As contemplative as watching ocean waves eternally roll in, as soaring as listening to Ave Maria while pigeons flutter about, as mysterious as daydreaming while clouds billow past, and as somber as watching death come from nowhere to stop life in its tracks, yet knowing that nature will simply continue on. Maybe these are the images an artist nearing his own end has in mind, an homage to the beauty of life in its simple, underappreciated moments, and at the same time, a calm acceptance of death.
I loved the concept of this film, particularly in the life that Kiarostami breathed in to Bruegel's Hunters in the Snow in frame 1, but found that what followed a little too similar, and that not knowing the source of inspiration for 21 of the next 23 frames to be a detractor. It's certainly immersive and meditative, demanding patience of the viewer or a frame of mind that allows simple images to wash over oneself, but at 114 minutes, nearly 5 minutes a frame, it seemed too much for me.
The final frame, containing the kiss between Teresa Wright and Dana Andrews at the end of The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) played in very slow motion on a computer screen, while trees sway outside in the darkness, is stirring, powerful stuff. The only thing we have are these moments when we cling to one another, and if only we could slow them down. I just wish the music selected for this piece was something more poetic than Andrew Lloyd Weber's Love Never Dies, and that it hadn't taken so long to get to it.
I loved the concept of this film, particularly in the life that Kiarostami breathed in to Bruegel's Hunters in the Snow in frame 1, but found that what followed a little too similar, and that not knowing the source of inspiration for 21 of the next 23 frames to be a detractor. It's certainly immersive and meditative, demanding patience of the viewer or a frame of mind that allows simple images to wash over oneself, but at 114 minutes, nearly 5 minutes a frame, it seemed too much for me.
The final frame, containing the kiss between Teresa Wright and Dana Andrews at the end of The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) played in very slow motion on a computer screen, while trees sway outside in the darkness, is stirring, powerful stuff. The only thing we have are these moments when we cling to one another, and if only we could slow them down. I just wish the music selected for this piece was something more poetic than Andrew Lloyd Weber's Love Never Dies, and that it hadn't taken so long to get to it.