Ava review – a frustrated ode to Iran’s troubled youth

It’s hard to imagine that this year will produce a cinematic villain more hateful than the eponymous character’s mother in Ava. A narcissistic ball of stubborn fury and misplaced shame, her complete lack of redeeming features is one of the most effective engines powering this polemical debut from Iranian-Canadian filmmaker Sadaf Foroughi. Yet, while the anger she – and many other characters – provoke make for some of Ava’s most powerful scenes, they ultimately also prove to be the film’s Achilles Heel, at points pushing it beyond the realms of watchability.

Ava (Mahour Jabbari) is a quiet, diligent student, going through a testing phase of her relationship with her mum Bahar (Bahar Noohian). After being caught hanging out with a boy in the woods near her school, Ava is dragged to a humiliating gynaecologist appointment by Bahar to ensure that nothing “inappropriate” happened, sparking a furious resentment that transforms Ava into the kind of rebel that Iranian society simply won’t accept.

Despite the grounded subject matter, Foroughi doesn't simply settle for a kitchen sink style, and her inventive visuals focus on immersion. Many shots place the audience in an intimate, voyeuristic position, as if we ourselves are eavesdropping on a series of familial arguments and stressful classes. It’s a great way to place us in Ava’s headspace, an outsider in her own home, and the slowburn introduction to Bahar – for the first few scenes she’s only heard, not seen, skulking behind doorways – does an excellent job of setting her up as a monster.

Conversations play out in long, static shots, letting the excellent performances breathe, but this technique does eventually become repetitive. So many of Ava’s scenes are unbroken takes of horrible people saying horrible things that it’s hard to stomach for the full runtime. Yes, we’ve seen more obviously horrific things in many films, and Foroughi’s techniques do create an effectively oppressive atmosphere, but there’s so little catharsis on offer here that frustration is your primary response to many of the later scenes.

Tensions ratchet up and up, and Jabbari in particular reaches a terrifying fever pitch of anger and sadness, but, in the end, the payoff is underwhelming. Foroughi based Ava, at least in part, on her own teenage years, and Ava’s struggles feel painfully authentic, brought to life by a litany of well-realised little details.

The mewling of cats punctuates dramatic moments, while the headteacher at Ava’s school has an oddly disturbing penchant for white silk gloves that she’s constantly adjusting while admonishing her students for imagined transgressions.

Like Bahar, this headteacher strives to make Ava’s life more upsetting, and it’s a fascinating choice on Foroughi’s part to have these antagonistic women take a more active role in upholding Iran’s miserable patriarchal theocracy than any of the rather docile men. Foroughi shows us a thoroughly poisoned socierty that stamps out any attempts at, or even thoughts of, solidarity, but also never quite lets her characters off the hook. Even though its relentlessness might numb you, Ava offers an important insight into an under-explored world, one which fails its young women on both a systemic and personal level.

Ava is in cinemas and streaming on Curzon Home Cinema and BFI Player from August 21.