Legendary Iranian stage and screen actress Shohreh Aghdashloo is a captivating onscreen presence, and with good reason. With her distinctive raspy voice and piercing, unrelenting gaze, she commands attention every moment she is onscreen, be it in her leading role on The Expanse, a voice-over role or guest appearance in a TV series, or more recently her role as Ella in Renfield. But decades before becoming the first Iranian nominated for an Academy Award in an acting category — for 2003's House of Sand and Fog — Aghdashloo made her onscreen debut, and thoroughly stole the show, in 1976's Chess of the Wind.
Chess of the Wind premiered at the Tehran Film Festival in 1976 and was subsequently never screened again. While part of this is likely owing to the mixed reception it received, the film never had a chance to gain a cult following of any kind after being outlawed by the new Islamic government that seized power in the 1979 revolution. Beyond the technical reasoning for the ban — unveiled women onscreen — Chess of the Wind also functions as a nuanced political commentary on Iran in the late 1970s, despite the 1920s setting, which is hardly ideal for a new regime attempting to exert total control over a resisting populace. However, in 2015, the original negatives were found, and the film was painstakingly restored, eventually becoming a part of Martin Scorsese's World Film Project with Criterion.
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What Is 'Chess of the Wind' About?
Set in 1920s Iran, Chess of the Wind follows a young aristocratic woman, known simply as Khanum Koochak, or "Little Lady" (Fakhri Khorvash), in the aftermath of her mother's death. With the 40 days of mourning over, her family is eager to settle the matter of inheritance, with her stepfather Haji Amou (Mohamad Ali Keshavarz) and his nephews all seeking a piece of the dead woman's fortune for themselves. Caught up in their web — or perhaps pulling a few of the strings herself — is Little Lady's maid, known as Kanizak (Aghdashloo), who begins the story in an unassuming way before gradually becoming a power player in her own right. Set entirely within the confines of the large manor house, Chess of the Wind skillfully blends political commentary about a changing Iran together with unsettling cinematography and a chilling score to create a moody, restrained thriller just bordering on horror.
Shohreh Aghdashloo's Kanizak Quietly Steals the Show
With Chess of the Wind being Shohreh Aghdashloo's onscreen debut, the audience would be forgiven for thinking that Kanizak was a bit part, the kind given to a newbie actress, designed to color in the background of the melodrama being carried out by the seasoned professionals she is sharing the screen with. It's clear from the outset, however, and becomes increasingly clearer as the film goes on, that Aghdashloo is a powerhouse performer to be reckoned with. The characters, and the audience by extension, underestimate Kanizak, but they do so at their own peril. It's easy enough now to joke, in the case of a sprawling suspense film set in a manor house that of course the maid did it. But Chess of the Wind is clever, not letting Kanizak shine too brightly too soon in order to dissuade that notion.
The film also uses social commentary to strengthen the role Kanizak plays. By setting the film in the 1920s, on the eve of Iran's shift into the more "modern" era, director Mohammad Reza Aslani is drawing a parallel to his present day Iran, only three years out from the 1979 revolution whose disastrous effects are still felt to this day. The immediate pre-revolutionary Iran, much like the Iran on the cusp of "modernization" is a nation that doesn't know what to do with the shifting nature of social class. In Chess of the Wind, Aghdashloo's Kanizak dispenses with that uncertainty and takes matters into her own hands.
Kanizak's Silence Speaks Volumes
Early on in the film, Shohreh Aghdashloo's role is carried out mostly in silence, with her observing the events unfolding in the house as she goes about her duties. Really, schemes over the house and the fortune are attributed primarily to Haji Amou, while the anxiety over the outcome falls to Little Lady. It's only when Little Lady decides to do something about her predicament — namely, killing Haji Amou — that Kanizak finally appears to take on a more instrumental role.
Now bonded over hiding Haji Amou's body, and having to lie to the police about his whereabouts, Kanizak and Little Lady grow closer, resulting in the two physically giving into a curiosity and attraction for the other. That new closeness doesn't forge any kind of permanent allyship, however, as it quickly becomes clear Kanizak is using her body and her sexuality as a means of playing the entire family against one another for her own gain.
It is in this way that Aghdashloo so firmly steals the show and absolutely dazzles in the role. Not in the use of overt sexuality — indeed, there's hardly anything "overt" in the way Kanizak conducts herself — but in the way her performance invites the audience to go ahead and underestimate the unassuming maid in the same way the rest of the household does. She barely speaks unless spoken to, or to serve as a sounding board. When her part in the ultimate plans become evident, and it is revealed she has been scheming with Haji Amou's nephew Shaban (Shahram Golchin), only then do we actually see who she is beneath the pre-determined role society has set out for her. Only then does her performance take on the spark and life that thus far we've only had glimpses at. Kanizak becomes a fully realized character when her motivations, too, become fully realized, and she presents herself not as a pawn in the game, but as one of the players.
Up until this point, the audience takes her actions and her words at face value: after all, it's not her story, it's Little Lady's. It's only at the end of the film, when the whole family lies dead and Kanizak leaves the house for the wider world beyond that you realize it was truly her story all along.
These subtle nuances are, ultimately, what makes Shohreh Aghdashloo so compelling to watch in Chess of the Wind. She doesn't storm to the forefront in spite of a script that would just as easily forget her, nor does the story telegraph a prominent role for her. The truly impressive feat is in watching Aghdashloo inhabit a slow-burn story that gradually clears the way for her to take the central role in such a masterful way that audiences come away wondering how they ever let themselves look away from her.
