Crimson Gold

Iranian director Jafar Panahi's quietly angry film takes place in a Tehran that is sharply divided between the haves and the have-nots, where Hussein, a poor pizza delivery man (played by Hussein Emadeddin, who really does sling slices for a living), sees tantalizing glimpses of the wealth all around him, including a receipt for an absurdly expensive article of jewelry found in a handbag stolen by his equally desperate friend Ali (Kamyar Sheisi) from the luxurious penthouse apartment of a pizza-eating customer. Bad enough that Hussein knows he'll never spend more than mere moments in such a world, but the disdain with which he is treated--by the rich, their servants, and the authorities--is even more demeaning. Your heart nearly breaks because of the shame that Hussein carries around with him, and even though Crimson Gold opens with one desperate, violent act and then rewinds the narrative clock to show how it came about, there is no attempt made here to justify a terrible deed. Instead, with a kind of bleak despair, the film illustrates for viewers a readily (if terribly) recognizable portrait of modern disaffection that would not be out of place in New York, London, or other teeming metropolises. Recommended. (M. Johanson)