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A car slowly traverses a winding road. Someone in the car leans out to ask for directions. A young boy frets over his schoolwork. Two friends walk through a gorgeous river grove. An old woman lies on her deathbed, attended to by family and neighbors. People talk, people share, people wait. Through it all, a camera stands discreetly in the distance, watching.

These narrative moments are familiar tropes in the work of Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami. From films like Where is the Friend's House? and Through the Olive Tress to his Cannes-winning Taste of Cherry, Kiarostami has used these recurring images to reflect and amplify our shared humanity, to explore the mysteries of life and beauty, and to contemplate the nature of death. His movies, which take place almost exclusively in his country's mountain villages, offer small glimpses of people's lives and yet open up the vast panorama of the human condition.

The Wind Will Carry Us, Kiarostami's latest film, is another subtle meditation on these themes. A man, consistently referred to as "the engineer," drives from Tehran to a remote village. Accompanying him are his "crew," two faceless men who we'll only hear from but never see. Not quite sure of where they're going, they meet a young boy who gives them directions. Their mission is somewhat mysterious; "if anyone asks, say we're looking for treasure," the engineer jokes with the boy.

In the village, the three proceed to wait. Their purpose has something to do with an old woman who's dying. Whether they're there to help her or pay their last respects or something entirely different is unclear. The crew spend most of their time eating strawberries, while the engineer flirts with the local women, attempts to find fresh milk, and takes calls on his cell phone.

This last activity requires the man to leave the village for higher ground. Each time, we see his car maneuver up the dusty and sharply-curved road to the top of the hill, the site of the village's graveyard. There, he meets a local ditch digger, another character we hear but never see.

If the storyline sounds somewhat simple and oblique, that too is a trait common to Kiarostami's films. In Where is the Friend's House?, Kiarostami's first major feature, the plot centered almost exclusively on a young boy trying to deliver a homework assignment to a friend. And Life Goes On, the second in a trilogy that ended with Through the Olives Trees, dealt with someone trying to locate an acquaintance after a devastating earthquake. Taste of Cherry was the account of an old man trying to find someone willing to bury him. Unlike in those films, the protagonist of The Wind Will Carry Us finds his object in the movie's first scene, but this initial discovery only leads to more uncertainty--the "trying" shifts to a different focus.

The narrative has never been the focal point in any of Kiarostami's films, however--a fact that certainly has much to do with his lack of popular success in the U.S. Instead, the story is merely a frame for his larger concerns: how do we see? what can we see? what are we truly looking for? and what will we do when we find it?

The aspect of seeing is especially important in The Wind Will Carry Us. Kiarostami's evocative and sometimes arresting camera placements cause us to consider our own perspective. His fondness for extreme long shots, particularly of cars set against the countryside, provoke us to ponder our significance in light of the beauty of creation. And how beautiful it is in this movie! The flowing grain in the fields, the trees growing by the peaceful brook, even the dust of the mountains shimmer and testify to nature's grandeur.

The camera, though, is not just a recorder of splendor; it also acts as a mirror (literally, in one fantastic scene) reflecting humanity's common bonds. The engineer, though he has little in common with the people he's talking to (he's sophisticated and worldly, they're humble peasant folk), is able to transcend those differences. He does so primarily by quoting poems, sayings, and stories that he learned as a child. Often, the person he's speaking with will join him midway through the recitation, and they'll finish together. Now they understand each other; now their differences are stripped away.

This moment of communion occurs in other Kiarostami films as well. The end of Through the Olive Trees is a wonderful long take of a boy suddenly realizing his beloved wants him to follow her. The conclusion of Close Up finds our protagonist riding on the back of his hero's motorcycle, grabbing the latter's waist and discussing their shared love of film. And the closing shot in Taste of Cherry is an otherwise odd video of Kiarostami himself and his film crew jovially resting on a hillside, a moment that takes on great resonance when you consider this theme of communion.

But the camera isn't always a unifying force. Sometimes it emphasizes the vast distance that separates us. Other times the camera itself comes between and divides, as in one scene when the engineer attempts to surreptitiously photograph an assembly. Culture and shared stories can bring people together, but those same forces can highlight what we don't understand about each other.

The same will be true of The Wind Will Carry Us For many Americans, its unfamiliar formal aspects, its lack of a traditional narrative structure, and even its director's nationality will be enough to discourage them from grasping the film's message and beauty. For others, however, the common stories of nature, waiting, and death will be the bridge across the cultural divide. 

J. Robert Parks 12/5/2000