I went to see Persepolis last night, or rather the first hour of it, as the projector broke down so the sparse audience had to leave and get a refund. We had all been liking it so much we were very sorry not to stay to see how it turned out. “It made me weepy,” said one woman. “Me too,” I said, as I had been when the heroine, Marjane, had been forced to go into exile and was parting from her lovely parents. “It’s strange to be so affected by animation,” said the woman.
There are some fairy tale like cartoons showing flowers and waves, and also some very funny ones of punk bands, as Marjane faces Western culture. That was when the trouble with the projector began. Marjane was scolding her nihilistic, cool, spoilt Western friends for their political indifference, when politics was a matter of literal life and death for her family.
I’ll go and see it again – it’s playing at Edinburgh’s Cameo but probably the run will be short.