Inside Amir

“To get better you have to run, so fast you pass through everything,” suggests a quote at the start of Inside Amir, but just as appropriate would be Shakespeare’s, “Parting is such sweet sorrow” as Amir Azizi’s latest film is as much about appreciating the things you are leaving behind as anticipating what’s to come.

Amir (Amir Hosseini) loves riding through the streets of Tehran on his pushbike. Beyond his work as a cycle courier it offers him a freedom, something he doesn’t need to verbally articulate, since we see him freewheeling with his feet up on the frame or riding non-handed despite the busy traffic, often carrying his helmet rather than wearing it. In life terms, however, he’s standing at a junction, awaiting a visa so that he can travel to southern Italy to be with his girlfriend Tara (Hadis Nazari).

Phone conversations make it clear that he absolutely wants to be with Tara but still, it’s a wrench. We can see why when we meet his friends Nader (Nader Pourmahin) and his boyfriend Nariman (Nariman Farrokhi), whose deafness is just part and parcel of Amir’s world. His buddy Pirouz (Pirouz Nemati), meanwhile is facing physical restrictions, confined to a virtual “perimeter” by an ankle tag.

Azizi takes a loose approach to his drama, which is all about emphasising the inconsequential as much as the dramatic and offering a slice of Iranian life that shows the regime’s rules prohibiting alcohol, drugs, along with a raft of restrictions for women rarely apply behind the closed doors of people’s homes. Episodes from the here and now with his friends and his uncle (Sohrab Mahdavi) flow alongside memories of spending time with Tara so that the film travels backwards and forwards while still remaining in the present.

Amir’s world has a warm appeal, from his one-eyed cats that laze about like miniature tiger-skin rugs to the food and poker nights he shares with his pals. Azizi brings bonding to the fore, so that it’s easy to want to pull up a chair and just join in these casual conversations, as Nader discusses why he returned to Iran from Brazil or Amir’s uncle observes the difficulties he encountered on his own migration journey.

It may be episodic but its themes are so well connected that it never feels disjointed. It’s easy to undervalue this kind of writing in cinema, since it offers a humanistic exploration of existential themes rather than hinging on dramatic developments. But it should perhaps come as little surprise that a jury headed by Dag Johan Haugerud (Sex, Dreams, Love) – whose own films explore the importance of connection and understanding – should have awarded it the GDA prize at Venice Film Festival. Hopefully that award will help Azizi’s sensitive exploration of relationships get the attention it deserves.

Reviewed on: 07 Sep 2025