Actor Mohamad Ali Keshavarz explains that he's playing a director during a casting call for a film about an Iranian earthquake, and before long a handheld camera jostles us along a winding and dusty road through northern Iran as the unseen driver discusses the unseen rider's previous work as a school teacher in Where Does the Friend Live?. The man declares that it was easy for him to act the role since he is a schoolteacher. Welcome to the cinematic universe of Abbas Kiarostami—low on effects and plot, but very high on character, Iranian culture, and creative point-of-view camera work. His simple films appear sparse, but the images often profoundly stay with the viewer for a lifetime.
1994's Zire darakhatan zeyton (Through the Olive Trees) is a "typical" Kiarostami film—it exists somewhere on the Twilight Zone continuum between film fiction and reality, and bridges his 1987 Where Does the Friend Live with the subsequent Zendegi edame darad (And Life Goes On... aka Life and Nothing More) in 1991. Major characters from the first film appear in brief cameos near the village of Koker once again, and the dual purposes of this film within a film are to illustrate the tedious process of filming the latter film while focussing in on replacement actor Hossein's (Hossein Rezai) amorous pursuit of the stubbornly unresponsive Tahereh, who has been cast as his new bride.
Paralleling Hossein's challenges with unrequited love are various filming frustrations. Things just don't go smoothly for the director—some can be expected when using amateurish non-actors, while others are caused by cultural hang-ups or relationship problems. The first lead actor stutters when talking to a girl and must be dismissed; Tahereh shows up in a new party skirt instead of the required peasant dress and won't talk to the replacement; and Hossein keeps messing up his lines when he confuses his real life with the scripted one. To call the pacing slow would be grossly understating the case—glacial would be more descriptive when Kiarostami demonstrates take after take after take of the same scene, to the point that we gain the director's point of view and feel like throwing up our hands when an actor screws up.
Come on, Hossein—stop referring to your real family and just use "65" instead of "25," dammit!! But the transferred point of view that Kiarostami achieves highlights the film. We feel like we've been through the directing experience by the end, and many of the lines are indelibly engraved into our minds after numerous repetitions. Despite the sameness of many scenes, small detailed differences surface with each new take—pointing out skill that comes with the desert people of the area, who can recognize a missing member of their sheep herd instantly.
The final minutes are classic Kiarostami. His camera sits perched on top of a hill, overlooking a breezy valley of olive trees, as Hossein pursues Tahereh. The long shots lengthen to even longer shots to the point that the two people are tiny white specks moving across the muted greens of the valley, yet Kiarostami's camera continues to roll on its tripod for another five minutes. Mesmerizingly beautiful composed views of the rugged landscape in real time, unless you're expecting something to happen. Still, many arthouse lovers will find this film rewarding and memorable. Just be thankful that Kiarostami didn't grow up in Antarctica, where he'd film long scenes of complete whiteness instead of the richly subdued olive greens, browns, and greys of northern Iran.
Source: Old School Reviews by John Nesbit
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