I like Farhadi’s movies quite a lot. They’re arithmetically moral. Every choice adds up — or, given the tragedies under his belt, subtracts. But he prefers characters to explain what the camera — what his camera, anyway — cannot. Here and in his most recent, most ornate film, The Past, this leads to a blitz of last-minute exposition and confessions that are engrossing on the one hand and somewhat inadequate on the other.
April 24, 2015