Five (Dedicated to Ozu)

Insanely beautiful, meditative, thoughtful, calming, art. These five shots, made in memory of Yasujiro Ozu, are from Abbas Kiarostami, and are proper filmaking.
The obvious thing people will say is that this exercise is boring, and nothing happens. This is complete rubbish. The action takes place in the static (often) beauty of the scene, in the meditating mind of the viewer, in the interactions and interplays of what makes up the seas shot.
The first 15 minute take, of the driftwood, is stunning. It could of course only be spontaneous that the wood would play the part it does, its beautiful delicate rolls, its break ups, its returns. The waves lapping is mesmeric, the sound that will come to characterise this whole piece introduced.
The we have the next 15 minutes, of the seafront. We have the great beauty of the sea-line and the people walking past. The bars that form a geometric elegance, and the group of old men, who perform almost a dance. What are they talking about? We will never hear, but we feel we know them so well. This is what humanist cinema is.
Then we have the dogs by the seafront. The increasingly blinding light, the curios, the lack of answers. The wonderful arpeggios of the seas unfolding. And as the light bursts it becomes harder to watch. Very powerful.
We then have the ducks back and forth. The most active (!), the strangest. Of course we don't know why they cross, but this isn't a piece about questions. It is about the beauty of the Turner-esque sky, the darkening sea.
The final 15-20 minutes are the strangest. The moon on the water, often not visible at all, dances and turns. The fact that often the screen is just black enters the viewer into a half world, they drift, they float, they dissappear into themselves. Also the most obtrusive and powerful use of sound here; the monotomy of the noise and its harsh strangeness.
This film is dedicated to Ozu, whose films we are growing to love. It shares its use of long long takes, static, showing 'nothing' with, as an artwork, Herzog's 'Fata Morgana'. Two fils which employ similar techniques, and actually have narratives, are the (not coincidentally) excellent 'In The City Of Sylvia' and 'Lourdes'.
Yes, the mind can't help but wander occasionally, but that is all part of these impossibly slow meditations. Real works of art, of beauty, Kiarostami has created a wordless, actionless, non-artificial master work. To be seen again, in wonder.