Persepolis

Persepolis is one of those rare animated films that stays with you years after you’ve watched it. Based on Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel, this movie is essentially her coming-of-age story set during the Iranian Revolution. Don’t let the stark black-and-white animation fool you — it’s emotionally layered and surprisingly funny at times. Watching young Marjane grapple with her shifting identity, her country’s chaos, and her fiercely loving family feels intimate in a way most live-action dramas wish they could pull off.

Right off the bat, the animation style is striking. It’s minimalist but never boring, using sharp lines and shadows to evoke both the nostalgia of old cartoons and the profound gravity of the subject matter. There’s this gorgeous contrast between the dreamy childhood sequences and the brutal realities Marjane faces as a teenager and adult. The lack of color actually amplifies the drama and the absurdity, especially when Marjane’s imagination spirals off during moments of fear or uncertainty.

Persepolis nails tone like few movies do. It’s deeply personal and often tragic, but also surprisingly playful. There’s an irreverent humor that sneaks into all the right places, mostly thanks to young Marjane’s bluntness. A scene where she talks to God as a child is as hilarious as it is heartbreaking. That sense of playfulness keeps the film from being suffocating, even as it dives into themes of war, loss, and exile.

The pacing is brisk without feeling rushed. It covers decades, yet every chapter feels purposeful. You’re right there with Marjane as she goes from rebellious kid to angsty teenager to world-weary adult. There are moments where the political history might trip up viewers not familiar with Iran, but Satrapi’s storytelling is so personal that it doesn’t really matter. The political is always filtered through Marjane’s own experience, so it always feels grounded and relatable.

Voice acting is superb — I watched the original French version with English subtitles, which I’d recommend over the dubbed one. Chiara Mastroianni gives Marjane a raw honesty, and Catherine Deneuve as her mother brings depth to even her quietest scenes. These performances make the film’s most devastating moments land all the harder. The family dynamic is complicated and real, and it’s those quieter scenes — arguments over ideology, bittersweet farewells — that hit the hardest.

I have to admit, there were a few moments where the film lost me a bit. There’s a middle section set in Europe that feels a little meandering, and I found my attention slipping. Some of Marjane’s experiences abroad aren’t as compelling as her upbringing in Iran — they’re necessary narratively, but the energy dips a bit. I get that’s part of the point, but a tighter edit could have helped.

Still, the emotional punch more than makes up for any pacing hiccups. There’s one scene near the end — no spoilers — where Marjane is confronted by her memories all at once, and it floored me. The final stretch does something few autobiographical films manage: it feels honest without being preachy or self-indulgent. By the credits, you’re left with a bittersweet sense of hope and loss that lingers for days.

Persepolis isn’t a “fun” movie, but it’s a rewarding one. I wouldn’t recommend it as the first animated film for someone who’s only watched Pixar. But if you want a powerful, unique story told in a style that mixes punk wit with graphic-novel poetry, this film should be at the top of your list. It does what all great movies do: make you care deeply about someone’s life, even if it’s a million miles from your own.