After all, cinema is the orchestra of fuming light that plays upon the faces of emotions. Through the gaze of cinema, what we find is infinite void of unknown faces. What they seeing is what I'm hearing. A fundamental question arises, how could cinema exist? Only in the playtime, when the light from projector bless upon the screen, cinema do exist. Look back, there is exit.
SHIRIN -- which is breathtaking, a masterpiece, a true conceptual coup -- above all else returns to the cinema its status as preeminent house of worship. There is much to be unpacked re: the construction of filmed female-centric narratives as a repository for suppressed female desires in a culture that routinely forbids them not only their desires but their very visibility. This is a film of profound visibilities.
The operating principle for the actors seems to be naturalism and nuance, but I found myself stretching for solid footing and projecting emotion onto them more than I actually extracted from their performances- realism looped around into self-negation. Regardless, this is a bold and important experiment.
This film has everything that makes Kiarostami's work something so beautiful, powerful, so hard to figure out. I do feel tempted to talk of women and how they are portrayed in his films. Or about how the figure of the viewer, here, might be the medium. Or how, strangely, after a while, this did feel like the natural way to tell a story. But all is noise. Because his cinema becomes, always, about my experience of it.
Somebody should have filmed me watching this movie. It would have been an hour of curiosity followed by 15 minutes of dozing off followed by 15 minutes of bewilderment. Sad to say, this one falls in line with "Ten" as being a fascinating concept that just doesn't register cinematically.