The Runner
Studio: The Criterion Collection
March 20, 2024
Web Exclusive
Photo from The Criterion Collection
By Amir Naderi The Runner is a quiet, powerful and visually stunning depiction of childhood realities and dreams. The 1984 film is a masterpiece of post-revolutionary Iranian cinema, introducing many cinematic techniques and thematic ideals that continue to play a large role in Iran's incredible film output.
The Runner follows Amiro (Madjid Niroumand), a young orphan who lives on a boat in a port town and does odd jobs – like shining shoes, selling water or picking up empty bottles at sea – to make ends meet. Between these jobs, he often follows the same routine. He hangs out with a group of young boys who constantly race and compete with each other to see who can run the fastest. He heads for the harbor, where he calls out to the boats, begging them to take him to whatever lies beyond the sea. He goes to the town's small airport, where he watches the property's only personal plane in awe – cheering when it flies over or even just at the sight of it on the tarmac.
While The Runner opting mostly to capture moments of Amiro's daily life rather than a strict and defined plot, a small narrative runs throughout the film, particularly during its second half. Hoping to learn how to read, Amiro enrolls in night school. The sequences of the child at school are rarely seen in the film. When he is, Naderi juxtaposes images of Amiro martially rehearsing the Persian alphabet with those of him running around the port city. The prevalence of this contrast shows Amiro's willingness, both mentally and physically, to understand more about the world and its workings.
It's hard to imagine a more appropriate title for the film than The Runner, because the shots of Amiro running around town – both alone and with friends – are always at the center of the film, tying all the various threads of the story together in a clear and concise way. The framing of running throughout the film helps communicate the theme of the playground, capturing the specific feeling of transcending your body as your legs continue to move, carrying you forward at a pace that is never tiring, but instead, satisfactory. In those moments, all of Amiro's problems fade away as the character displays a kind of happiness that is not found anywhere else in the film.
Thematically, the act of running also doubles as a representation of Amiro moving towards his future. The idea of growing up and overcoming his current situation is always at the forefront of Amiro's actions and personality. The film opens with various situations – whether it's Amiro shouting at boats passing in the distance, or conversations with his friend about what lies beyond their field of vision – that reinforce the character's desire to determine his future and take control of his life. In this sense, the fast speeds at which Amiro runs can also be seen as a testament to the power of growing up, of setting your own path not just out of necessity, but out of genuine desire.
Another reason why few movies cause it emotion of childhood quite like The Runner it's because the film relies more on its visual language than on rigorous dialogue. Naderi's direction is excellent. Every shot – even those that capture theoretically unlikely places like ship ports or airports – is captivating and enveloping both on its own and in relation to the rest of the film. Naderi is extremely talented at capturing the elements of life and juxtaposing them against each other. Scenes where the camera focuses on the murky sea water, the huge fires or the plane gliding through the air are impossible to look away from. The film's reliance on visual language, again, doubles as a testament to the nature of childhood, where wonder and majesty exist in a way that words can never fully describe.
The Criterion Collection's 2K digital restoration looks incredible, and the physical release of the film has a handful of features that make it worth a purchase. Between them: Stand byone of Naderi's short films (made before the revolution, in 1974) and a new conversation between Naderi and acclaimed Iranian director Ramin Bahrani (The White Tiger, 99 Houses). But, perhaps the most exciting thing about this release is that a film like this, so quiet in its process yet so profound in its revelations, can become a focal point for people to discover, love, and hopefully dive deeper into. in Iranian cinema as a result.
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