“A beautiful and almost soothing experience.”

Remember The Clash’s 1982 classic hit, “Should I Stay or Should I Go”? That’s the dilemma at the heart of Amir Azizi’s character study Inside Amir, a film that is not only an exploration of the tussle between staying or going, between being comforted by the familiar or taking the leap, but also a love letter to the city of Tehran and its people. A keen observation on male vulnerability, Inside Amir has its own rhythm and more than a tinge of melancholy while being very light on plot. The emotional trajectory of its protagonist is more important, as it follows his journey to realizing he has to let go.

Amir (Amirhossein Hosseini) is on the verge of emigrating to Italy, following in the footsteps of his girfriend Tara (Hadis Nazari). As he is waiting for embassy approval, he roams through the bustling streets of Tehran on his trusted bicycle, be it for his job as a delivery man or to visit friends and family. They all have their own stories about leaving Iran and encountering the difficulties of life abroad, from his friend Nader (Nader Pourmahin) who tried to reset his life in Brazil to his uncle (Sohrab Mahdavi) telling him how he messed up his marriage while living in New York. A more metaphoric parallel to Amir being bound to Tehran is Pirouz (Pirouz Nemati), who has to wear an ankle monitor for some unspecified offense in order to keep him inside a certain perimeter within the city.

As he reflects on what keeps him within his own perimeter, Amir looks back at his life with Tara, from their first meeting at a grocery store to riding the streets from dusk till dawn. These scenes act as a counterweight to the equally warm scenes of male bonding between Amir, Pirouz, Nader, and the latter’s partner Nariman (Nariman Farrokhi); the relationship between Nader and Nariman is a world of its own in openly depicting a gay relationship and giving a deaf actor (Farrokhi) a chance to shine in a role where his disability is not a plot point. The connecting fibers are Amir’s phone conversations with Tara, a mix between her enthusiasm and his doubts, even if his uncle impresses upon him that he was meant to be with Tara; a few years before, Amir chose to stay with her and by doing so avoided a fatal car accident that took his father’s life and left his mother in a coma. The uncle’s story and flashbacks to Amir by his mother’s bedside unfortunately do not elucidate on her current state, but Tara is the symbol of the life that was given to him since that accident.

Azizi’s quiet observations of Amir’s journey, which is rooted in personal experience, guide the understanding of the feelings that are pulling Amir in both directions. The decision to also show Tara together with Amir and not just relegate her to a voice on a phone call is smart, just as it is to temper the drama in the interactions with his friends. Amir’s situation is obviously discussed, but over friendly games of table tennis or backgammon, or while enjoying food, either in its preparation or while eating it. Food is one of those things that reminds you of home and makes you long to go back, so it plays an important role in the film as well, but it is more the oil that greases the conversations between friends. Their interactions are filled with warmth and physical contact, showing a willingness to be open and vulnerable (an overhead shot of the four friends sleeping partially on top of each other, forming a closed square, is a lovely and subtle reminder of the strength of their bond). Hosseini’s face, a mixture of melancholy and resignation, and perhaps even his whole body language, are an expression of Amir knowing what he is going to miss.

But he will have to follow his heart and his love, he knows it. Probably the moment he truly realizes it is in the film’s anchoring scene, one that only has him in the background and out of focus except for the last moments. As he delivers a letter to a young woman (Delaram Kamareh), she gives him a big tip and invites him in because he is the bearer of good news. She is a pianist and singer, and she wants to play him the piece that won over some elusive composer. The piece is called Amore (“That’s Italian for ‘love’,” she explains), which links it to Tara. As she sings the beautiful, haunting song about a fairy that fell in love with a man who loved another, we see Amir’s image in a mirror, and his body language, even if he hardly moves, shows a decision, which is punctuated when he comes into focus at the end of the song. Is Tehran the fairy, or Tara? Whoever it is, just for this scene alone the film is worth the watch.

Inside Amir, however, is much more than just that scene. Azizi’s steady hand paints a bittersweet picture of a difficult choice, and a portrait of a young man floating on the memories and rhythms of a city. This is a film as much about space as it is about just the subject of staying or going. This is not a film with a political mission or a societal message; the human condition in its purest form is central here. That can lead to the film meandering too much for some audiences, but as an image of modern Tehran and the human connections between those who inhabit it or have inhabited it, this is a beautiful and almost soothing experience.