We are taught as children that truth is an absolute concept- right and wrong are polar opposites, and guilt and innocence are irreconcilable. As we grow older, the truth grows murky and inaccessible. As adults, we are confronted by the possibility that the truth may not exist at all. As if to confirm our fears, Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation presents a world in which truth and fiction are inextricably intertwined.

This quiet, tense, masterful film follows the lives of an Iranian family, Simin (Leila Hatami), Nader (Peyman Maadi) and their daughter (Sarina Farhadi), as they both consider divorce and fight allegations that the father assaulted and caused the miscarriage of their housekeeper.

Crammed in a stuffy hearing room, the characters argue their cases loudly and with growing futility as their families look on in despair. The days drag on and the lies begin to surface, but the possibility of resolution only moves further away. Guilt no longer belongs to any one person, but to everyone; it seeps into the ground, poisoning the water and polluting the air. Even if innocence could be proven, absolution may come at a greater cost than the crime itself.

As we lose faith in the characters, we realize that even the film itself is hiding secrets. The storytelling had seemed relatively straightforward, with bravura camera-work capturing the characters’ daily lives as they navigate the treacherous emotional landscape of their own creation. It is only in retrospect that we understand the revelations hidden in the quotidian events or realize that the key to the story was omitted without our knowledge. A woman counting money, a man unbuttoning a shirt, a child taking out the trash- the film gives us puzzle pieces, and we never know where or whether they will fall into place.

In A Separation, as in life, the resolutions are partial and unsatisfying. No one falls into another’s arms, confessing their wrongs even if it is too late. The characters may come to recognize their mistakes, but do nothing to correct them. Hatami and Maadi give devastating performances, showing us two flawed, stubborn people who refuse to admit defeat even to save themselves.

We assume that if our lives fell apart, their end would be clearly signaled, and their destruction would hit with the force of a bomb. Asghar Farhadi shows that when it comes, the end will arrive not with a bang, but with a whimper.

–Britta Hanson