The Salesman

A sickeningly elegant, brutally ephemeral and devastatingly nuanced moral tale from Iranian auteur Asghar Farhadi (the writer-director of A Separation and The Past), who slowly weaves a spider web of dread from outwardly innocuous words and gestures. After their building literally gets ripped out from under them in a semi-apocalyptic opening scene, married actors Emad and Rama move into a new apartment, where an unexpected intruder terrifies Rama and shoves Emad into a spiral of shame and rage that he can barely articulate. It culminates in a long and emotionally devastating final sequence, one where every word and gesture is so tightly wound around a sense of world-crumbling dread that I could barely breathe. With the recent death of Abbas Kiarostami and the strangely fruitful semi-exile of Jafar Panahi, Farhadi has become the unofficial flag bearer for Iranian cinema, and The Salesman finds him in full command of his skills. D.B.