Du is a film columnist, did you know that?

For about a year  and half now, I’ve been writing a film column at matchflick.com, which is a social networking & review site for film fans. I’d like to get all of those columns on here eventually, but for now, I’m sharing just the section in today’s column that I wrote on Persepolis.  Before I started dating the bf, the only graphic novel I’d read was Maus–I had read in it college and then used in my lit class at Marquette University because it’s fucking awesome! I have no real idea why I never gave any other graphic novels a chance, but when the bf went to the Wisconsin Book Festival a couple years ago, he heard Satrapi speak and bought me several of her books. I inhaled them like warm Krispy Kremes. So here’s what I have to say about the film.

PERSEPOLIS (2007)
Marjane Satrapi opens the first installment of her autobiographical graphic novel with a short history of Persepolis, an ancient Persian city the ruins of which are located in modern-day southwest Iran. Iran has always been an area of riches for various reasons, leaving it open to invasion and occupation, most recently in the 20th century because of its oil. Writing in 2002, Satrapi explains that writing the graphic novel was important to her because she believes “that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists.” And what American can’t relate to that sentiment? Even a bare bones knowledge of the recent history of Iran is unnecessary to the understanding and enjoyment of Persepolis the book and PERSEPOLIS the film; Satrapi fills in

Just a normal girl embracing her Sex Pistols phase.

all the blanks. It’s a story of a girl and her family, first and foremost. Where she’s from and where she goes is practically incidental. She could have been a child of the ’70s and ’80s anywhere, with her bad taste in heavy metal and her adoration for Adidas. Her beautiful descriptions of her precociousness as a kid, the sassy way she calls her teachers and other adults out on their flip-flopping and hypocrisy (such as when the students are made to rip out of the picture of the Shah from their textbooks by the same teacher who had previously told them he was handpicked by God), the audience is made to adore young Marjane and cheer her on, while simultaneously pleading with her to stop and make things easier on herself. The visual beauty of the film matches the books — the simplicity of the black and white drawings is contrasted by the richness of every frame and every scene.