenticity, and whether Keshavarz has the right to tell stories about Iran at all, given she does not live in the country. She was born and brought up in the US, where her parents have lived since the 1960s. But, she says, she has spent much of her life shuttling between the countries - spending summer holidays, a year of school, and time as a visiting scholar at the University of Shiraz in Iran. That has not always been easy.

"It was difficult on both ends to be from two countries that hated each other," she admits. "In Iran it was all 'death to America' and 'you are American, you are a spy!'"

After students stormed the US embassy in Tehran in the 1970s, and took staff hostage, the family's US neighbours violently rejected them.

Maryam Keshavarz
© Peccadillo Films Maryam Keshavarz, director of Circumstance.
"Before Iran was this exotic place, but after the hostage-taking we were the enemy. My brothers were beaten up, they threw things at our windows and slashed our tyres," she recalls. "They harassed us constantly. We were ostracised - it was a very, very difficult time."

While some of her brothers (she has seven) responded by hiding their ethnicity, the experience sparked Keshavarz's lifelong attempt to "translate" the two countries to each other. Many of the film's characters were based on relatives or people she met during her time in Iran. The parties Atafeh and Shireen attend reflect her nights out with her cousins - ironically the only time she could do as she pleased as a teenager.

"I grew up in an ultra-religious family. I wasn't allowed to date boys or go out after a certain time. When I made the varsity basketball team as a freshman - which was a big honour - you had to wear shorts, so my dad said: 'You can't play.' Of course I did what I wanted, but I constantly had these huge battles with him. Luckily I had really liberal-minded brothers who helped me a lot.

"My father always had a tight hold on my social life - he was afraid I would be corrupted, but Iran is supposed to be an Islamic state so they thought 'what trouble could she get into?' The craziest parties I have been to and the wildest things I have done were definitely in Iran."

Circumstance, she says, reflects issues in both cultures - and, while set in Iran and scripted in Farsi, its glossiness and pace feel American. The theme of surveillance - which culminates in Atafeh's brother secretly filming the lovers - addresses anxieties around officially sanctioned snooping in the US during the Bush era. But it also illustrates how the state can permeate and sour family life; she first saw this, aged seven, when she spent a year in school in Iran at the height of the Iran-Iraq war.

"Questioning children was very prevalent at the time," she tells me. "They would ask 'do your parents pray?' or 'do you watch foreign movies?'

"I was from the school system in America, where you are taught to always tell the truth no matter what. But [in Iran] you knew you could get your family in trouble so you learned to lie.

"I was very much aware that I had to be careful what I said - and it creates a schism in children, I think. I had cousins who were my age and some of them were," she drops her voice and whispers, mock-dramatically, "the spies for the teachers."

Circumstance's strength is in the exuberance of Atafeh and Shireen, filled with adolescent fantasies of escape (and cringeworthy lad's mag-style fantasies of each other: all matching underwear and high heels) and their rebellious rush to dance, drink and break rules. At times the sensuous hair-flicking and the way the camera lingers on their beauty feels overdone and their interest in liberalism seems to extend only to their right to party.

But the film frames their insistence on following their desires, whatever the consequences, as a powerful form of dissent; Atafeh tells a friend: "Here anything illegal becomes politically subversive."

Set immediately before the protests of the Green movement swept through Iran, the film aims to show where the anger behind the demonstrations came from. "In Iran where the state controls your behaviour ... they want you to dress a certain way, and not speak to people of the opposite sex in the street - of course the personal is political," explains Keshavarz, "in a more explicit way than anywhere else."

And while the film's religious figures may be hypocrites and villains, Keshavarz is uncomfortable with anyone reading the film as anti-religion. Rather, she says, it is about how power and politics corrupt religion.

"It is happening in the US too, with the intrusion of the church into politics. It's a global problem. Look at the focus on birth control in America. It's 2012, and we are talking about the pill - are we joking?"

Crucially, she says, it is her religious parents, who refused to impose their beliefs on her, and insisted she think for herself, who gave her the strength to make a film her mother disapproves of. "I think my parents taught me to be a fighter - I just don't think they intended it to come out the way it did."

Circumstance is released in the UK on 24 August