Marjane (center) belongs to a free-thinking family whose members face persecution in the opressive climate of post-revoluation Iran. (Photo provided by Sony Pictures Classics)

Animated tale illustrates what it was like growing up behind the veil

Marjane Satrapi was born in 1969 in Tehran, Iran. If you're not too up on late-20th century world politics, this might not mean much to you. That's fair: as "Persepolis" shows us, Iran was not the most open country in the world. "Persepolis" is Satrapi's story, and these are the times in which she grew up.

Iran in the '70s was ruled by a shah who employed secret police and torture of political opponents, among other questionable tactics.

Satrapi, who was brought up by her free-thinking, communist-party-linked family, was still able to access the Bee Gees, Iron Maiden, Nike sneakers and jean jackets -- on the backs of which she scrawled "Punk is not Ded."

She head bangs in her room 8after buying a black market tape as her mother looks on, rolling her eyes.

Then things get worse.

Under the Ayatollah Khomeini, women were forced to wear the veil and eschew makeup. Most forms of merriment were cut off, including parties and shopping.

Tehran falls into disrepair, and young men are encouraged to go to war and women are discouraged from making their opinions known. Satrapi's parents (voiced by Catherine Deneuve and Simon Abkarian) send their vocal daughter to Austria, where she grows up away from the veil and strict censorship of her opinion.

There she finds nihilist friends, difficult housing situations, light drugs, make-up and sex. After a rough break-up in Austria, she returns to Iran to a lifestyle even more restricted than the one she left. Coed parties with booze are verboten, hand-holding in public brings strict fines and art classes are taught with nudes all but blacked out. In one scene, an artist's model is swiveled around on a stool, all but her face covered by a heavy black veil.

"All you can see is her big nose," Satrapi complains.

Based on Satrapi's graphic novels of the same name, "Persepolis" is not only an intriguing narrative, it's also beautifully presented. The black-and-white animation is at times subtle, at other times sublime. Animation styles shift to express different facets of the story.

As Satrapi and her friends chase a torturer's son down the street, wielding nails like brass knuckles, but for the subject matter the animation could almost be lifted from whimsical French cartoons like "Babar" or "Madeline."

In flashbacks of the country's history, the shah and puppet soldiers wiggle like marionettes; Satrapi's uncle's tale is shown with heavy swirls and smoke. The iconography of jasmine blossoms decorates the dress of a communist martyr. Even though the ayatollah forced a uniform of a veil, the differences of the girls stand out in their faces, even as they are grouped in a cluster of black.

This is a highly crafted, seamless tale, and Satrapi's telling appears effortless despite the painful stories she tells.

The heart-wrenching scenes pile up: An uncle is sentenced to death for his communist beliefs and asks that Satrapi come to visit him in prison. Satrapi sinks into a deep depression in Austria that lands her on the streets. She returns to Iran to sink into a different kind of despair. She witnesses bombs and explosions and sees corpses buried under rubble on her street.

Fortunately, sad scenes are matched with goofy or poignant scenes. Launching out of her depression, Satrapi launches into an off-key version of "Eye of the Tiger." Her grandmother doles out advice and anecdotes of Iran's past, usually with an insult for men as a whole.

"Persepolis" presents a range of emotions. Most refreshing is the sincerity of the telling and the presentation.

Subject matter like that of "Persepolis" seems to be begging for a heavy-handed approach.

That it distinctly avoids being dour, sour and plodding is what makes it so wonderful.