Reminiscent of Krzysztof Kieślowski’s style, a deliberate gesture is once thrown into the universe, and we spend the rest of the runtime witnessing each and every way it impacts the surrounding people.
Written by Kenza Bouhnass Parra
Parallel Tales is loosely based on the 6th part of Kieslowski’s Dekalog. In the original, a young man spying on a neighbour living in an apartment across his ends up falling in love with her and thus decides to force the hand of destiny by setting up ways of anonymously engaging with her.
Farhadi’s adaptation is a bit more congested. It follows, at first, Sylvie (Isabelle Huppert, The Piano Teacher), a famous novelist lacking inspiration for her new novel, who starts spying on her neighbours living across the street (Virginie Efira, Vincent Cassel and Pierre Niney), to draw from her observations of the trio a fictional narrative. In parallel, Adam (Adam Bessa, Extraction), recently hired by Sylvie, becomes enchanted by her words and soon cannot decipher fiction from reality. A fine line is crossed, and the ramifications end up having devastating consequences for all.
Farhadi assembled a starry but crowded cast, which brings its own set of expectations and apprehensions. But the 2h20 runtime leaves ample time for each of the five components to develop, shine, and also explore their dynamics with the other characters. The film strikes a balance between five imposing personas, with the addition of a fleeting Catherine Deneuve (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg) in a superbly written scene, taking its time to intimately explore not only their motivations but, maybe more importantly, their reactions to the chains of events.
The film was panned by the Cannes critics, but thankfully, whatever happened in those screenings did not cross the Atlantic. For my first cinema trip back in Montreal, overwhelmed by the recent travel journey and having to fit right back into the fast-paced schedule of the city, I revelled in the more contemplative nature of Parallel Tales.
Reminiscent of Krzysztof Kieślowski’s style, a deliberate gesture is once thrown into the universe, and we spend the rest of the runtime witnessing each and every way it impacts the surrounding people. Farhadi is not in a rush, but I was not either. And in the end, it is not the hypnotic performances of Huppert and Efira that kept my eyes glued to the screen — although it might have played its part — but the intricate yet authentic writing which inherently leads to various intersections between the characters and their morality.
The seemingly innocent act of observation leads to dilemmas of agency, ethics and self-determination. How does one exist, perform, and interact when knowing that it is observed? How far is one willing to go to fit the image created by the projection of oneself? How do you stop, and can you even stop the never-ending perception by others, by ourselves through others? Where is that fine line between fiction and reality, or do you become reality by embracing that fiction? All questions that I find particularly relevant in our age of constant filming, 24h streams, and continuously rolling cameras. Questions that plague me and take over my thoughts as I try to put some sort of reality on screen through my studies, but also as I try to simply exist.
Parallel Tales is currently showing in cinemas in North America.
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