Kiarostami at tiff, Epilogue
A few weeks ago, a friend asked me why Abbas Kiarostami is my favorite film director. Having just written an essay about him, I recounted what I had said there. I meant all of those things, but as the words left my mouth, they rang hollow.
When I decided to escalate my support of the TIFF Bell Lightbox to sponsorship level, I didn’t have anything specific in mind. I reached out to TIFF and had a series of conversations with members of their team. We mostly talked about the value of movie theaters, the Lightbox itself, and a lot about, well, movies. Lots of different movies. When I have conversations about movies, which is often, Abbas Kiarostami always comes up. I didn’t suggest a retrospective of his films, though. That was 100% their idea.
My reaction, naturally, was that if they want to do a retrospective of my favorite director, I’m not going to say no! But inside, I was a little worried. Coming out of COVID’s period of “deep streaming,” I wondered: is Kiarostami too much? Is the best way to get people out to the theater to show slow cinema? To show experimental films? To show films that are 30–40 years old? To show cinema that is foreign in so many senses of the word?
My reservations were misplaced. The series, which wrapped last night, was a smashing success. The first two screenings sold out, and the final five screenings were assigned to a larger theatre. Those all sold out as well. As it turned out, people were yearning for just this sort of escape — an escape from escapism.
It was a joy to see these movies on the big screen again and, in one breathtaking case, for the first time. I had not appreciated the depth of visual and emotional beautiful in Through the Olive Trees until last week.
All great films are made to be shown straight through on a big screen; Kiarostami’s, even more so. He had a rare ability to set a pace and draw you into it. He created rhythm through repetition — sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious — through patience, and, somehow, through unpredictability.
Very often, Kiarostami was himself a conspicuous observer within his films. In the most extreme case, in Olive Trees, we have travelled through the looking glass to a place there are three versions of Kiarostami on the screen simultaneously. Kiarostami himself is the implicit fourth Kiarostami behind the camera.
“I like my half-finished cinema to be vague,” he once said, “I like ambiguities. I am a filmmaker who asks audiences to make more effort than usual, to bask in temporary confusion, and by so doing express themselves.”
This is true, but what he leaves out is that his own reassuring presence. Kiarostami seems to sit next to you, perhaps holding your hand, and you take the mysterious journey together.
Why is Abbas Kiarostami my favorite filmmaker? Because he takes you to new places — places in Iran, specifically — in a way that feels completely authentic , and simultaneously to an internal space that primes you to be with the people on the screen. Ahmad’s fearless search for his Friend’s Home, Hossein Rezai’s lovesick boy’s face on his young man’s body; the patriarch of the Ahankhah family saying of Hossain Sabzian, “We hope he makes us proud.” These moments and others open wells of empathy, wells that feel bottomless. These moments stir me for days, years, even decades.
·
Because of its popularity, TIFF has added one more screening to the retrospective. Close-Up will be shown again this Wednesday, June 29, at 6PM. Get your tix ASAP, as I suspect it will sell out :)
ISTIC ILLIC will sponsor another series at the Lightbox next year. I hope to see you there.
