Over a long opening shot that follows a car as it winds its way around the countryside, we hear men having a conversation. What they say isn’t all that important, though they repeatedly mention looking for a specific tree. The tree is the landmark on the way to their destination. There’s a particular comfort that comes from following directions like that rather than the meticulous plotting of GPS. It implies a level of intimacy from the direction-givers, as well as a level of trust from the direction-takers: If you’ll get where you’re meant to be. It’s important that we don’t see the men while we listen to them talk. It’s more important for us, the viewers, to settle in and take in the beauty of the hills, the grass, the trees, the sky, and everything else the camera captures. It’ll be important for the men in the car as well, but that’s something they’ll have to learn over the course of the film.
Abbas Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us has all the hallmarks of the late Iranian director’s work. A simple plot gives way to an emotionally complex and deep narrative about human connection. The film is full of lengthy shots that allow the characters to come to life and allow the performances to breathe. The world of the film is lived in, bringing viewers into a fully formed world and letting the nuance of everyday life take precedence.
The languid pace allows the film to spend time with multiple people and build out the village. Like the first meeting between Farzad, a pre-teen who shows Behzad around the village, and Behzad (Behzad Dorani). As they talk, Farzad leads Behzad up the steep and rocky hill to his village before telling him there are other, easier ways to get there. This scene works as a metaphor on a couple levels. The first is that it upends Behzad’s expectations for how his trip will go. The second way gets at one of Kiarostami’s recurring themes: life is circuitous.
Behzad is a documentarian visiting the Siah Dareh with the intention of filming the communities rituals after someone passes away. There’s an elderly woman who is sick and nearing the end, and Behzad is laying in wait. While waiting he spends time with various people throughout the village in their day to day lives. Behzad is there under the guise of an engineer, hiding his true purpose. There’s a distance between Behzad and the people he meets that he can’t close. That’s really the central tension of the film. In the booklet accompanying the film’s Criterion release, the cast is listed as “Behzad Dorani and The Villagers of Siah Dareh.”
One thing that immediately stands out is how accommodating the villagers are. It starts with Farzad. He’s in the midst of testing at school and focused on that, but he repeatedly takes time to show Behzad around. Early in the film Behzad asks about getting fresh milk and is disappointed when he can’t get it. Yet, later in the film, when he’s found someone to milk a goat for him, Behzad is focused on reciting poetry to the teenage girl doing the milking. He offers to pay for the milk, after interrupting the work of the girl and her family, only for the family to return the money and tell Behzad he’s an honored guest. In one of the film’s standout scenes, Behzad is at a small cafe when he tries to take pictures of the older woman in charge and is immediately scolded by her. Behzad is a selfish man in a selfless community. But, he’s still worthy of grace and welcoming, both of which the villagers offer.
As the film progresses, another of Kiarostami’s fascinations comes to the fore. The meta examination of life through an interloper trying to document something real and genuine reveals the artifice of Behzad’s work. By capturing life and death and their rituals on film, Behzad is introducing a level of falseness. Everyone in Siah Dareh goes about their daily business, but Behzad’s presence breaks up the rhythm of daily life. So whatever he’s hoping to document is not going to be “real” in the way it would be without him or his camera. It’s only fitting that when the death he’s been waiting for finally happens, Behzad isn’t ready for it.
Late in the film there is a wonderful conversation between Behzad and a local doctor. The doctor speaks dubiously about the alleged beauty of the afterlife and what lies ahead for us in death, asking rhetorically, “but who has come back to tell us?” It’s maybe the most eloquent and succinct expression for savoring each moment and every day we’re lucky to get. This comes after he’s spoken on the pleasures life has to offer, between people and nature. As he says this, he and Behzad are riding on a scooter, in a gorgeous shot with wheat and long grass blowing in the wind. It’s a tremendous note to end the film on, with Kiarostami rewarding the trust given to him by viewers.
The Wind Will Carry Us enters the Criterion Collection with a lovingly curated blu-ray edition. The film’s 4K restoration gives the images new life, looking like it could’ve been filmed last week rather than a quarter century ago. The extras include Yuji Mohara’s feature-length making of doc A Week with Kiarostami, a lengthy 2002 interview with Kiarostami, and a video essay by Kiarostami’s translator and creative collaborator Massoumeh Lahiji. The booklet essay is by novelist and poet Kaveh Akbar.
