There are films that entertain you, films that move you, and then there are films that rewire your soul. They burrow deep into the tissue of your consciousness and take up permanent residence, forever changing the way you see the world, a particular culture, or the very nature of truth itself. Asghar Farhadi’s 2011 masterpiece, “A Separation,” is one such film. It’s more than a movie; it’s a moral labyrinth, a searingly honest portrait of a society at a crossroads, and a universal drama that plays out in the specific, evocative streets of Tehran. To watch it is to be implicated, to be forced to choose sides where no right side exists. And for the cinematic pilgrim, to walk the streets where this story unfolded is not merely about finding a location; it’s about seeking a deeper understanding of the human heart in conflict with itself. The film’s power doesn’t come from grand vistas or iconic landmarks, but from its intense, almost claustrophobic focus on the intimate spaces of domestic life and the impersonal, grinding gears of bureaucracy. The apartment, the courthouse, the rain-slicked streets—these are the stages for a tragedy of immense proportions, a quiet emotional earthquake whose aftershocks are still felt by anyone who has witnessed it. A journey to the Tehran of “A Separation” is a journey into the heart of modern Iran, a city of dizzying contradictions, profound warmth, and intricate social codes. It’s a pilgrimage that challenges you, rewards you, and ultimately, connects you to the powerful, unspoken truths that Farhadi so brilliantly laid bare. This is not a hunt for backdrops, but an immersion into a world, a feeling, a moral quandary that still echoes from the concrete balconies and crowded hallways of Iran’s sprawling, pulsating capital.
This cinematic pilgrimage through the moral landscape of “A Separation” can be extended by exploring the filming locations of Asghar Farhadi’s ‘The Salesman’, another profound exploration of Tehran’s intimate spaces.
The Anatomy of a Home: The Apartment as a Moral Battlefield
The full emotional weight of “A Separation” is rooted in a single, seemingly ordinary space: the middle-class apartment shared by Nader, Simin, and their daughter, Termeh. This space is more than just a setting; it acts as a central character, quietly witnessing the fracture of a family and the clash of different worlds. Finding the exact building is a challenge for the most devoted cinephiles, as it remains a private residence tucked within Tehran’s dense urban landscape. Yet the search itself, along with understanding what this space symbolizes, forms the core of the pilgrimage. The film’s apartment is situated in a neighborhood that reveals much about its residents. It reflects a certain level of education, ambition, and modernity. These are not lavish high-rises but sturdy, respectable buildings, the kind that accommodate teachers, office managers, and professionals—the backbone of Tehran’s urban middle class. The architecture is practical, a blend of concrete, tile, and large windows overlooking a city that is at once a land of opportunity and a cage.
Strolling through similar neighborhoods in central or northern Tehran immediately evokes the atmosphere Farhadi captured. The soft whir of air conditioning units in the summer, the muffled sound of piano practice behind closed doors, and satellite dishes discreetly angled toward the sky—all signify spaces of private ambition and quiet unease. The film’s brilliance lies in how the apartment’s layout intensifies the drama. The door serves as a frequent motif, a threshold continually crossed, slammed, or painfully left ajar. It marks the boundary between the family’s private turmoil and the public scrutiny from the outside world. When Simin leaves in the opening scenes, her departure through that door feels seismic. When Razieh, the devout caregiver, enters, she brings with her a different world—a distinct set of beliefs and economic pressures that the apartment itself struggles to contain.
Picture standing outside a similar building. Balconies are hung with laundry or adorned with potted plants, small declarations of life amid the urban sprawl. You can almost sense the tension that filled the film’s apartment. The living room, where Nader’s father with Alzheimer’s sits in his silent isolation, becomes a space marked by obligation and simmering resentment. The kitchen, where quiet conversations and critical decisions unfold, feels like a pressure cooker. Most hauntingly, the narrow hallway and bedroom door form the setting for the film’s pivotal, ambiguous act of violence—the push. The confined space renders the action both intimate and explosive. Was it a deliberate shove or an accidental stumble? The architecture withholds any clear answer, leaving both the audience and characters suspended in ongoing uncertainty.
For visitors, the most respectful way to engage with this setting is not to track down the precise address and disturb the residents but to soak in the general atmosphere of these neighborhoods. Walk through areas like Sa’adat Abad or parts of central Tehran. Observe daily life’s rhythm—families coming and going, carrying groceries, caring for elderly parents. Sit in a local park and watch the interplay between generations. This is how one finds the essence of the film’s central location. It becomes clear that the apartment in “A Separation” is a microcosm of countless other homes throughout Tehran, each harboring its own complex dramas and silent struggles with tradition, modernity, faith, and doubt. It is in the very air of these residential streets that the film’s heart continues to beat.
The Labyrinth of Law: Navigating the Courthouse
If the apartment represents the heart of the film, then the courthouse embodies its troubled mind. It is within this setting that a private, domestic conflict is exposed to the harsh, impersonal scrutiny of the public legal system. The judiciary scenes serve as a masterclass in controlled chaos, offering a compelling, if intimidating, glimpse into a vital aspect of Iranian society. Rather than portraying the courthouse as a grand hall of justice lined with marble columns, the film depicts it as a crowded, worn, and intensely human environment. It is a labyrinth of corridors, small offices, and bustling waiting areas where people from all walks of life converge, each carrying their own grievances and yearning to be heard.
Farhadi captures these sequences with a restless handheld camera that reflects the characters’ anxiety. The soundscape is a dissonant mix of ringing phones, shouting voices, and rustling papers. This is bureaucracy in its rawest form. Nader and Hodjat, the two adversaries, are divested of their domestic power and reduced to petitioners, compelled to navigate a system that is simultaneously rigid in its rules and frustratingly flexible in its application. The judges and clerks they meet are not villains; rather, they are overburdened, weary arbiters struggling to unravel the complexities of human fallibility with the blunt instrument of the law.
Visiting a genuine administrative building in Tehran evokes a shadow of this experience. While tourists rarely have reason to enter a courthouse, the same atmosphere permeates other government offices or even the controlled chaos of a large bank. It is an environment marked by organized queues, formal language, and the tangible weight of official stamps and signatures. What the film masterfully captures is how this system compels individuals to transform their tangled, emotional truths into cold, hard facts for the record. Every word is measured; every testimony is a performance. Truth becomes a commodity, molded and presented for the most advantageous outcome.
Particularly revealing for a foreign visitor is the observation of the blend of Islamic and civil law underpinning the proceedings. Razieh’s hesitation to swear on the Quran, a crucial moment in the film, underscores the deep influence of faith on legal and moral consciousness. This is not something easily understood from afar. It reflects a worldview in which divine judgment is as real—if not more so—than that of any earthly court. The courthouse in “A Separation” is where these two belief systems—the secular demand for evidence and the religious call for piety—clash with devastating effects. It reveals how, in the pursuit of legal resolution, profound spiritual and moral wounds can be inflicted. A pilgrim visiting Tehran can gain insight by exploring areas where traditional and religious life remains vivid, such as the vicinity of the Shah Abdol-Azim Shrine in the city’s south, and contrasting that with the modern, secular vibe of northern Tehran’s cafés and shopping districts. The film’s courthouse stands as the institutional space where these two Tehrans are compelled to confront one another.
The City in Motion: Streets, Traffic, and the View from a Windshield
Beyond the two main settings of the home and the court, “A Separation” is a film about a city in perpetual, unyielding motion. Asghar Farhadi skillfully employs the streets of Tehran as connective tissue, visually reflecting the characters’ inner states. The city is seldom shown in calm, picturesque wide shots. Instead, we experience it as the characters do: through the blurred glass of a car windshield, in the frantic rush of crossing a congested street, or in brief glimpses of storefronts and apartment buildings that swiftly pass by.
Tehran’s traffic is infamous, and in the film, it serves as a potent metaphor. The endless gridlock, the cacophony of horns, the near collisions at intersections—all echo the inescapable, frustrating conflicts trapping the characters. When Nader drives, his hands clutch the steering wheel tightly, his face a mask of strain. He is navigating not only the city’s chaotic veins but also the impossible maze of his own making. The car becomes a private bubble, a space for tense phone calls and difficult discussions with his daughter, Termeh. It’s a fragile sanctuary moving through a world of external pressures. For visitors, taking a taxi or using a ride-sharing app like Snapp is an essential Tehran experience, offering an immediate, visceral connection to the film. Sitting in the back seat, watching the urban landscape unfold, you begin to grasp the rhythm of the city that Farhadi captured. The endless flows of Peugeots and local Saipa sedans, the bold maneuvers of motorcycles weaving through impossibly small gaps, the pedestrians who flow like water around metal obstacles—it’s a chaotic ballet that somehow functions.
Farhadi also uses these driving scenes to subtly chart the city’s social geography. The film quietly transitions between different districts of Tehran, with architecture and atmosphere shifting accordingly. We see the more affluent, tree-lined streets of the north and the denser, working-class neighborhoods where Razieh and Hodjat might live. The journey between these areas becomes a passage across class divides. The car is the vessel crossing these invisible yet deeply felt boundaries. The film doesn’t need to explicitly state economic disparity; it reveals it through the changing facades of buildings, the clothing of people on the street, and the general condition of urban infrastructure.
Another critical element is the city’s air quality. The persistent haze hanging over Tehran, a blend of pollution and dust from nearby mountains, lends the film’s exterior shots a muted, almost melancholic tone. It visually represents the story’s moral ambiguity. Nothing is clear-cut; everything is seen through a veil of doubt and uncertainty. The gray sky weighs heavily on the characters, just as their situations weigh upon them. A visitor arriving in Tehran will notice this distinctive quality of light. On a clear day, the magnificent Alborz mountains provide a stunning, solid backdrop to the north, a silent, imposing promise of escape. Yet on many days, they remain obscured, a faint outline behind the smog. This duality lies at the core of Tehran’s identity and at the heart of the film’s conflict—the yearning for escape versus the suffocating reality of the present.
The Unseen Character: Culture, Class, and Tradition
To truly undertake a pilgrimage for “A Separation” means recognizing that the most significant locations are not physical but cultural. The film offers an in-depth exploration of the complex social fabric of contemporary Iran, with its strength rooted in the subtle details of human interaction shaped by centuries of tradition, religion, and social hierarchy. Visiting Tehran gives you an opportunity to witness the living backdrop of the film’s drama.
One of the film’s strongest themes is the class divide, an invisible yet powerful force present in every scene. The stark contrast between Nader and Simin’s world and that of Razieh and Hodjat runs deep. It’s about more than just money; it encompasses education, social access, and worldview. Nader’s family talks about leaving the country, hires lawyers, and maneuvers through bureaucracy with a certain, albeit fragile, confidence. In contrast, Hodjat is overwhelmed by the system, prone to sudden outbursts of frustration rooted in a sense of powerlessness. His life revolves around daily, precarious labor and profound religious devotion. This divide is visible throughout Tehran, evident in the difference between the upscale cafes and boutiques of northern neighborhoods like Elahiyeh and the vibrant, traditional commerce of the Grand Bazaar in the south. Experiencing both areas is crucial for anyone seeking to grasp the city’s complexity and the social tensions Farhadi portrays.
Another central idea is the concept of aberoo, or honor and reputation. Much of the characters’ motivation centers on protecting their social standing and family name. Hodjat’s anger stems not only from the loss of his unborn child but also from the perceived insult to his wife and his honor. Nader’s stubborn refusal to pay the blood money is tied to his insistence on his own innocence and his reputation as an honest man. This deeply ingrained cultural value may not be obvious to visitors but underlies social interactions. It connects to the well-known Iranian custom of taarof, a complex etiquette system involving politeness that can confuse outsiders. It’s a delicate dance of offering and refusing, a series of formal pleasantries that mask true intentions. Although the film’s characters are too raw and desperate for much taarof, understanding its presence helps clarify the importance placed on face and social grace in their culture.
Religion forms another foundation of the film’s world. Razieh’s frequent calls to a religious hotline about the sinfulness of her actions reveal much. For her, moral judgment is determined not by civil law but by divine law. Her faith is both a source of strength and a cause of crippling anxiety. Visitors to Tehran can sense the pervasive influence of religion in the calls to prayer echoing from minarets, the prevalence of religious iconography, and the respectful dress codes observed in public places. Visiting a beautiful mosque, such as the Imamzadeh Saleh in Tajrish Square, offers a moment of peaceful contrast to the city’s bustle and a glimpse into the spiritual devotion guiding characters like Razieh. It is in these quiet moments of observation that the cultural foundations of “A Separation” shift from abstract ideas to palpable realities.
A Guide for the Thoughtful Traveler: Experiencing Farhadi’s Tehran
Planning a trip to Tehran guided by “A Separation” calls for a mindset different from a typical tourist visit. It’s less about ticking off landmarks and more about immersing yourself in the city’s atmosphere. The key is to navigate Tehran with awareness, noticing the subtle details of everyday life that Farhadi so masterfully portrayed on screen.
Navigating the City
To truly experience Tehran’s rhythm, use its public transportation. The Tehran Metro is clean, efficient, and provides a fascinating cross-section of society. The women-only cars offer a unique cultural experience, fostering easy camaraderie and conversation. For a above-ground journey reminiscent of the film’s many driving scenes, try Snapp or Tapsi, the local ride-hailing apps—they are affordable and widely available. If possible, chat with your driver; many are well-educated and offer insightful views on city life. Don’t hesitate to try the city’s famous shared taxis, or savaris, which run on fixed routes. They are a vivid introduction to Tehran’s organized chaos and a great way to experience life like a local.
Cultural Etiquette and Respect
Iran has a deeply rooted culture of respect, so observing local customs is essential. Women are expected to wear a headscarf (hijab) in all public places and dress modestly in loose clothing that covers arms and legs. Men generally avoid wearing shorts. This is more than a rule—it’s a gesture of respect for the culture you are visiting. Photography requires care: always ask permission before photographing someone and be very cautious about capturing any government buildings or sensitive sites. The concept of taarof often comes into play. If a shopkeeper offers you tea or a taxi driver initially refuses payment, it’s likely taarof. The polite response is to gently decline a few times before accepting or insisting on paying. This social grace signals your understanding of the local customs.
Beyond the Film’s Path
Although your trip is inspired by the film, allow yourself to explore other aspects of Tehran for a fuller picture. Visit the Iran Artists’ Forum, a cultural center with galleries, a cinema, and a café where you can experience the city’s modern, creative side. Spend an afternoon at the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art, home to an impressive collection of Western and Iranian artworks. Wander through the maze-like alleys of the Grand Bazaar, a world unto itself, where the ancient pulse of commerce and tradition contrasts with the modern city beyond its walls. To gain insight into Termeh’s world—the world of an educated, curious teenager—explore the area around the University of Tehran, known as Enghelab (Revolution) Street, famous for its numerous bookstores. Watching students browse texts on philosophy, science, and poetry adds depth to your understanding of the society Farhadi portrays.
A Separation, A Connection
Walking the streets of Tehran in the footsteps of Nader, Simin, Razieh, and Hodjat reveals that the separation in the film’s title signifies far more than just a marital rift. It embodies the divide between truth and lies, law and justice, tradition and modernity, class and class, and ultimately, between the choices we make and the consequences we can never entirely predict. A pilgrimage here is not about seeking closure, much like the film’s haunting final scene offers none. Rather, it is about learning to embrace ambiguity. It involves viewing the city not as a political headline, but as a vast, intricate stage for millions of individual human dramas, each as compelling and morally complex as the one Asghar Farhadi chose to portray. You depart Tehran not with straightforward answers, but with a deeper sense of the questions. And within that shared space of uncertainty, you discover an unexpected, profoundly human connection to both the characters in the film and the people of this unforgettable city.
