Final Rating: 3/5
In the late 19th century, the Shah of Iran visited Europe several times in order to experience Western culture, and bring some home. Juliet and the King, directed by Ashkan Rahgozar, dramatizes the aftermath of one of these visits as an animated musical.
In Juliet, Naser al-Din Shah, enamored by a performance of Romeo and Juliet, orders writing student Jamal (Hamed Behdad) and his muse Julie (Amin Ghazi) to return with him to Persia and stage a production of Shakespeare’s tragedy. The production swiftly proves controversial, however, as the Shah’s insistence on Julie in the lead role conflicts with the Iranian ban on women in theatre. The Shah’s fascination with Julie also inspires jealousy in his many wives and mother, who see their influence on him slipping.
The messiness of cultural exchange is at the heart of the narrative. In his desire for Western theatre, the Shah is stubborn and unwilling to compromise to fit in with Iranian theatre traditions. A key point of contention – especially for his mother – is whether this desire for progress at any cost is worthwhile, and what else the Shah might insist on.
The Shah’s wives and mother, the film’s primary antagonists, are vain and vindictive, but motivated by a concern to which the filmmakers are surprisingly sympathetic. The Shah isn’t wholly righteous, either, his stubbornness accompanied by a cold distance even from his invited guests.
Jamal and Julie, the Shah’s guests, are charmingly written, but not especially interesting. A Persian ex-pat and a Frenchwoman, the two sort of function as audience surrogates experiencing Iranian culture for the first time but are rarely invested in what they see. Their main struggles rarely put them in conflict with the world around them, instead revolving around preparing and rehearsing a performance that is never meaningfully in danger of not happening.
Interiors of the palace are breathtaking, with intricate wall and floor patterns rendered in exquisite detail. The royal grounds, Tehran, and the Shams Ol Emareh – a royal museum in which the performance is to take place – are also beautifully realized, breathing life into the film’s version of Iran.
The animation and character design lovingly evokes the Disney Renaissance of the 90s, with exaggerated designs that lend themselves well to a variety of visual gags. The Shah’s wives, all dressed in burqas, blend together into a single shape. During their conversations with the Shah’s mother, the wives will take up the entire frame, while in larger settings, they’ll move as a singular, bumpy blob, drifting across the screen like a ghost.
During musical numbers, the film’s animation style will often shift, adding a visual variety that keeps the film feeling fresh. The story of Romeo and Juliet is recounted in a style reminiscent of Rocky and Bullwinkle, while transitional scenes recounting the Shah’s journeys play out in a blocky artstyle that looks like a Persian rug.
Juliet and the King is a feast for the eyes. The narrative is less interesting, but the filmmakers’ celebrations of both Iranian culture and Western cultural influence makes for an enticing watch.
