Plot Details: This opinion reveals major details about the movie's plot.

I have to disclaim right away that it is virtually impossible to talk about Crimson Gold without giving away the plot. There is very little in the movie by way of a linear story: a jewelry store heist goes awry and the perpetrator kills himself -- that's it. The upside is that Crimson Gold confirms the characterization of Iranian films as expository, so the plot is secondary to the painstaking mise-en-scène and character development. This may be a turn-off for viewers who particularly value suspense. However, the movie offers a rich and multi-faceted look at the Iranian life and society, which is especially intriguing to an American audience.

For obvious political reasons, Americans know very little about the present-day Iran. (I don't know if Iranians are equally clueless about us, but I would imagine this is the case.) The rare glimpses that we do get (usually via educational public television channels) show an ambivalence towards modernity and the West: an oppressive religious-fundamentalist government existing in a strange symbiosis with sophisticated social and professional frameworks, a surprisingly progressive role of women, and a westernized lifestyle, especially in the upper class. (One of the most vivid examples of that ambiguity is Crimson Gold's portrayal of women. The law requires that they cover their bodies completely and wear a head covering; they comply by way of fashionable silk scarves, snazzy handbags, elegant pastel-colored clothing, and conspicuous make-up.) Iran is not like any other theocracy, but it is also radically different from ordinary secular states. Overall, its daily life remains very elusive. Thus, when I first decided to see Crimson Gold, it was because I was curious about it as one would be about a documentary.

Crimson Gold begins at the end, and, after the robbery ends in failure and suicide, the rest of the movie is spent examining the few days preceding it. The protagonist Hussein, a pudgy and taciturn pizza delivery man, plows through congested streets of Tehran with his flamboyant friend Ali. Although Hussein says very little and betrays scant outright emotion, he is evidently a disaster waiting to erupt, with anger and discontentment brimming just below the numb surface.

Pizza delivery must be very expensive in Iran, since Hussein's job brings him exclusively to families and people ranging from moderately wealthy to filthy rich. Their upscale lifestyle is contrasted with the grimy poverty of Hussein's slum. Consequently, the destitute Hussein constantly has his face rubbed in it, as his very job invariably puts him in contact with people of much better economic means. The class tension plays its role, as the rich evidently get away with more liberties against the religious restrictions than do the less well-heeled Iranians; in the better parts of town, women let their hair show from underneath loosely draped Gucci scarves, while affluent playboys keep liquor in the fridge and entertain girlfriends with romantic candle-lit dinners. Still, however, the omnipresent State and its coercive power hang heavily over both extremes of the economic spectrum.

Whatever the indignity of Hussein's life, he is one of many similarly situated men who deliver pizzas to those who are better off. Things are bearable, if fragile, until Hussein finally meets his exact antipode -- someone who is not only rich, but also thin, loquacious, worldly, and extraverted. The way that the two men relate towards each other is what seems finally to send Hussein over the edge.

Throughout the movie, Hussein is forced to walk through a world where he is an insignificant outsider, and his muted resentment in reaction to underscored irrelevance creates an atmosphere of danger and foreboding. Iran's religious tint is quietly questioned in this movie, where lasciviousness, anger, and class antagonism foreclose any spirituality.

Hussein is played by Hossain Emadeddin, a real-life pizza delivery man. Emadeddin's acting in Hussein's line-poor and complex role is outstanding: he conveys Hussein's wounded dignity and understated anger with a subtlety surprising in a non-actor.

One of the most interesting non-Hollywood creations this year.

Recommended: Yes

Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older