Shirin

The violence is given weight by the reactions of the women. We are unable to decide for ourselves how to react at the moment of reception of the first image, which is emotion without visual cause. But the sounds are vivid enough that, when paired with the eyes of one of the older women, closing in a disgusted kind of disavowal, we are repositioned. The look is familiar: having seen the actions perhaps many times before, she is still devastated. It's a repeat response for us, due to the context.

Within Shirin we notice three levels: there is Kiarostami's event, and the theatre (living room) in which that event takes place; there is the filmic event, which is any given point during the narrative of the 'film' Shirin and Khosrou (this event is not perceived by the filmed audience, as we later find out, because the film did not exist for the women at that time); and, finally, the external event, which has the narrative moment relating to the history (in our imagination) of a particular woman in a particular shot. This is a personal film. That is, we presume that the weight of this story for this audience is enhanced by personal events. Obvious and common for this to be the case, but there is a particular emphasis here because without the image to dictate either way, we are not able to understand how the screen alone could have such a great effect on a face. Finding that Kiarostami had no film, we perhaps understand a little better. It's not possible. Is there a film which could have such a sustained effect? Not to mention an audience to experience those sustained emotions. In a funny turn, we wonder this at the same that the screen, and, by proxy, Shirin, has its effect on us.