And Life Goes On / Life and Nothing More |
In 1992, Kiarostami filmed Life and Nothing More (aka And Life Goes On).It became known as the second part of a set of films known as The Koker Trilogy. After the 1990 Manjil-Rudbar earthquake in which 40,000 people lost their lives, a filmmaker and his son try to drive to the village of Koker, located in the heart of the region. Searching for the two young actors who played in his film, Where is the Friend’s Home?, the Kiarostami surrogate runs into all sorts of difficulties as he shows still pictures from the film to passersby in the hope of locating the lost boys. Koriostami and his cohort do not find them, but they arrive at something more important, which is to see close up that life does go on. That this conclusion of a spiritual quest is couched in material, everyday terms is entirely consistent with Kiarostami’s attempts to link the ephemeral and the concrete. (x). Kiarostami uses the themes of life, death, change, and continuity to connect the films.
Stuart Jeffries
Saturday April 16, 2005
Guardian
In the third part of the trilogy, the 1994 film Through the Olive Trees, he seemingly peeled back layer after layer of fiction to expose a reality – and then challenged his audience to decide whether what they were seeing was real and if so, what exactly was going on. In Through the Olive Trees, Kiarostami initially seemed to be making a film about the making of And Life Goes On, shooting a film crew as it shot scenes in which Iranians rebuilt their earthquake-devastated homes. But one of the bit-part actors in the film we see being made is also pursuing a woman who thinks he is beneath her.
At the end of the film, he pursues her through some olive trees and across the beautiful Iranian landscape, to the point where they become dots. But the shot never resolves the question of whether she does yield: indeed, instead, as at the end of Close-Up, Kiarostami could well be telling the audience that the intimacies of real-life relationships are none of our business.
Through The Olive Trees |
In 1995 the Iranian cinema achieved its first major international prize, the 1995 Camera d’or at Cannes for “The White Balloon,” scripted by Kiarostami and directed by his former assistant, Jafar Panahi.
But it was the Palme d’Or for Taste of Cherry (1997) that, for many, best demonstrated Kiarostami’s tender humanism and formal genius.
In his dust-covered Range Rover, Mr. Badii (Homayon Ershadi) winds up and down the rocky mountain passes in Tehran’s outskirts. He is searching for someone to perform a simple task—to come to a specified location the following morning and throw 12 spades of dirt on top of a shallow grave in which he will be lying. It is a job, in a country where religion and politics are so delicately interwoven, for which there are few eager applicants….a patient, poetic and profoundly beautiful work that confirmed its director as one of the masters of modern world cinema.
[Wikipedia ]: Taste of Cherry explores the fragility of life and rhetorically focuses on the preciousness of life. Badii, a middle aged apparently healthy and well off Tehrani, cruises the city’s outskirts in his Range Rover trying to find a stranger who will help him commit suicide. Conversations with people on the way gradually convince him of the positivity and preciousness of life. From the young Kurdish soldier who is spooked by the shuddering request to a middle-aged Afghani seminarian who is unable to dissuade Badii with religious sympathy to a Turkish taxidermist at a natural history museum who urges the glories of nature — the taste of cherries — as the prime reason not to kill oneself, Kiarostami evokes a high degree of emphasis on the different elements of life. [15]
Senses of Cinema Mehrnaz Saeed-Vafa: In Taste of Cherry, the reason for Mr. Badii’s suicide is not given to the viewer. Consequently, the audience has to imagine that reason. In Kiarostami’s words, the untold or unexplained parts of his films are created in the minds of his audience. What is presented as obscure or hidden becomes clear and apparent through the audience’s imagination (for example, characters’ motivations and inner worlds). In this way, the audience member becomes responsible for the clarity that she/he expects from the film.
Several of his films involve long takes of protagonists driving in the remote countryside. “He loves nothing more than heading off in a car on his own to photograph rural Iran,” says Geoff Andrew. His films, though, are hardly ever bucolic idylls. Many are shot in or from cars moving through the polluted and congested Iranian capital. “It is in cars,” says Andrew, “that Abbas has found a congenial environment for filming. It is an intimate space where people can talk freely. It’s also a very cheap location.”
At the end of that film, after more than an hour in which the sad-eyed protagonist has been driving around Tehran’s outskirts, looking for someone to bury him to consummate his plan to commit suicide by overdosing on pills and then lying down in a hole in the hills to die an anonymous death, we see the man lying in that hole and looking at the night sky awaiting death. Then the screen goes blank for several moments, after which the film begins again, except that now it is day and we see Kiarostami and his film crew wrapping up on the hillside. Who is that actor wandering around the hill? Wasn’t that the man who played the man who seemingly died in the last shot? Yes it was: Kiarostami was again, in Brechtian mode, drawing attention to the fabrication and confounding viewers’ expectations.
A Taste of Cherry |