Through the Olive Trees, the latest movie from Iranian director Abbas
Kiarostami (and the third in an unofficial trilogy of which the first two
chapters were Where is the Friend's Home? and And Life Goes
On...), is an art-film lover's art film. Slow almost to the point of
stagnation, the movie serves the dual function of a character/relationship study
and a firsthand look at the difficulties of making a motion picture in the rural
regions of Iran. If you've never had the unique experience of simultaneously
being bored and fascinated by a movie, Through the Olive Trees is a
likely candidate for the first opportunity.
I didn't fall asleep during the film, but many patrons in the theater
understandably did. Nothing much happens during the one-hundred minute running
time. There are long periods of inactivity, including a climactic ten-minute
shot of one person chasing after another. There's no dialogue during this scene,
and the only sound (other than the music) is the wind rustling through the olive
trees. Those without a tolerance for slow, deliberate movies will find this a
trial beyond belief. It's not much of stretch to call this the cinematic
equivalent of a Sominex.
The seemingly-turgid pace is necessary, however. Had things moved faster,
numerous subtle and intricate touches would have been lost. The characters are
all marvelously realized, and their interaction is so unforced that it draws the
viewer in. Kiarostami has used carefully-framed point- of-view camera shots to
emphasize the intimacy of his picture. This movie puts the audience right next
to the actors.
The story is simple. A film director is making a movie in the Iranian
countryside. He recruits local actors, but when shooting begins, a problem comes
to light. His male lead, a young man named Hossein (playing himself), is madly
in love with his fifteen-year old female co-star, Tahereh (playing herself).
Because of Hossein's illiteracy and homelessness, a marriage is impossible, at
least from the perspective of Tahereh's grandmother (who is also her guardian).
Undaunted, the young man continues to pledge his undying love. For her part,
Tahereh is busy studying for her exams and the last thing she wants is to engage
in a conversation -- any conversation -- with the ardent suitor she wishes would
go away. A finer cinematic portrait of unrequited love has not been seen since
Manon of the Spring.
Not only is the courtship (such as it is) of Tahereh and Hossein presented
with a rare and unflinching honesty, but we are not given an opportunity
to find out how things are resolved. The film's ending is open to interpretation
and reminds us that movies are only windows into another reality, and it's
possible for them to close at the most inopportune times.
Moments of comedy are sprinkled throughout, often relating to the
difficulties experienced by the director of the film-within-the-film as he
attempts to get uncooperative performers to complete a take. This device of
having actors playing the actors who filmed one of Kiarostami's previous films
(the on-screen director is actually actor Mohamad Ali Keshavarz playing
Kiarostami) creates opportunities for confusion, but mostly it lends an air of
verisimilitude to the proceedings that results in a documentary-like style.
Kiarostami, a master of camera angles, uses a preponderance of deceptively
simple shots to give his production a perspective that's very different from
that of most current feature releases.
Through the Olive Trees is an exceptionally well-crafted and
thoughtful motion picture. There is no melodrama here -- this is straightforward
drama without frills or flourishes. Nevertheless, there are many -- even among
the art-film crowd -- who will find this to be a colossal waste of time.
American/Iranian cultural differences are an issue, but the real obstacle is the
pacing. Those who fall under Kiarostami's spell will find themselves mesmerized.
Everyone else will get a nice nap.
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