Who is Peyman Majidi?

When I was young, I used to ask myself: “What does Peyman Majidi
want? What does he intend to do?” Driven by these questions, I started
working at the age of seventeen. Over the course of seven years, I tried
nearly thirty different jobs, only to leave them one by one—insignificant
and futile occupations in a world of the dead.
Everything changed the night I saw The Marriage of Mr. Mississippi on a
stage in Tehran; that was when I realized what I truly wanted. Suddenly,
everything became clear and meaningful to me. I believe art is a means
to rise and attain freedom. I pursued my education in Dramatic Literature
at university, where I met Sabina Shiari. We got married, and I began my
journey as a writer. My writing is an attempt to set myself free. She is an
extraordinary woman, a brilliant collaborator, and a wonderful partner.
Together, we strive for our independence and search for a path to
liberation, constantly experimenting with various forms and expressions
of art.

Do you remember the exact moment you fell in love with cinema?

Watching a film is an act of revelation—as profound as it is perilous. It
feels as though a shaman is showing you a vision or speaking a truth
that upends and utterly transforms your life. In my youth, I watched Alan
Parker’s The Wall with obsessive precision, once or twice every single
day for nearly two years. I was like a prisoner in solitary confinement,
clutching a yellowed, tattered scrap of newspaper hidden beneath his
mattress, reading it over and over again. I cherished it deeply. However,
the film that was destined to possess my soul once and for all—the true
answer to your question—was Angelopoulos’s The Suspended Step of
the Stork. I returned to the cinema to watch it for a long time. At that
time, Iran was at war with Iraq; films on the big screen were rarely
changed and would sometimes remain in theaters for months. I vividly
remember the empty cinema and the desolate, darkened streets through
which I would walk home. In those moments, cinema was truly like a
beautiful mistress in my imagination; I was profoundly in love with it.

Tell us about your project “Faust – This Had Never Happened OR
Resurrection of Angels with Broken Wings”.

It was born out of the pandemic! At that time, I hadn’t imagined returning
to cinema for years; it felt like an unreachable horizon. In truth, I had
written a stage adaptation of Goethe’s Faust, and we were in the midst
of pre-production for the theater when the COVID-19 lockdowns hit.
Suddenly, we were confined to our homes. Our only lifeline to the cast
and crew was through video calls and online rehearsals. Then, one
night, an idea struck me: why not transform this into a film? I proposed
the idea to Sabina—we are the co-directors and producers of this
project. She was initially shocked and asked for time to deliberate, but a
few days later, she accepted. When we shared the vision with the rest of
the team, everyone was on board. My reasoning was that Faust
possesses immense cinematic potential. It promised to be a profound
independent experience—a journey where we would transition from the
stage to the screen, unlearning and relearning everything from scratch.
Following that decision, we spent a year in rehearsals, followed by an
intense seven-day shoot to complete the production phase.
Our film is a Dadaist and, specifically, a dreamlike adaptation of
Goethe’s Faust. In the world of this film, we deal with dreams that are
disjointed, fragmented, and assembled like a collage. The visible reality
within these dreams is intentionally fabricated and artificial—it is not
magic. One must seek and comprehend the meaning of these dreams
beyond what is merely seen. Consequently, the narrative and every
element of the film were influenced by, and designed around, this very
concept. For instance, we pIt is as if you are witnessing a scene in a
dream without even blinking; everything unfolds before your eyes
without traditional cutting, or it leaps abruptly from one image to another,
yet you perceive it all as real. What we convey—and indeed, what we
warn the audience—is that this is a dream. In a concise and complete
sense, the film is an experiment in translating Goethe’s Faust into the
language of dreams. It stems from the premise that we first experience a
dream where everything is fabricated, and it is only through its cracks
and fissures that fragments of reality can be glimpsed.
Goethe’s Faust consists of two volumes. In the first, an aging Faust sells
his soul to Mephisto to regain his youth. In our adaptation—which draws
more heavily from the second volume—the young Faust and the old
Faust coexist simultaneously. In essence, Faust has become cloven,
torn between two halves in a state of intense conflict. The young Faust is
an urban architect and an anarchist, driven by the desire to build a
“terrestrial paradise,” while the old Faust is a hedonist in search of
pleasure and youth. Beneath this surface lies the struggle between
tradition and modernity—a war between the old world and new ideals.
Then, there is the third force: Mephisto, representing the oppressive
apparatus of power and capital. We extended this “dream logic” into
every facet of the film—visuals, sound, music, architecture, and costume
design. We intentionally disrupted costume continuity to maintain the
dreamlike instability. In our lighting, we explored the recurring motif
spoken by Mephisto: “Darkness shines like the day.” For instance, to
depict an eclipse and provoke a sense of unease, we filmed exterior
night scenes in natural daylight. This serves as a reminder that the
reality we perceive is something fake and manipulated—an unnatural
desire born from a malignant will. The sound design and effects followed
a similar philosophy, signaling that the reality of this world is a deception.
We utilized the sounds of storms and rain where no rain was visible, or
the surreal auditory experience of a piano being played upon a violin…

Which Director inspires you the most?

To answer this question, I could look to the extensive list I hold in my
mind—from Fellini, Buñuel, and Pasolini to Lynch and Tarantino, or
perhaps von Trier and Lanthimos. I have learned so much from all of
them; I deeply admire and love their cinema. However, there is one
director whose work remains, for me, eternally peerless—a definitive
benchmark. He is a master who could tackle any genre with absolute
perfection. His obsession and precision were boundless, and his films
are infinitely maddening, visceral, and profound: Stanley Kubrick.

What do you dislike about the world, and what would you change?

I believe nothing in this world is more abhorrent than tyranny and
ignorance, and no struggle is greater than the fight for freedom and
awareness. I stand against the misguided notion that for an individual—
and specifically for an artist—taking responsibility and gaining
awareness only leads to suffering. On the contrary, I believe both are
essential and transformative; they are the catalysts for growth and
transcendence. Without accepting responsibility, we lack the will to
change or evolve, and without awareness, we can never make a truly
right decision. Oppression and fossilized thinking strip life and art of their
meaning—and a world void of meaning is a desolate and degrading
place.

How do you imagine cinema in 100 years?

A century from now, we will still be on the path we travel today: the path
of evolution. And for evolution to occur, change is inevitable. Whether
these changes—this shedding of old skins—happen through conscious
choice and control, or through unpredictable events and revolutions,
they are unstoppable.
In this journey, cinema remains one of our most vital tools for exploring
and experiencing the profound depths of the human condition. I believe
that cinema will make monumental leaps in technology and technique,
which will undoubtedly allow for the creation of captivating fantasies.
Ultimately, however, the “Seventh Art” must commit to a process of
rebirth and renewal. It is destined to become more contemplative, more
inquisitive, and, above all, more honest.

What is your impression of WILD FILMMAKER?

I believe you have an exceptional and avant-garde publication that
provides a comprehensive and profound reflection of contemporary
cinema. Moreover, your magazine’s dedication to artistic and
contemplative cinema is truly commendable; it is this very focus that
lends prestige to the medium of film and commands my utmost respect. I
am deeply grateful for the opportunity you have provided me and for this
meaningful conversation. I sincerely wish you continued success.