Two months earlier, in April, Iran-American journalist Roxana Saberi had been sentenced to eight years on charges of spying for the United States. No One Knows About Persian Cats (Kasi Az Gorbehayeh Irani Khabar Nadareh), which shows at the London film festival tonight, brings the two strands together.

Co-written by Saberi (who was released in May) it is a film about the underground (ie illegal) live music scene in Tehran. These are bands with more to worry about than what haircut will work best in Camden. The story begins shortly after Ashkan, a member of an indie rock band, is released from jail and follows him and female singer Negar as they attempt to obtain, via forgers and bootleggers, the passports and visas that will allow them to leave Iran to play a gig in London.

Stylistically, it feels as stifling as their lives must surely be. The threat of the police and authorities is all around. Bands soundproof secret rehearsal spaces and venues; one heavy metal band avoids arrest by playing in a stinking cowshed on a farm far out of town; members of another band talk about having their instruments confiscated. The police are often out of shot, however - perhaps adding to the omnipresent menace and what feels like an arbitrary exercise of power. When Negar's car is stopped and her pet dog taken from her, we never see the police officer who does the snatching.

The action, if that's the word for it, takes place in below-stairs recording studios only reached via alleyways and through hidden doors. The feature - directed by Saberi's fiance, Bahman Ghobadi - was shot discreetly in Tehran and has enough of a documentary feel to it (the titles announce it is based on "real events, people and locations") that you can assume this is what Tehran's indie rock scene does actually look like. In fact, a Canadian TV report from just before the election goes to what looks to be the same places and talks to musicians bravely recording and performing in them.

The TV report, however, shows up one of No One Knows About Persian Cats' major flaws - that the music just isn't very good (the Canadian TV crew find more musically interesting artists). In the latter stages of the film we hear Tehran bands playing - one purveying indie rock, another heavy metal, others blues and rap. All are derivative of western styles (which is kind of the point, it is such "decadence" that gets them banned) but don't inject much more into it. The rap band depict Tehran as a "jungle" where someone else, usually with a car, always gets the girl: all very well - and probably true - but also true of Skee Lo's pop rap portrait of Los Angeles in 1995's I Wish.

While that is harsh, and I'm not making music in such difficult conditions, it begins to impact on the quality of the film. The documentary camera work of the film switches to a cut-to-the-beat music video-style montage whenever opening chords strike up, putting shots of everyday life in Tehran to song. Done once, it is fine. But by the third or fourth time, monotony sets in. What just saves it is the poignancy of the lyrics, such as "dreaming is my reality".

Where Persian Cats works best is when it combines the dreams of being in a successful band and playing in London – the sort western audiences may be used to – with aspirations of personal and artistic freedom that those audiences would take for granted. It captures the absurdities of such a life – the prices of Iranian v Afghan forged passports ($4,000 v $500), or the bootlegger who promises the band that his access to the black market means "the whole of Tehran will hear". It can sometimes feel as if Ghobadi is filming his friends, but while not a documentary (only "based on real people and events" after all) it does capture a moment and a feeling. And that is quite an achievement.

Negar and Ashkan, however, do not get their passports. In the closing scenes, their final Tehran gig is raided by police, and the sound rings in your ears long after the music fades away.

Simon Jeffery, The Guardian, 29.10.09

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2009/oct/28/london-film-festival-iran