The Orphanage

Maravilhosos, uma produção a seis mãos (países) aquela critica social que amamos, banhando em história, uma época triste a tomada do Afeganistão pelos Soviéticos, de denominada Guerra do Afeganistão (1979–1989), e o desfecho, do filme, não poderia ser diferente, a tragédia, a tristeza, a derrota, e o final interrompido, do drama não dito…

The Orphanage is a stellar film conveying the need for true heartfelt cinematic experiences. Beautiful cinematography creates a transcendent movie experience, with a script based on the unpublished diaries of Anwar Hashim, who plays a supporting role in the film. Acclaimed director Shahrbanoo Sadat uses personal experiences to convey an uplifting message. Wolf and Sheep, the prequel to The Orphanage, premiered in 2016. Like its predecessor, The Orphanage is based on real life experiences in Afghanistan. The movie chronicles the main character, Qodrat (Qodratollah Qadiri), who spends his days trying to survive by illegally selling overpriced movie tickets and key rings. He is then brought to a Russian-operated orphanage along with other teenage boys, where he is given the opportunity to get an education alongside his peers. The Orphanage details his experiences in the orphanage and how the quarrels between roommates of the dorms are dealt with by the director Anwar (Anwar Hashimi). All throughout a war torn country in 1989, Qodrat remains hopeful, through fantasy sequences shared with the audience. The cinematography is what truly stands out in this film. Directory of photography, Virginie Surdej captures the beauty of the country while adding to the heartbreaking story. My favorite part of this movie is the performances by the young people, including Qodratollah Qadiri, who gives rare insight into real life in Afghanistan, as they are all natives of the country. The message of this film is about the importance of hope, despite all circumstances. The protagonist, Qodrat, remains hopeful and looks for positive routes of escapism throughout his struggles of growing up without a family, and his struggles at the orphanage. You should be aware that the film contains strong language and minor adult content. There are also two graphic descriptions of war and violence. There is also some references to sex and pornographic images (very far away from the screen, but still visible) that are unsuitable for younger kids. I give The Orphanage 4 out of 5 stars and recommend it for ages 15 to 18, plus adults. Reviewed by Erin M., KIDS FIRST!

Based upon a set of unpublished diaries by Anwar Hashimi (who delivers a great supporting role in the film) split into a 'pentalogy' - revealed by Google to be "compound literary or narrative work explicitly divided into five parts". 'The Orphanage' is the second part of this planned five-part series. We are invited into the life journey of a a teenager living in Afghanistan named Qodrat, observing moments of their upbringing within a community orphanage. Qadrat is a fan of Bollywood cinema, brilliantly showcased through his moments of daydreaming framed within a musical lens. A prime example encountered early on is his attraction to a girl sitting nearby in the same class, which culminates in a romantic singalong piece featuring colourful attire where they both run into each others arms on a luxurious beach, interspersed with upbeat music and close-up shots of the sun. These sections of musical satire were thoroughly entertaining (a la 'Flight of the Concords') whilst providing added depth as a sincere love letter to Bollywood cinema, alongside the power that film and imagination can provide for nourishing the soul. Palpable tension comes from a set of characters ruling the internal hierarchy by bullying others in the orphanage, running in smart parallel to the backdrop of volatile international politics played out during the course of the film. Its portrayal of the Soviet Union providing Russian language education and childhood pioneer camps within Afghanistan were revealing nuggets of history. It manages to capture honest glimpses of youthful connection, uncertainty and amusement, reminiscent of 'Stand By Me' to a degree - yet manages to retain a unique sense of identity, feeling very much its own piece. Boasting an incredible ability to jump from social realism (akin to the work of Ken Loach) towards surrealist escapism at the drop of a (musical) hat, without feeling forced or trite. The engrossing story-line ratchets up the underlying tension and energy as it progresses onward, resulting in a gripping finale. Various emotions are explored throughout, where even the humorous musical segments are laced with a bittersweet concoction of paradise and pathos. An all-encompassing film from director Sharhbanoo Sadat, which left such a strong impression that I am seeking Sadat's 2016 prequel (and first part of the planned five-series) 'Wolf and Sheep' as a matter of urgency.

Written and directed by black British director Shahrbanoo Sadat, with mostly Danish finance, and showing on MUBI now, this is the second time she has based her film on the unpublished diaries of Anwar Hashimi who grew up in Afghanistan back in the 80s and acts as a sequel/continuation, to her previous Wolf and Sheep in 2016, which centred on a young boy named Qodrat played by Quodratollah Qadiri. He returns here as Qodrat again, now a Bollywood obsessed teenager who's sent to an orphanage after he was caught scalping cinema tickets. There he meets other kids, some he befriends, some were bullies, and these interactions contribute to make up the bulk of the film's somewhat episodic but interwoven narrative that's part historical document and part personal memoir. Neorealistic in style, using amateur actors in the main roles (even Hashimi joins in as the kind-hearted supervisor, called Anwar naturally) and shot on location, the film uses the intimate and sweet stories based on their experiences at the orphanage to reflect and explore their native Afghan culture and the precarious nature of living in a country torn between extreme religious fanatics and Soviet indoctrination. The acting and directing style are purely naturalistic, except for the three fantasy interludes which turn Quodrat's inner emotions into Bollywood musical numbers. While some might find this jarring, others might be more enchanted by this ode to Bollywood cinema – which will in turn determine how one feels about the enigmatic, bittersweet note on which the film ends on. At least, you have to admire its consistency and passion and the film has an irresistible artistic sheen and charm to it. The result is gently illuminating and thoughtful and could conceivably see Sadat and Qadiri be the Truffaut and Doniel of Afghan cinema.