Movie review: The Kite Runner

by John P. Meyer

Inspiring two-part tale explores betrayal, redemption in a land of colorful kites.

Marc Forster's The Kite Runner tells its story of courage, cowardice, betrayal, love and friendship in two parts: the first follows Amir (Zekeria Ebrahimi) as a young man growing up in the pre-Soviet invasion Afghanistan of 1978, and the second revisits an adult Amir (Khalid Abdalla, interviewed here) in pre-U.S. involvement days as he faces a decision about whether to return to his native country from his new home in the U.S. in order to fulfill an obligation to a long-lost friend - and to himself.

Amir is of the privileged class, his father - Baba (Homayoun Ershadi) - being an educated man and an important local personage. Amir's best boyhood friend, Hassan (Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada), also happens to be the son of his family's resident housekeeper/servant.

Turns out the citizens of Kabul during this time period are crazy for kites - who knew? They fly them in competition, engaging in city-wide aerial battles wherein kite-flying antagonists attempt to chop the tether string from their opponent's kite. It's possible to accomplish this because the kites built and flown by Afghans are designed for speed. By right of conquest, the victor of a kite showdown gets to keep the kite of the vanquished - as long as he can hunt it down. On Amir's squad, that's where Hassan comes in. He seems to have an uncanny knack for running down earthbound kites, often ending up on the spot where they'll come to rest before they actually get there.

The kite flying sequences of the movie are splendid to behold. They're CGI, of course, but they appear to have been captured via high-definition "kite cam." They'll put you in mind of dogfights between x-wings and tie fighters.

Beyond their kite flying endeavors, Amir and Hassan hang out together as buds, even though Hassan is of a different (and less privileged) ethnic background. They retreat frequently to an ancient hilltop graveyard, where Amir sits beneath a tree and reads to Hassan from Omar Kayam. Hassan is enthralled: he idolizes Amir. Amir's father, Baba, worries about his son's courage (primarily because the boy has no interest in or aptitude for team sports, such as soccer - a perhaps not entirely enlightened view), though Amir doesn't seem to care that his association with Hassan has the side effect of attracting the sorts of bullies who taunt him for having truck with "those beneath him."

The subject of courage - and whether it's innate or acquired - dominates this part of the story. Amir and Hassan enjoy watching videotaped movies in Baba's living room, and one of their favorite films is The Magnificent Seven, which pits a small group of brave hired guns against a veritable army of bandits. Like typical boys, they see themselves standing tall in the shoes of their movie heroes such as Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen.

Their shared fantasy of bravery overcoming oppression takes a nadir-bound nosedive when Assef (Elham Ehsas), their chief bullying nemesis and leader of a band of boys who derive their self-worth from belittling and stigmatizing others, corners Hassan in a deserted alleyway. Amir remains hidden and guiltily looks on as Hassan is subjected to the most personal and brutal demonstration of dominance one person can subject another to. Though he's tempted to intervene, Amir lays low to protect himself, rationalizing that he'd have no chance against the half-dozen bigger boys who are standing by while his friend is abused. He's mightily ashamed of himself, and in the aftermath of the assault he can't bring himself to have anything more to do with Hassan, because the boy reminds him of his own cowardice and inadequacy.

Shortly before the Russian army's advance into Kabul, Amir betrays Hassan by accusing him (falsely) of a theft. Amir knows that his father detests thieves - and, by extension, liars - because, as he says: "When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth." Hassan and his father are banished from their employers' compound, cast adrift on a sea of turmoil solely because Amir can't come to terms with his own shortcomings. As Amir and his father are fleeing the country a short while later, Baba offers a spontaneous personal example of the kind of courage Amir so recently found lacking in his own character. It's a sobering demonstration.

Cut to the late 1990s. Baba has made a new life for himself and his son in America and Amir makes a romantic connection thanks to his father's involvement with the local expatriate population. Soraya, the daughter of a former Afghani general (portrayed by the lovely Atossa Leoni), returns Amir's ardent admiration and the two are soon married. It's just as his life seems to be settling into a comfortable routine that Amir receives a desperate phone call from an old acquaintance in Afghanistan... and his past comes back to both haunt and define him.

The last part of the movie becomes a nail-biting cat-and-mouse adventure story played out in the Taliban-controlled environs of Kabul, with Amir being forced to draw upon reservoirs of courage he never knew he had in order to save a young life - and redeem his own.

The Kite Runner is an enjoyable and enriching film, but perhaps its most improbable success lies in the story behind the scenes, in which a cast and crew speaking dozens of different languages and dialects came together to pull off a movie that ends up crossing all sorts of national and cultural boundaries in the spirit of inclusion. (Also, it may be the only movie you see this year featuring spoken Dari - subtitled in English, of course.)

BUT CONSIDER THE ALTERNATIVE: "It's a dangerous thing, being born." - family friend Rahim Kahn (Shaun Toub) to Amir, re. the natal death of his mother.

THEN WHY DO THEY KEEP COMING?: "Everyone leaves. This country's not kind to invaders." - Baba, re. the Soviet threat

THAT'S NOT THE WAY HE MEANT IT: "I'm looking for a boy." - Amir to the adult Assef (Abdul Salam Yusoufzai). "Aren't we all?" - Assef's reply.