By Matthew Moorcroft

Strong Recommendation

• Directed by Maryam Moghaddam and Behtash Sanaeeha
• Starring Lily Farhadpour, Esmail Mehrabi, Mansoureh Ilkhani, Soraya Orang
• Not Rated

Political art is not always flashy. Normally when people think of it it’s through the banner of protests or government buildings or actively discussing political figures or regimes. There is a tendency then to view said political art as a very specific kind of feature, but that could not be further from the truth. Sometimes the most radical pieces of political art – the ones that really say something or speak to a specific society – are the ones that would least expect it from.

This is where a film like My Favourite Cake, the second film from husband and wife duo Maryam Moghaddam and Behtash Sanaeeha, comes in. Despite it on the surface seeming like a sweet, small little film about an elderly romance the blossoms over the course of a single night, My Favourite Cake is just as politically charged and scathing towards the current state of Iran as something like the equally as angry It Was Just An Accident. But while that film is very much a rallying cry against the system itself, My Favourite Cake is more interested in the human connection that is seemingly being lost under waves and waves of authoritarianism.

And it makes sense then to tell that kind of story from the perspective of somebody who grew before the revolution itself, somebody who has seen Iran slowly but surely seemingly begin to lose itself. Mahin is somebody who loves her country and has been there her entire life, but as time has gone on has begun to feel trapped within it’s walls. The morality police watch their every move, couples can’t openly show affection (if they can even be couples), and Mahin as a widow cannot be seen with another man despite the fact she hasn’t been married for 30 years. What were once normal in society have become taboo and restricted. Her world is just her home and nearly nothing else.

This is what makes the eventual single night romance between her and a cab driver by the name of Faramarz both sugary sweet – it’s just delightful – while also carrying heavy implications that you can’t help but shake off. It’s a genuine act of defiance that would be cheer worthy in any other situation but instead you are simply locked in on the intimacy of the romance here that instead your gaze is held there and hoping things turn out great for these two. Much of this is thanks to both Farhadpour and Mehrabi, who are just magnificent here and have basically the entire film to just themselves.

Instead of covering the romance over several days or weeks or even months, My Favourite Cake‘s smartest attribute is how it keeps it confined to a singular day and moment in time. They laugh, they drink, they share stories about their shared love of cake and food and music, they try to distract the nosy neighbor. In fact, by the time the night begins to reach a climax (both figuratively and literally in this case) you are in that headspace so cleanly that when the ball drops it’s as sudden as these things get.

The last 10 minutes of My Favourite Cake will likely make or break the film for the majority of audiences, and even at my own screening there was a decidedly mixed reaction. But as somebody who has mulled it over, particularly in regards to how My Favourite Cake fits into the pantheon of the numerous political pieces that have come out of Iranian cinema over the years, the ending of this really works as a final statement about how fleeting happiness actually currently is in the country. Even despite everything, Mahin can’t actually have what she wants – she can only wonder what could be in a country that is morally rotted.

In fact, the ending of My Favourite Cake is so strong and impactful it slightly overshadows the rest of the flick, which is still delightful with great small bursts of comedic wit and stellar, if quiet, camerawork. It lets you absorb yourself into it’s world and only really lets you go when the time is right, and yet you just want to stay with these two as long as possible. A part of me wishes that the entire film, frankly, was that night date section, as the film takes about a third of it’s short runtime getting to the point.

But that context is also necessary to truly digesting My Favourite Cake afterwards, which has become a film that I’ll begin to think of more and more as time progresses. Just like the cake it’s promising in it’s title, it sticks with you long afterwards as both savoury sweet in the moment and then melancholic as the night goes on. And for me, that’s more then enough to give this the full marks.