Typically enigmatic Kiarostami film (although one not without some deadpan comedy, and with all the inherent geographic and cultural fascination associated with his work for Western audiences) winds through his previous work and themes, and through the remote Iranian village in which it's set, as gracefully and surely as a river (a somewhat fearsome one, for all its calmness). It's about (apparently) a group of photographers or filmmakers - only one of whom is ever seen directly - awaiting a mysterious ceremony that will follow an ailing old woman's death (actually, I'm not entirely sure of the accuracy of even that broad a synopsis) but although the narrative may be in part a death watch, the film itself is "a subtle personal debate about the value of being alive" (a beautiful one-line summary by Deborah Young of Variety). The film strikes a mystical balance between its parched environment and the signs of the modern world: the process of getting the cell phone to work forms a recurring pattern, warily intertwining with fragments of old poems and evocations of antiquity, mystery and ritual. The ending was, to me, more satisfying than in his last film A Taste Of Cherry, but the film really requires a second viewing: after seeing it just once, you walk away slightly deflated - even indignant - at having largely failed its navigational challenge.
Review of The Wind Will Carry Us
