Nefas, a Canadian journalist of Afghani origin, receives a belated letter from her troubled homeland. In the letter Nefas's sister - who lost her legs to a land mine - informs her that she intends to commit suicide on the last eclipse of the 20th century.

Nefas embarks on a desperate quest to save her sister, reaching the Iran-Afghanistan border with three days to go to the eclipse. Ahead of her lies a landmine infested land where social order has broken down and Taliban rule means that women have basically no rights whatsoever.

Khandahar marks a welcome return to directing for Iranian director Mohsen Makmalbaf after a break during which he performed writing and editing duties on his daughter Samira's films The Apple and Blackboards.

Other than a relatively high quota of English language dialogue, Khandahar delivers pretty much what one would expect from one of the masters of the New Iranian Cinema - deceptive simplicity and sheer poetry.

Neither a documentary nor a fiction film, it successfully inhabits the margins between - and beyond - such labels. The direct, functional, seemingly unmediated filmmaking style creates a space where an image like that of amputees racing on crutches towards the pairs of artificial limbs parachuting from the skies following a Red Cross air drop - to choose only the most striking - can be taken as brilliant imagination, startling observation - or both.

The structuring of the film also impresses. At each stage in Nefas's journey a new guide is introduced via an autonomous segment, establishing their independent existence before Nefas arrives on the scene and the next episode of the main narrative begins. It's a simple device, but works beautifully.

Though Kandahar offers few surprises the formula it follows is pretty close to perfection in my book. Highly recommended.

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