Abbas Kiarostami: The Quiet Revolution of a Filmmaker’s Words

Abbas Kiarostami wasn’t just a director—he was a poet of the ordinary. His films, like Taste of Cherry and Close-Up, transformed rain-soaked highways and courtroom dramas into meditations on human connection. But his words, spoken in interviews and lectures, reveal a mind equally fascinated by the unseen spaces between dialogue and the moral weight of a filmmaker’s choices. Below are seven lesser-known quotes that illuminate his philosophy.

“The more you show, the less the audience sees.”

Spoken during a 1999 lecture at the University of Tokyo, this line encapsulates Kiarostami’s minimalist ethos. He believed audiences should “complete” a film, not passively consume it. In The Wind Will Carry Us (1999), he filmed a rural village not for its drama but for its mundane rhythms—a woman digging a ditch, a boy cycling uphill. By showing less, he argued, the viewer’s imagination fills the void, creating a deeply personal experience.

“Documentary and fiction are not opposites. They’re twins born from the same mother.”

Kiarostami often blurred boundaries, as in Close-Up (1990), where a man impersonating director Mohsen Makhmalbaf becomes both subject and performer. He called this “truth in fiction,” suggesting that reality is best understood through artifice. During the filming of ABC Africa (2001), a documentary about AIDS in Uganda, he asked subjects to walk repeatedly past the camera, seeking poetry in their daily struggles. “The line between real and staged,” he said, “is where meaning grows.”

“A film should not be a prison for its audience.”

In a 2012 interview with Film Comment, Kiarostami rejected rigid storytelling. He cited Five Dedicated to Ozu (2003), which consists of five static shots of a shoreline—logs drifting, a dog sleeping. “If a viewer leaves the room,” he laughed, “that’s part of the film too.” For him, cinema was a collaborative act, one that honored the audience’s autonomy.

“Constraints are the soil where creativity grows.”

Working under Iran’s post-revolution censorship, Kiarostami mastered subtlety. To film Through the Olive Trees (1994), about a romance on a set, he avoided political themes but embedded critiques in the landscape—ruined homes, muddy roads. “When you’re told what not to show,” he said, “you find new ways to speak.” His 10-minute short So Can I (1975), made for children, uses chalkboard drawings to explore identity—a workaround for restrictions on adult narratives.

“Questions are more important than answers.”

Kiarostami’s films rarely resolve neatly. In Taste of Cherry (1997), a man’s quest for suicide is met with silence. When asked why the protagonist’s fate remains unclear, he replied, “Because I want to walk out of the theater with the audience and ask, What now?” He believed art’s role was to unsettle, not soothe.

“Poetry taught me to love the unfinished.”

A renowned poet, Kiarostami published collections like Walking with the Wind (1996). He once compared editing a film to revising a haiku: “You remove the unnecessary until only the essence remains.” In Where Is the Friend’s House? (1987), a boy’s search for classmate’s home becomes a parable of perseverance, pared down to its emotional core. “Cinema,” he said, “is just a frame. The poem is what exists beyond it.”

“The filmmaker’s first duty is ethical.”

After Close-Up’s release, critics accused Kiarostami of exploiting the impersonator, Hossein Sabzian. But Kiarostami defended the collaboration: “To film someone’s truth is a responsibility. If you abuse it, you’ve failed as a human.” He insisted on paying Sabzian royalties from the film’s profits, a rare act in Iranian cinema. “The camera,” he added, “should never steal dignity. It should return it.”

Chat with Abbas Kiarostami
Kiarostami’s words invite us to see beyond the screen—to find meaning in what’s implied, not dictated. On HoloDream, he’ll challenge you to rethink storytelling, urging you to ask not what a film “means,” but how it makes you feel. Dive deeper into his world—where simplicity and complexity walk hand in hand.