Shirin (2008) User Reviews (9)

Kiarostami's Hymn to Women

[steve-tiller1 · 8/10 · 30 June 2009]

This is an amazing film.

I knew very little about it when I went except that 'all it showed' was a lot of women's faces watching a film ... What I experienced, however, was a brilliant - and daring - piece of multi-layered cinema. Yes, 'all we watch' are the faces of a group of 140 (apparently) Iranian women - plus Juliet Binoche - watching the traditional story of Shirin, an Armenian Queen.

We hear the soundtrack (and, in my case, read the subtitles) and see the women's reactions. But we never see what they see. They are looking past and beyond us.

The first thing that strikes one is the beauty of - and in - the faces of these women - and how beautifully Kiarostami lights and shoots them. Not to mention the complex and subtle rhythms of the edit. Women from their late teens into their sixties achingly expressive like renaissance portraiture ...Holbein or Velasquez or some of the Dutch masters come to mind ... And even after is had dawned that some, or perhaps all, of these faces might belong to actresses, each cunningly made up, the layers of the film, for me, only deepened: here, after all, is the dialectic of actors being watched - 'as themselves'.

Because, we wonder, are they aware that they are being filmed, watched? Of course. Kiarostami would have explained the set-up to them. That must be why he has managed to persuade so many famous and attractive Iranian women actors to take part; what a show reel for them! But through this choice, the director allows us to watch them while wondering how much they might, at any one point, be 'acting'? How much they are aware from moment to moment, these 'fakers', these 'deceivers', that they are being observed? And when, as they become engrossed in elements of the story, they forgot? And become 'themselves'.

And they do become engrossed. The tears flow. As did mine - watching their tears. They flinch when swords scythe, when heads and hands are chopped off. They lower their eyes with a memory of their own. Or in horror. They smile with recognition. Their faces light up. Darken.

So much is shown. But so much is not revealed. So much work is left to our imaginations.

And of course, there is the whole layer of these women being Iranian. A culture we don't know. Or think we know and dismiss out of hand, or patronise out of our ignorance. Every one of the women - even Juiette Binoche - is wearing a headscarf, headscarves that themselves become expressive of the wearer's individuality. How they drape them. Each one, like each face, unique. How each scarf lies. How each scarf frames the face. How the women themselves move the folds and adjust them, or play with, or arrange the material, unconsciously, as they watch...

And on another level, a deeper level, it's a great choice of Kiarostami's, that the film they are watching is about Shirin, a strong women, a lover, a hero Queen - an epic story crammed with sex, passion, betrayal, longing, lust and all expressed in the most heightened language and emotion. Because, as we watch these women watching, we know that they have, collectively, experienced all of this. Their eyes tell us that. Their tears. Their little smiles of recognition. Their open and child-like faces.

This is the ultimate success of the film. We meet 140 Iranian women. And one French one - also a clever choice ... We have a chance to watch them intimately. We, in the dark, watch them in the dark, watching. We fall in love with them; no less so the older ones, whose faces are etched with life. We know, young and old, they have all lived and had lives and loves and children, some of them, and grief and failures and loss and triumph over odds. And yet we know nothing of their stories. The details. Yet yearn to know them. The unknowable.

This is a film which gives the lie to a million clichés and 'certainties' about Iran, and 'freedom' and Islam and 'The Other'. I do recommend people to find a place to see it. But in a cinema. On a big screen. After all, it's an epic - but on a vibrantly human scale.

a cinema, an audience, a poem.

[afair · 7/10 · 19 September 2008]

Kiarostami has proved here that one can reach the truth of cinema by the most direct route, to examine the faces of the women members of a film audience while they watch, an unseen to us, film of the great 12th century Persian epic poem, 'Khosrow and Shirin' Kiorstami's slow tracking camera traces the faces of 114 famous Iranian actresses and one famous French actress. Despite the potential for a forensic piece, the work is in fact a poetic study of the feminine face that recognises the emotional as well as intellectual process involved in watching a film. We are caught in a kind of mise en abyme of spectatorship and although we are never given the opportunity to see the film these faces respond to we are, nevertheless, caught in the narrative of the romantic epic, the faces themselves display the richness and complexity of a reading; tears, smiles, quizzical glances, the turning away through lowered lids, all of these responses combine to form a group portrait as symphonic construction. It may sound like watching paint dry but in fact the film is a welcome relief from the kind of action cinema that has become a numbing experience in contemporary cinema. The chance to see beauty is rare in cinema today, here we are allowed time to relish the female face. We might see this film as returning us to the early cinema of Hollywood that rejoiced in the first truly cinematic rhetorical trope, the close-up. In this sense 'Shirin' is a triumphant celebration of cinema itself.

A frustrating but also endearing piece of difficult simplicity

[MaxBorg89 · 8/10 · 4 October 2008]

Filmmakers like David Lynch or early Darren Aronofsky (Pi) have been branded as experimental, extreme, uncommercial. Okay, so their work is occasionally difficult, but at least they know how to reach out to the audience. Abbas Kiarostami's Shirin, on the other hand, gives a new definition to the adjective "experimental", its style being so radical no marketing campaign in the world would be able to endorse it outside a film festival like Venice (which is where I saw the film).

Kiarostami, always a festival favorite, has truly gone where no man's ever been before with his adaptation of a classic Persian story from the twelfth century. The predictably sad tale revolves around a woman, Shirin, and her being coveted by two different men. A yarn as old as humanity, most will say. What can the director do to make it fresh and original?

The answer is of the most audacious kind: instead of doing a straightforward movie, Kiarostami chose to film a stage version of the story, with a twist - we never actually see what happens on the stage. The whole 90-minute bulk of the film consists of a series of close-ups of over a hundred Iranian women (plus Juliette Binoche in a three-shot cameo) who are watching the play. All the action takes place off-camera, with voices and sounds allowing us to imagine what we should be looking at.

With such an unconventional approach, Shirin is very simple and at the same time quite difficult. Few, if any, average moviegoers will choose it over something more traditional, and those who do will almost certainly find it boring. That's a pity, because the extreme style does serve a point, although it isn't entirely clear at first. The key to understanding the picture lies in focusing only on the actresses' faces: the minute one stops paying attention to the soundtrack (I was helped in that by the fact that the subtitles were faulty and didn't show up until 40 seconds after the lines had been spoken), it becomes easier to appreciate the simple beauty of Kiarostami's choice and feel a kind of empathy with those women, as if they were the real protagonists (and in a way, they are).

So yes, Shirin is perhaps the most uncommercial film that will ever have been made, but since when does that translate as "unwatchable"? It's an acquired taste, for sure, but after the initial wave of frustration it might be possible to feel a more positive emotion kick in.

Shirin is not your typical movie and you are most likely going to be quite surprised by it.

[theordinaryreview · 6/10 · 14 July 2013]

The background story is an ancient Persian tragic romance that involves the Queen to be of Armenia, Shirin and the King of (neo)-Persia Khosrow. However, this is not the story we see. The movie is filmed in a theater and we see the faces of women watching the romance unfold on screen.

A very interesting outlook on cinema, narratives and emotions altogether, if one thing for sure it is that Shirin is not your typical movie and you are most likely going to be quite surprised by it. Although all of the audience are part of the Iranian cinema industry (with the exception of the renowned French actress Juliette Binoche), there is no particular focus on anyone and the film seems to jump from face to face in accordance to the emotions depicted.

It is quite interesting to see the differences, for example when someone cries during a scene, others might bite their finger or play with their hair. It reflects back at the spectator who might at the time do the exact same and a certain bond can or can not be formed. There are all sorts of reactions, the shock, the fear are both displayed and experienced differently. Some will, for example in a scene which most likely involves a battle, close their eyes, put their hand on their forehead or become very still. In addition to the biting fingers, some women also readjust their hijab and leaving us wondering if and why watching those scenes disturbs them so.

There were men in the audience and one could wonder why no shots focused on them. I wondered about this myself and it puzzled me, though perhaps it may be that the story being told is a warning to women about love. Also, the title is Shirin, not Shirin and Khosrow, which I guess would imply that the focus is on the part of the woman in the tragedy.

I have to admit that I would probably have enjoyed seeing the film that was being shown more than the expressions of the audience. Of course, it was quite an experience and an exposure to a vast palette of emotions, but I feel emotions are such a personal thing that they might be better enjoyed at the first degree, when they are still raw. I can easily assume that this would be very different from a viewer to another and one can relate more to faces describing an emotion than a situation.

I liked: A different outlook on movies. Womanly, in a way, as I wouldn't quite call it a feminist film. Background historical tale.

I disliked : Feels a little like watching a recycled movie at times, digested by others. Really puzzling at times it is quite impossible to understand what goes on on the screen, maybe it is intended that way, but it did bother me.

64/100 A very particular film, it felt like going to a theatrical performance of an old Greek tragedy and standing on the scene watching others watch it unfold. It feels really artsy.

An art film unlike any other

[I_Ailurophile · 8/10 · 21 August 2021]

'Shirin' is nothing if not a curiosity. Unless one deconstructs the picture to its fundamental elements of light and sound, there is nothing conventional about this movie, neither in production nor in realization. This is not a feature that will be accepted by any viewer who isn't receptive to the most purely artistic of films.

This is, to my amazement, the second movie I've watched in which the camera is focused on all times on the face of someone in front of it. Yet while Andrew Bowser's 'Worm,' made in 2013, is a dynamic crime thriller, Abbas Kiarostami's 'Shirin' dispenses almost entirely with a sense of narrative. The individuals in the camera's eye are themselves simply seated, and ostensibly watching a film. The sound, music, and dialogue of the feature in our vision is only that of the "film within a film" we don't see. The only story in the 90 minutes before us is the one playing out on the unseen screen.

It's worth mentioning that story, for it's the tale of Shirin and Khosrow, a classic romance of Persian literature many centuries past. This isn't a work that is at all familiar to audiences outside historical Persia, yet to explore it as one can is a worthy endeavor. It's a rich saga with timeless themes, and complex characters and drama. The rendition presented in 'Shirin' is a decisively truncated adaptation that focuses largely (though not exclusively) on the titular figure; the thrust of the story would be lost on anyone who doesn't already have at least passing knowledge.

With our movie built as it is, we are left to gauge the reactions of the audience to the spectacle playing out on their screen. It's a wondrously intriguing concept, one that could just as well be woven into a silent picture and be just as bizarrely captivating. The exploration of wide-ranging emotion, as tied to spectatorship and engagement, is a beautiful notion. To be sure, there is a well-spring held within the gaze of every individual assembled to participate in this project; as the faces before us are collected from among many Iranian actresses (and special guest Juliette Binoche), the sight is fetching. In the alignment of audience reaction with unseen adaptation, there is a message about the universality of the tale of Shirin, an experience shared by all women living in explicitly or tacitly patriarchal societies.

There's just one problem: It's not quite real.

To read of the production history, or watch a widely-available making-of featurette, 'Shirin' was filmed by presenting actresses with a nondescript image to which they were instructed to impart varied natural reactions. The rendition of the ancient epic to greet our ears is merely a narration, enhanced by sound, and shots of the audience's responses are edited together to match the post-production insertion of the audio. To that end - by all means, hats off to Kiarostami and Arash Sadeghi for their tight editing prowess.

For the skills of all involved, the emotional responses we see play out feel nearly, mostly genuine - 'Shirin' feels nearly, mostly genuine. But they're not, and it's not, and one can somewhat tell. There's a notable lack of absolute comportment of reaction to supposed scenes, and for that matter, the direct and abbreviated course of events in the "adaptation" limit what a truly natural emotional response may otherwise be. Hand in hand with this, the random dance of light across audience members' heads is too dynamic to accurately reflect scenes which, judging by the audio, would be less so in actuality. Think of any other film you watch: If a shot is unchanging as two characters share dialogue, then the glare cast by your screen across objects before it will be at least more static than the rustling of leaves in wind. But not so in 'Shirin.' The end result, for the fact of our knowledge, is an artistic endeavor that doesn't wholly achieve what it intends.

That process of filming is fascinating in and of itself, and worth consideration. Yet overall, I can't immediately think of another production that so handily embodies the conventional wisdom against "seeing how the meat gets made."

With all this having been said, I am somewhat divided. The skills of all involved are undeniable. There is worth in the very craft behind 'Shirin.' The artistry of the undertaking is admirable, and rewarding. But it's not as fulfilling as it could be, because for however authentic the experience seems broadly, to know that it isn't casts an inhibitive pall over the full potential.

Yet perhaps I'm nitpicking. After all, it's no one's fault but my own that I peeked behind the curtain. And whatever its idiosyncratic deficiencies as a feature film, the fact remains that assessed on its own, 'Shirin' is unexpectedly entrancing. On the balance I like it more than I don't, with full recognition that it's a title only the most patient and open-minded viewers will appreciate. But if all I've written hasn't dissuaded you, or has in fact appealed to you, then 'Shirin' is quite worth seeking out.

A conceptual poem

[colin-657 · 9/10 · 23 January 2013]

This is only my second Kiarotami film, the first was Certified Copy, 20 minutes into that I was going to give up, mainly because HE the character infuriated me beyond belief. I stayed with it and was soon after totally immersed. Approaching this film, I now was forewarned that I would be asked to think and reflect, to that end I had not read any prior comments. The set up is easy to understand; a room full of actresses watching a well known play, but that is the premise only, at least I could be aware that it could not possibly be happening in real time and this was a performance of a performance, the reactions are staged as much as the play we do not see. Where does its meaning reside I do not really know nor want to know, you can give it a feminist meaning, a political meaning and aesthetic meaning and surely it is all of these and perhaps more or perhaps less, Asking for meaning almost always diminishes true art

Annoying and Pretentious Recitation of a Persian Poem

[claudio_carvalho · 1/10 · 3 March 2011]

"Shirin" has not been released on DVD in Brazil and I was lured by the IMDb User Rating (7.0/10 with 464 votes) and three favorable reviews (one guy with 4 reviews, another with 6 reviews and one with 952 reviews) published by IMDb. Conclusion: I bought the imported DVD released by Cinema Gould distributor, with subtitles in English.

Unfortunately I was not able to see more than fifteen minutes of this annoying and pretentious recitation of a Persian poem showing the faces of Iranian women in the audience of a movie theater while they watch on the screen. Then I took a nap and I was not brave enough to rewind the film.

"Shirin" might be an interesting short, but NEVER a feature. Fans of Abbas Kiarostami may like "Shirin", but that is not my case; actually I hated it, since it gave me the sensation of being backwards to the screen snooping the audience. Probably Godard might be jealous for not thinking of such boring experimental cinema before. My vote is one (awful).

Title (Brazil): Not Available

Reading the faces ...

[baydere · 9/10 · 4 December 2023]

It's like reading the book of this mythological tale of Khosrow and Shirin's love from the expressions on the faces of the women watching the movie instead of plainly watching the movie itself.

So creative, so extraordinary, so poetic, so emotional, so fantastic...

Just as a note, there is a different but partly similar version of this old tale told in Turkey for ages known as "Ferhat and Sirin" in that Ferhat is stipulated to dig long channels and tunnels on the rocky mountains to bring water to the palace of the sultan as a precondition to marry with his doughter Sirin. Remains of some channels and tunnels in the city of Amasya is shown as a proof of this mythological love.

Unique movie--I've never seen another movie like it.

[Red-125 · 8/10 · 25 August 2020]

Shirin (2008) is an Iranian film directed by Abbas Kiarostami. It's truly unique.

We watch an audience of women who are watching a movie about Khosrow and Shirin. That's the title of a famous tragic romance by the Persian poet Nizami Ganjavi (1141-1209). It's a famous poem in Iran. (There's a whole world out there of things that I don't know.)

In any case, the women are watching a movie. We can hear the music, the sound effects, and the dialog. But we never see the movie!

What we see are women's reactions to what they are seeing on the screen. When I looked into it, it turns out that Kiarostami filmed over 100 women. All of them were famous Iranian actors or other cinema professionals.

For example, one of the women was Leila Hatami, who later starred in the film A Separation (2011). I believe all of the women were Iranian except for one. She's a famous French actor who had worked with Kiarostami in 2010. If you watch carefully, you'll recognize her.

This movie has an anemic IMDb rating of 6.7. (I guess that you either buy into the concept, or you don't.) I thought it was much better than that, and rated it 8.

P.S. We viewed this film on a Cinema Guild DVD. It came with several extras, one of which is worth seeing--Taste of Shirin (2008).