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From The Desk Of The Pogues’ Spider Stacy: “Blackboards”

The Pogues on record are never short of inspirational, and in person, they might be a life-changing experience. This hackle-raising blend of traditional Irish folk music, politically charged broadsides and electric rock ‘n’ roll, delivered by charismatic frontman Shane MacGowan flanked by a grizzled band of veterans that includes penny-whistle virtuoso/alternate vocalist Spider Stacy, was formed in the King’s Cross district of north London in 1982. Despite occasional time off for good behavior, they’ve been playing ever since and have a handful of festival dates planned for this summer. Here’s hoping it lasts for at least another 10 years. We are proud to say that Stacy, who is currently appearing as a street musician in season two of HBO’s Treme, will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our new Q&A with him.

Stacy: 2000’s Blackboards (or Takhté Siah, to give it its proper name) is a film that uses the emptiness and sadness of the landscape in which it is set to deliver a profound metaphor for the absurdities and tragedies of the Iran/Iraq War, a conflict that is being fought (from the film’s protagonist’s point of view, anyway) for no ostensible reason other than, it seems, to impact in a seemingly random, almost indirect manner on the lives of the people of the remote, mountainous frontier where the picture is set. They are living in a world that is at once utterly removed from, yet always being pulled into, the harsh, mechanical brutality of the 21st century, even if only by the occasional vapour trail of some lone warplane scouring the dry, tracked terrain for signs of who knows only what enemy. Directed by the then-20-year-old Samira Makhbalhaf, one of the foremost figures in contemporary Iranian cinema (world cinema, let’s not mince words here), Blackboards is an extraordinary piece of work. Dealing with the difficulties of confronting socio-political realities whilst having to stay one step head ahead of a rigorous state censorship system. Samira—like so many who have gone before her, when working under regimes equally intolerant of dissent—employs fantasy, allegory and quite exceptional cinematography to tell a story that should be bleak but is suffused with a stoical optimism. This she does with a mixture of humour, pathos and a very keen eye for the universality of the human condition. One of the film’s central and most delicately handled themes is her depiction of the statelessness of the Kurds. Everyone, even in this almost barren desert of rock and stone, is searching for a home.

Video after the jump.