The journey of making Keyke mahboobe man / My Favourite Cake was a most arduous journey for directors Maryam Moghaddam and Behtash Sanaeeha. The challenges of crafting films under the weight of restrictive Iranian film rules and finding ways to manoeuvre around them, grappling with the changing political situation surrounding the production of the film amidst the Woman, Life, Freedom movement, and needing to complete as much of the production in secret to avoid the wrath and control of government censors.
It should be noted, the challenging journey has yet to finish for Moghaddam and Sanaeeha: the Iranian government imposed a travel ban on the two filmmakers and confiscated their passports to prevent them from attending the Berlinale world premiere of Keyke mahboobe man.
With such unfortunate circumstances and challenges faced by the filmmakers in bringing their vision to life, one feels ever more grateful to have the opportunity to see the final product. And the result is an understated and tender blossoming romance with laughs and bitterness in equal measure. Keyke mahboobe man makes the inevitable connection between Iranian cinema and politics — even in a genre as seemingly apolitical as the rom-com. Moghaddam and Sanaeeha craft quite the intriguing film that is at once a character study and a study of the society these characters inhabit.
The film begins with us honing in on Mahin, a longtime widow following a pleasant enough, though, uneventful existence in Tehran. Played with wonderful ease by Lili Farhadpour, Mahin seems content with her daily solitary routine, including occasional teatime gatherings with her friends and long-distance calls from her daughter in Europe. Characterised as someone very comfortable with herself and comfortable with standing up for others, notably in a great scene where she stands up for a young woman getting persecuted for her hijab by the state police, Farhadpour’s performance finds the perfect balance between independence and confidence. Simultaneously, she shows the subtle underlying loneliness of Mahin’s restrained existence.
Farhadpour finds joy in moments of camaraderie while also finding the poignancy in Mahin’s solitude, seeking the companionship she has long been deprived of. It is through this, and a lively conversation with her friends about love lives at their age, where Mahin slowly begins opening herself up to the possibility of romance.
Moghaddam and Sanaeeha offer their take on the formula of the aged widow seeking love again, contextualised against Mahin as a woman in Iranian society, where dalliances are frowned upon and their every action is restricted by laws and social norms. Through the film we find a route for her out of these restrictions and see her seize an opportunity for happiness. This comes in the form of Faramarz (Esmail Mehrabi), a cab driver she propositions on a whim after a brief encounter at a restaurant.
Though introduced to one another with an awkward energy of two people not used to much social interaction — let alone flirtation and romance — their glowing chemistry with one another, evident from the very early stages, starts blossoming and flowing the more they feel comfortable with one another. The retiring disposition of Faramarz finds itself broken down by Mahin’s infectious warm energy, which is in turn further encouraged by every new ray of warmth that shines from Faramarz as his reservations diminish.
The two actors have phenomenal rapport with one another, and the humour in these sequences is particularly effective as it never feels like the film is making fun of the conceit of two elderly people finding love. Rather, we’re laughing alongside them at the unusual situation they meet and strike up such a bond, while also ruminating with bitter sweetness over how they had not met sooner.
Mahin and Faramarz share stories allowing the audience to learn about their previous relationships in such a warmly articulated way, it shows gratitude for the joys and regrets in life. These conversations are further amplified by some covertly dynamic camerawork, which often lingers on small yet potent moments between the two, shown beautifully in a great one shot sequence of the two dancing with infectious abandon.
The film takes a tonal and narrative shift in the final stretch, which comes as a shame as this change doesn’t quite have the expected potency. This left-turn feels like it deprives the film of achieving its full potential. There were routes this narrative could have gone which would have explored the central dynamic in even more detail, and perhaps implement even more of the outside societal implications of their burgeoning relationship.
As it is, the film leaves quite a bit of potential on the table, leaving it a tad unsatisfying. On the whole, however, this is a resonant work that brings a smile to my face when thinking about it at its charming and most endearing best.