A young Afghan woman who had to leave her home because she worked as a translator for the U.S. Army, deftly navigates her life in the Bay Area.
A unique kind of American immigrant, a woman that worked for the U.S. military as a translator in Afghanistan and now lives in exile, is the main character in the latest film from Iranian British director Babak Jalali. The movie is called Fremont.
Fremont, California, is home to more Afghans than any other U.S. city. One of them is Donya, a young woman played by Anaita Wali Zada, living in an apartment there after fleeing her country at war’s end. She commutes daily to nearby San Francisco, where she works in a fortune cookie factory. Donya lives a pretty solitary life, since her family stayed behind in Afghanistan. Her brash co-worker Joanna takes a liking to her, gossiping and talking about her views on life while they work. Donya knows a male Afghan neighbor in her apartment complex that sits outside and smokes a lot, but she’s a bit wary of him. She often eats at a local Middle Eastern restaurant, where the owner, an older man, expresses some disillusionment with life in America.
Persistent insomnia inspires her to get an appointment with a state-funded therapist, played by the amusingly eccentric Greg Turkington. Although all she wants is medication to help her sleep, the therapist insists on completing a certain number of sessions, and he slowly draws her out. In her quiet, hesitating way, she relates the traumatic events she fled from, including dead colleagues and threats against her family because of her work translating for the Army. In one of the many deft touches of the screenplay, by the director and Carolina Cavalli, the therapist becomes more and more emotionally affected by the sessions, while Donya continues to maintain her poise and determination. This is actually a central insight of the film; any expectations we may have that Donya’s encounters with sympathetic Americans will help her through trauma are turned upside down by the realization that her experiences are deeper and more profound, and therefore more helpful to her struggles, than those of the relative privilege she encounters in her new home.
An old lady dies that was writing the fortunes for the cookies, and the company owner, a young and ambitious small-time businessman, asks Donya if she can handle the job. The film’s quirky fortune cookie theme cleverly highlights the mindset of a newcomer to American consumer culture; a combination of life wisdom with a feeling for pure chance. Writing these fortunes, which are vague enough to apply to anyone but specific enough to seem meaningful, stimulates Donya’s imagination and gets her thinking about her life. One day she decides to put a message into one of the cookies, a message seeking a connection of some kind, hoping to get a response. But of course the consequences are messier than she hoped for or expected.
Zada is a first-time actor who herself recently emigrated from Afghanistan, and was discovered by Jalali. She does beautiful work, holding our rapt attention throughout the picture. The black & white photography, the square “Academy” aspect ratio, and the deadpan acting styles remind me a little of the films of Jim Jarmusch. Fremont, though, strikes its own remarkable note. Tenderly it evokes the pensive experience of a wanderer seeking happiness in a world not her own.
