Woman and Child
In Woman and Child (Zan o bacheh), Saeed Roustaee explores the strange, contorted forms that family dynamics can take in a patriarchal society where sons are elevated to the status of kings. At the film’s core is Mahnaz (Parinaz Izadyar), a widowed nurse struggling – often desperately – to maintain order in a household spanning three generations of women. But it’s her misbehaving teenage son, Aliyar (Sinan Mohebi), who wields a disquieting amount of sway – more warlord than child – in a domestic sphere where masculinity, even in its most juvenile form, becomes the centre of gravity.
Roustaee paints Aliyar as the de facto man of the house. Mahnaz treats him with a kind of over-respect that borders on misplaced awe. He roughhouses with his much younger sister Neda, tricks her into doing his homework, and effortlessly sways his aunt Mehri into secrecy after being suspended from school. It’s a peculiar inversion – child-as-patriarch – that could only emerge from a society where maleness, at any age, is tacitly equated with authority. And the women around him, whether out of guilt, grief, or love, enable his rule.
Visually, the film leans into this power dynamic with a striking sense of verticality. Aliyar is often positioned above others – on rooftops, climbing the skeletal frame of a half-built factory, or looming over the apartment’s courtyard. These recurring elevated vantage points hint at a social structure, both literal and symbolic, that lifts him up while weighing Mahnaz down.
Izadyar is exceptional, particularly in grief. Her haunting performance shifts between vengeful and vacant – one moment she’s administering an injection mid-argument at the hospital, the next she’s a silent spectre in her own home, her dead-eyed stare speaking volumes.
The subplot involving Hamid (Payman Maadi), Mahnaz’s would-be fiancé, is ultimately Woman and Child‘s weakest thread. Though Maadi strikes the right tone with his mix of superficial charm and brittle pride, the trajectory of his character feels disappointingly predictable. His conditional affection – so clearly tied to Mahnaz’s ability to present a more socially acceptable version of her life and family – is established so early that the eventual revelation of his duplicity lacks any real impact. What should be a moment of emotional rupture instead lands with a sense of inevitability. As he continues to insert himself into Mahnaz’s life, the film’s second half gradually takes on the tone of a soap opera.
Still, Roustaee directs with a patient touch, capturing the quiet ruptures within a household – and a society – strained by inherited expectations. Aliyar may strut through the flat like a miniature patriarch, but when the fragile foundation collapses, it is the women who bear the weight of the wreckage.
Christina Yang
Woman and Child does not have a release date yet.
Read more reviews from our Cannes Film Festival coverage here.
For further information about the event visit the Cannes Film Festival website here.
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