Reviews

Perhaps the title I used is baffling to some, for the minimalism of the camerawork is often little more than one or two cameras fixed to the truck, the lack of a soundtrack, the long, quiet scenes, the emotional distance, and the lack of an explanation for why the main character wants to commit suicide is already alienating enough for most. What I'm speaking of in particular, however, are the metanarrative elements featured at the end. I really don't feel this ending significantly affects the core of the film. I vacillate on whether I prefer having it or not. It's just kind of there--not good or bad, rather neutral even. What precedes it could have easily been an ending itself, but perhaps it felt too simple, too much like your average film, despite its ambiguity. Maybe it was even too dark of a note to end on in Kiarostami's mind. I've read that Kiarostami tended to feel uncomfortable crafting his films as normal stories; there always had to be some kind of convention-breaking technique, so a somewhat jarring metanarrative sequence seems to be utilized for this purpose. I honestly think the film is simply too good to be concerned with this scene, that may or may not be there due to Kiarostami's artistic insecurities or out of a necessity to create a more artistically nuanced film. However, some might find Jonathan Rosenbaum's rejoinder to Ebert's scathing review enlightening; Ebert criticizes the ending as a "distancing strategy," but Rosenbaum sees it as the opposite, giving plausible reasons all the while. I'm not sure I'm fully convinced by everything he says, but it's worth a look, and the segment can be read on Taste of Cherry's Wikipedia page. I've chosen to open with commentary on the ending because this is probably the most contentious element of the film, and I will return to the subject later.

If you were to start watching without reading the synopsis, it might take a while to figure out what's going on. For long stretches, the main character, Badii, just drives his truck around in circles, trying to build enough rapport with various men, to the point that he feels he can request their help with overseeing his suicide. Essentially, he has already dug a grave, and they are to check whether he is still alive in the morning. If he is alive, they will pull him out of the grave. If he is dead, they will bury him. He's offering a large amount of money to complete the job. He has several failed solicitations before he finally reveals his motive.

Badii's failure to state his exact reason for committing suicide is probably an attempt to speak of suicide more generally. It's not a personal story of suicidal intent with the intricate details and introspection that would entail--the intent seems to be universalization. The only thing that can maybe be ruled out is that his choice is because of a lack of money. Would-be laborers, desperate for work, are shown at the start, and an immediate impulse might be to assume his reason is one of economic uncertainty, but Badii has plenty of cash. The actual reason is probably more abstract or spiritual. Still, his current occupation is never discussed, and though he has a big sum of money, it will eventually dry up. Labor is a human need that is usually required in some form for a satisfactory life. Though I don't know anything about this period of Iran's history, every single character Badii speaks to in length is a refugee (none of whom seem to be doing well monetarily), and the seeming economic downturn or labor shortage exhibited by the men at the beginning of the film suggests not only Iran, but the general region, is going through a difficult period.

There are three main encounters. The first is with a rather shy soldier, revealing that Badii was also formerly a soldier, and it was a very happy time in his life. According to the interaction, it seems that the nature of the Iranian military has changed compared to when Badii was enlisted, and its current state lacks the satisfaction of his memories. This is perhaps a clue of what is lacking for Badii, but he never becomes too specific about anything. The second encounter was with a seminarist. I scoffed that Badii would even consider asking a Muslim or any religious person to help him with such a task as suicide, but the theological debate is a necessary component for a very in-depth exploration of suicide. When it's brought up that while suicide is a sinful act, it's also sinful to harm people, and Badii's lingering, lashing out as one is likely to do when discontent, leads to the frequent harm of other people, I think it's at least clear that his reason transcends base materiality... that his reason(s) are of a more spiritual, abstract, or metaphysical nature. The third encounter is with a Turkish man. Though Badii did most of the talking with the soldier, and there was a bit of back and forth with the seminarist, he lets the Turk do almost all of the talking. Though he desperately needs the reward Badii is offering, he inexorably gives his best pitch to talk Badii out of committing suicide. The Turk had himself attempted suicide years ago and rebounded from his despair due to a seemingly inane occurrence, a simple joy dissuading him from following through, he alleges. His lyricism leads him to refer to another simple pleasure, after which the film is titled. The tree the Turk chose was a mulberry tree, and the mulberries are a central part of his story, just as the cherries from the cherry tree could be for Badii.

The encounter with the soldier ends abruptly and is barely a conversation. With the seminarist it is a conversation with a peaceful parting of ways, but there is no agreement. Notable is the monotonous sound design and the circuitous dirt roads with the first two. And, finally, with the Turk, there's a monologue with the intended resolution that Badii desires. The Turk even requests they take another route, and there's finally a change of scenery, replete with more greenery and life, and there is a destination, as opposed to the aimlessness of the prior encounters. From many scenes onward, it even seems that the Turk was very persuasive, and Badii is having second thoughts, truly juggling with life versus death, instead of pure suicidal intent. To see things as they are from many angles is helpful, but ultimately, it's a solitary choice that Badii confronts.

Most of the supposed weaknesses the viewers see in the film, I see as strengths. Potentially, it's all rather alienating, or even boring, to some viewers. But Kiarostami is not concerned with the minute personal details of a single character in this work of fiction. He wants to focus on the larger concept and the debate around the concept and to apply these themes more broadly. There are merits to going down either path. Kiarostami made a choice, and many people would prefer he made the other choice. And that's understandable. Aside from the debate on life and death, there's also the filmic techniques. In some ways they are crude (though I think they're far more palatable than the similarly filmed Ten). There's the occasional camera filming the truck from afar, but in many cases there are just two cameras that cut back and forth to show the scenery outside the window or the two different actors. There's nothing flashy here. It moves at such a serene pace that it feels like the viewer is spending the entire day with Badii, basking in all his grief and loneliness. There's no sentiment or cue to be sad as would usually be found in a soundtrack. There's the sound of the wind, of birds, nature, tire against gravel and the hum of the engine, and nothing more. Everything is competently done, but never to the point that it distracts or draws attention away from the mundanity and universality of Badii's plight.

In the atmospheric closing scene (before the true metanarrative ending sequence), with its fade to black, heralded with the sound and light of the elements in the dark, there is no conclusion. We don't know what his choice is. This, along with the limited details leads me to believe that it is indeed the universalization of this meditation concerning life and death, of suicide or the decision to carry on, that is central to the film. One likely reason for this device is to internalize some of what was discussed and our own thoughts concerning the topic, and to then redirect them not to the fictive universe that Badii inhabits, but our own existences and the existences of others. The actor playing Badii is shown walking amongst the crew. The metanarrative ending presents us with a scene of collective creation instead of the telegraphed ending of the choice between life or death. To a shared interest and a stake in something, much like Badii must have experienced while in the military. In some sense it's a culmination of many details throughout the movie. It's an uncanny mixture of documentary footage and an acting out of a fictional past with a regiment of soldiers, a representation of Badii's happiest moments. The tree at full bloom looms near, presumably the same one Badii dug a grave under. The Turk's botched suicide also involved himself hanging from a similar tree. Although it ends on a more pleasant note, we're intentionally left with no answers, because Badii's choice, the dissatisfaction leading up to it, and a search for meaning is something we all experience to some extent, even for those of us who don't externalize it all to the dramatic binary of suicide or not suicide, as Badii has done.

The story of how the main got into this situation and the tension leading up to his car breaking down outside of the recording studio feels like filler. It does help suspend the audience's disbelief of him entering into this situation because he assumes the police are after him for a crime, and calling a tow truck might get him caught, but all the backstory with Leland Palmer was really boring. It was very stylish, however, when they used that long zoom to focus on the road of a local map, then transitioned to a helicopter shot of said road with the main's car, followed by another zoom upon the car and transitioning inside of the car, but not much else is notable for the first half.

A broadcast on AM1200 arouses his attention and his car breaks down when he investigates. Great use of the mysterious man with the flashlight. Inside of the building, the lighting and sound design are at their peak, with plenty of lighting practicals, flickering light, and ominous industrial music and white noise.

The confrontation with the rambling mental patient is amusing and hints and some greater, Lovecraftian evil. A demonic entity seems to be able to transfer itself from host to host via some unexplained manner.

Probably the most interesting unexplained element is the man with the flashlight, who the possessed main character signals by turning the lights on and off (it's very peculiar that he allowed the man inside to remain handcuffed, even though he seemed to be doing... the "devil's" work? Flashlight man is the star of the film and will make any viewer swoon!)

Then the possessed main feeds a strange monster inside of a hole with a massive face, which we only ever see part of--an eye here, a mouth there. Since he feeds the last man who was possessed, it seems to be a cycle, where, whoever is lured to the station, becomes possessed by the entity, and hacks up the former servant. I feel like too much of the creature was shown (which might be okay if they were using more traditional effects, instead of the CGI).

Overall, it's an okay supernatural horror that's fairly well-made, but there's nothing very interesting about the story, and while there are some unexplained elements, it doesn't present itself like a wonderful mystery or great cosmic horror and it has a rather slow start.

Alternatively titled Horror Hotel, which is admittedly a more fitting title, seeing as the outdoor set that consists of no more than a few wooden facades (with spooky low-hanging fog) can hardly be seen as a city. Not sure if one influenced the other or not, but the setup is similar to Psycho (also 1960), where the main heroine disappears after the first half and people whom she knows search for her.

It begins with a witch being burnt at the stake (the puritans with the hats sure look funny). The story is fairly predictable, with a fun villain played by Christopher Lee, who lures young women to be sacrificed on two occasions of the year. It's amazing his activity hasn't attracted much attention, since he seems to recruit the women from university classes held in his swanky room with a plethora of interesting artifacts related to witchcraft or tribal superstitions and loads of expensive alcoholic beverages (nice advertising shot for afficionados). His success as a lecturer hinges on getting his students hammered, obviously (really bad pun). Seems weird for such a little town to have two university girls disappear each year... and somehow related to Lee's character...

You know you're going to a good place when it's always night time and the fog is unrelenting, and some weird guy named Jethro (looks and sounds like a serial killer) hitches a ride with two different young women and disappears before even opening the door, then you're given obvious red flags by a servant woman who has a speech impediment, a crazy, old blind man, and the mean horse-faced villainess.

The often film noir-esque lighting is the highlight of the film. Sufficiently spooky with rich, high contrast blacks and whites-many of the interiors are well-lit, though not draped in darkness--but the inn in particular has deep pools of blackness, many practical lights strewn about the frame--such as a burning fireplace and lamps--and a heavily flickering light from above that appears to be simulating a torch. Really excellent example of horror film lighting here. Even the stereotypical horror set really looks quite nice, though a softer, grainier image and maybe a bit less low-hanging fog might have made it look more convincing (but, frankly, the obviously fake graveyard is great), but that's just a minor quibble. Art direction and score are also decent for a b-horror film (the chants remind me a bit of The Wicker Man).

One of the more interesting parts is probably how they perfectly mirror the walking scene of both Nan and Richard. The denizens all stop at the exact same locations to watch both the hero and heroine--even the camera work appears to be the same, if not roughly the same. Definitely gives the impressions that those who inhabit the town are long dead and have repeated the same process since 1692.

Though I'm rating it a 4, I did enjoy the film, and I'd recommend it to those looking for a decent B&W supernatural b-movie horror.