A semiautobiographical dramedy, Maryam Keshavarz’ The Persian Version starts out messy, but as the film progresses, I wondered if I had the heart to dislike it. A formally messy film, after all, is apt in depicting the life of a queer second generation immigrant. The protagonist here is a relatable Leila Jamshidpour (Layla Mohammadi). But unlike me, gets pregnant after a one night stand with a drag performer, Maximillian Balthazar (Tom Byrne). She’s also the kind of second generation immigrant who is squandering her parents’ hard work to give her a better life. At least that’s how her realtor mother, Shireen (Niousha Noor) sees her. On grandmother or Mamajoon (Bella Warda) duty, she retells her mother’s story. But Mamajoon tells her that there’s another version of why her family came to America.

That version, by the way, involves a scandal. Every immigrant with artistic tendencies has a film like The Persian Version dancing in their head. This is probably one of the reasons I can’t dislike this – because its existence is still an act of resilience. It also helps that the film ha sits own virtues. Leila is only asking Mamajoon about this scandal is because of her father Ali Reza’s (Bijan Daneshmand) heart transplant. Any other film would choose to make itself about the parent who’s lying in the hospital bed. But choosing her conflict with Shireen as the A-plot feels refreshingly left field. That or I need to watch more movies that I already do now. Anyway, this film also shows that some immigrant families, even Muslim ones, aren’t so sheepish about sex.

Most of The Persian Version‘s left field choices work, or at least, the film soaks its viewers in long enough to get them used to its rhythms. Its other choices, however, feel messy enough to me to dock some stars from it. Its biggest issue is its use of fourth wall breaks, which it justifies to explain a few things about Persian culture that non-Persians won’t know otherwise. Maybe it’s personal taste, or maybe the film should follow the old rule of showing and not telling. The protagonist is our narrator for the most part, Fleabag-ing about, until Shireen’s teen version (Kamand Shafieisabet) directly looks at the camera. Leila lets Shireen steal the film, but you know, let her. There are other issues in the film that can make some viewers feel ambivalent.

For example, The Persian Version uses too many 2000s indie songs on its soundtrack which makes the film too much like a period piece even if I loved those songs too. Outside of that, I loved how Leila’s pregnancy mirrors, mild spoilers ahead, Shireen’s second of nine pregnancies. The latter, by the way, becomes pregnant as a teen bride (the scandal is something else, obviously). Any other film would have a reductive take on both women’s stories, but it shows nuance through the clutter. Despite being a teen bride, Shireen is not a victim, and neither is leila. Both women face circumstances that they use to evolve as people. This film shows puts a spin on the old adage that inside the person you dislike has a pain that may never heal, but just because it’s an old adage doesn’t mean it’s not true.