A Film About a Film About a Film - Or Something Real?
Of the Koker Trilogy, this was the one I connected with the least. From the beginning, I struggled to find the thread-I felt confused, unsure what was going on or what Kiarostami was trying to tell me. It took until the middle of the film for things to settle down, for the story to feel clear and stable.
Having watched the previous two films, I couldn't help but question what was real and what was fiction. Was I watching a film about the filming of a film about a film? Or did something real happen during the making of Life and Nothing More...? The deliberate layering felt like a cinematic hall of mirrors, and it left me in a strange place-curious, but also a little lost.
That disorientation especially marked the first half of the film. I didn't know what the director wanted to say. But in the second half-when we step more into the behind-the-scenes world-I started to feel more grounded, more "safe" within the film's logic.
My experience watching Through the Olive Trees was similar to the other two films in tone, but this time, I felt more annoyed than moved. I found myself sharing the same frustration Hossein feels-especially toward Tahereh. She was silent to the point of being emotionally unreadable. I kept asking myself: does she truly have a heart of stone, or is her silence heavy with cultural pressure, class tension, or something unspoken? Kiarostami usually invites us to fill in the gaps-but here, I couldn't fill them properly. The silence didn't open up meaning for me; it just left me uncertain.
And yet, the final long shot changed everything. It's quiet, stretched out, and unresolved-but it speaks volumes about emotional risk and the courage to hope, even when you might be ignored. That final moment gave the film its power.
In the end, Through the Olive Trees asks for a lot of patience. It's not emotionally direct like Where Is the Friend's House?, but it's intellectually rich and thought-provoking. Still, I'm not sure if it completes the trilogy-or if it's just a film that could have been made in another cinematic world.
Having watched the previous two films, I couldn't help but question what was real and what was fiction. Was I watching a film about the filming of a film about a film? Or did something real happen during the making of Life and Nothing More...? The deliberate layering felt like a cinematic hall of mirrors, and it left me in a strange place-curious, but also a little lost.
That disorientation especially marked the first half of the film. I didn't know what the director wanted to say. But in the second half-when we step more into the behind-the-scenes world-I started to feel more grounded, more "safe" within the film's logic.
My experience watching Through the Olive Trees was similar to the other two films in tone, but this time, I felt more annoyed than moved. I found myself sharing the same frustration Hossein feels-especially toward Tahereh. She was silent to the point of being emotionally unreadable. I kept asking myself: does she truly have a heart of stone, or is her silence heavy with cultural pressure, class tension, or something unspoken? Kiarostami usually invites us to fill in the gaps-but here, I couldn't fill them properly. The silence didn't open up meaning for me; it just left me uncertain.
And yet, the final long shot changed everything. It's quiet, stretched out, and unresolved-but it speaks volumes about emotional risk and the courage to hope, even when you might be ignored. That final moment gave the film its power.
In the end, Through the Olive Trees asks for a lot of patience. It's not emotionally direct like Where Is the Friend's House?, but it's intellectually rich and thought-provoking. Still, I'm not sure if it completes the trilogy-or if it's just a film that could have been made in another cinematic world.
- mariosbenjamin
- May 31, 2025