The Voyeur's Dilemma: When Fiction Blurs with Reality
There’s something inherently captivating about voyeurism in cinema. It’s a theme that’s been explored countless times, from Hitchcock’s Rear Window to Polanski’s The Tenant, and each time, it feels like a fresh exploration of human curiosity and its darker edges. But what happens when voyeurism isn’t just a plot device but a mirror to the creative process itself? This is the question Asghar Farhadi attempts to tackle in Parallel Tales, a film that, in my opinion, is as ambitious as it is frustrating.
Personally, I think Farhadi’s decision to base his film on Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Dekalog 6 was both inspired and misguided. Kieślowski’s masterpiece is a tight, 86-minute exploration of obsession and connection, where every frame feels deliberate and every moment earned. Parallel Tales, on the other hand, sprawls over 2 hours and 20 minutes, losing itself in a labyrinth of subplots and characters. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Farhadi, a director known for his razor-sharp focus on moral dilemmas in films like A Separation and The Salesman, seems to have lost his compass here.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s attempt to weave multiple narratives—or “parallel tales”—into a cohesive whole. Isabelle Huppert’s Sylvie, a novelist, spies on Virginie Efira’s Anna, crafting a fictionalized version of her life. Meanwhile, a homeless man, Adam, becomes entangled in this web, writing his own version of the story. It’s a meta-narrative that should feel clever, but instead, it feels convoluted. What many people don’t realize is that the beauty of Kieślowski’s original lies in its simplicity—two characters, one obsession, and a world of emotional depth. Farhadi’s film, by contrast, feels like a writing exercise gone awry, as if the director was so enamored with the idea of interconnectedness that he forgot to give us a reason to care.
From my perspective, the most intriguing aspect of Parallel Tales is its emphasis on sound. Farhadi introduces a foley artist, Anna, who creates sound effects for films. This focus on auditory voyeurism is a fresh take on the theme, but it’s underutilized. The scenes where Anna and her colleague Christophe (Pierre Niney) craft sounds—from creaking beds to bird wings—are visually and conceptually rich. Yet, they feel like isolated moments of brilliance in an otherwise aimless film. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a missed opportunity. Sound, after all, is often the unseen thread that ties us to reality, and Farhadi could have used it to explore the tension between what we see and what we imagine.
What this really suggests is that Farhadi was trying to say something profound about the creative process—how fiction shapes reality and vice versa. But the execution falls flat. The romantic triangle between Anna, Christophe, and Pierre (Vincent Cassel) feels lifeless, and the revelation about Sylvie’s family history comes across as a forced attempt to add emotional weight. By the time we learn about Sylvie’s father’s suicide, it’s hard to muster any sympathy. This raises a deeper question: Can a film about the power of storytelling fail to tell a compelling story itself?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the cameo by Catherine Deneuve, who plays Sylvie’s publisher. Her character’s disdain for Sylvie’s novel feels like a meta-commentary on the film itself. “Girl, I feel you,” Deneuve’s character seems to say, and honestly, I couldn’t agree more. The film’s polish—its elegant cinematography and stellar cast—can’t mask its narrative shortcomings.
If there’s one takeaway from Parallel Tales, it’s that ambition without focus can be a double-edged sword. Farhadi’s attempt to explore the blurred lines between truth and imagination is commendable, but the result feels more like a tangled mess than a coherent statement. Personally, I think this film will be remembered less for what it achieved and more for what it could have been.
As plans for remaking all ten Dekalog chapters move forward, I can’t help but hope that future filmmakers will learn from Farhadi’s missteps. Kieślowski’s work is a testament to the power of simplicity and restraint. Parallel Tales, unfortunately, is a reminder that sometimes, less is more.
