Movies usually don’t just vanish. They get shelved, sure. They get stuck in legal limbo. But they don't often disappear into a basement for decades, only to be found by accident in a junk shop. That is exactly what happened to Mohammad Reza Aslani’s 1976 masterpiece, Chess of the Wind (or Shatranj-e Baad). It’s a film that shouldn’t exist. It was screened once, hated by the Iranian authorities, banned, and then physically lost. Honestly, if it weren't for the director’s son stumbling upon some film cans in a Tehran flea market in 2014, we’d still be talking about it as a myth.
It’s a miracle.
Watching Chess of the Wind feels like peering into a decaying dollhouse through a layer of thick, colored glass. It’s heavy. It’s claustrophobic. It’s also one of the most visually stunning pieces of cinema ever produced in Iran—or anywhere else for that matter. If you’re into the moody, gothic atmosphere of something like The Others or the social rot found in Parasite, you’re basically looking at their long-lost ancestor.
The Night Everything Went Wrong
Context matters here. 1976. Tehran. The Iranian New Wave was in full swing, but Chess of the Wind was something else entirely. Aslani wasn't interested in the gritty realism of his peers. He wanted to make something decadent, a critique of the Qajar dynasty that felt like a trap. The premiere at the Tehran International Film Festival was a disaster. The story goes that the projection was sabotaged—the film was out of focus, the sound was garbled. The critics panned it. The government banned it shortly after.
Then came the Revolution.
For nearly forty years, the film was a ghost. Most people thought the original negatives were destroyed. When Aslani’s son, Gita, found those cans in 2014, he didn't even know if the film would still be playable. It was shipped to Paris, restored by Cineteca di Bologna with funding from Martin Scorsese’s World Cinema Project, and the result is what we see today: a crisp, haunting vision of greed and paralysis.
📖 Related: Despicable Me 2 Edith: Why the Middle Child is Secretly the Best Part of the Movie
Why Chess of the Wind Looks Unlike Anything Else
Most movies use light to show you things. Aslani uses light to hide them. He and his cinematographer, Houshang Baharlou, leaned heavily into the "low-light" aesthetic long before digital sensors made that easy. They used candlelight. They used shadows that felt like physical weight. Every frame looks like a 17th-century Dutch painting—think Vermeer but with a sense of impending doom.
The camera barely moves. When it does, it’s slow. Sinister. It glides through the hallways of this massive, rotting mansion like a predator.
The story is simple but nasty. A noble family is falling apart. The matriarch is dead. Her daughter, a woman who uses a wheelchair, is left in a house full of vultures. There's a stepfather, there are maids, there are relatives—all of them circling the inheritance like sharks. It's "chess," but nobody is playing for fun. They’re playing for survival, and they’re all willing to kill for it.
A Breakdown of the Visual Language
- The Symmetrical Trap: Aslani loves symmetry. It makes the house feel like a prison. You see characters framed in doorways, trapped by the very architecture of their wealth.
- The Color Palette: It’s all deep blues, earthy browns, and the occasional, shocking splash of red. It feels old. It feels like the air in the room hasn't been changed in a century.
- The Soundscape: The score by Sheyda Gharachedaghi is jarring. It uses traditional instruments but in a way that feels avant-garde and uncomfortable. It’s not "background music." It’s an irritant.
The Social Rot Under the Surface
It’s easy to get lost in how pretty the movie is, but Chess of the Wind is biting. It’s a critique of class. The "noble" family is physically and morally stagnant. While they plot against each other in the upper rooms, the washerwomen downstairs are the ones providing the commentary. They are the chorus. They see everything, and they know the world upstairs is dying.
This is why the film was so dangerous. It wasn't just about the past. It was a mirror for the present. In 1976, Iran was on the verge of massive upheaval. Aslani captured a society that was paralyzed by its own history and greed. He showed a world where the only way to move forward was to burn everything down.
👉 See also: Death Wish II: Why This Sleazy Sequel Still Triggers People Today
Honestly, it’s amazing the censors even let it be filmed.
The female lead, played by Fakhri Khorvash, is incredible. Her performance is internal, quiet, and filled with a simmering rage. She’s surrounded by men who view her as an obstacle or an object. Watching her navigate the literal and figurative shadows of that house is a masterclass in tension.
The Restoration That Saved a Legacy
We have to talk about Martin Scorsese for a second. Without his World Cinema Project, this film would likely be a footnote in a textbook. The restoration process was a nightmare. The film stock was fragile. The colors had faded. But the 4K restoration released in recent years is a revelation.
You can see the dust motes in the air. You can see the texture of the velvet robes. You can see the sweat on the characters' faces as the tension ramps up in the final act.
If you watch it on a service like The Criterion Channel or MUBI, you’re seeing it in a better state than the people at that disastrous 1976 premiere. It’s a rare case where time actually improved a movie’s standing. It’s no longer just a "lost film." It’s a foundational piece of world cinema.
✨ Don't miss: Dark Reign Fantastic Four: Why This Weirdly Political Comic Still Holds Up
Dealing with the Pace
I’ll be real: this isn't an action movie. If you go in expecting Knives Out, you’re going to be bored in ten minutes. It’s slow. Painfully slow at times. But that’s the point. The slowness builds a sense of dread that you can't shake off. You’re trapped in that house with those people. You’re waiting for the clock to strike.
The ending? It’s wild. It shifts from a psychological drama into something almost like a slasher film, but way more elegant. It’s visceral. It’s messy. It’s the only way a story like this could possibly conclude.
How to Actually Experience Chess of the Wind
If you want to understand why this movie matters, don't just put it on in the background while you're scrolling on your phone. You’ll miss the details. You’ll miss the way a character’s eyes move in the corner of a dark frame.
- Turn off the lights. This is a movie about shadows. If there’s glare on your screen, the movie is ruined.
- Focus on the sound. The whispering, the clinking of tea sets, the distant wind. It’s all intentional.
- Watch the washerwomen. They aren't just extras. They are the key to the whole movie’s political message.
Chess of the Wind is more than a movie; it's a survivor. It survived a botched premiere, a ban, a revolution, and forty years in a basement. It reminds us that art can be suppressed, but it’s really hard to kill it completely. If you’re a fan of cinema that challenges you, that makes you feel a bit uneasy, and that stays in your head for days after the credits roll, you need to find this film.
Practical Steps for Further Discovery
- Watch the Criterion Collection release: It includes an interview with Mohammad Reza Aslani and his daughter, Gita Aslani Shahrestani. Their account of finding the film is as dramatic as the movie itself.
- Research the Iranian New Wave: Look into directors like Abbas Kiarostami or Dariush Mehrjui to see how Chess of the Wind fits (or doesn't fit) into the broader movement.
- Explore the Qajar Era: A little bit of history goes a long way. Understanding the decline of the Qajar dynasty helps explain why the house in the film is so cluttered and decaying.
- Check out World Cinema Project: See what other "lost" films they’ve saved. It’s a rabbit hole worth falling down if you care about preserving global history.
The film is currently available on various high-end streaming platforms and physical media. It isn't just a relic of the past; it's a living, breathing piece of art that feels as urgent today as it did in 1976. Don't let it get lost again.