The most disturbing interview is saved for the film’s closing moments. This child has an identifiable name - Madjid - and he is surely meant to encompass all the rest. Confronted by the director, the camera and the authority they jointly represent, the boy cowers like a trapped animal. Palms sweating, body quaking, voice reduced to a dismal croak, he finally seeks solace in tears. Alarmed at the evil he has wrought, Kiarostami permits Madjid’s best friend to stand behind him for security. “Why is he so scared?” Kiarostami asks the friend, somewhat rhetorically. For by now, he knows the answer no less than we do. As an unforgettable icon of shattered childhood, Madjid rates comparison with Edmund in Rossellini’s Germany, Year Zero or Paulette in Clément’s Jeux interdits. There’s a crucial difference, of course. Madjid isn’t just an image, but also a real person, and it’s impossible not to wonder how he has turned out or whether he’s even still alive. Kiarostami freezes him for all time in the attitude of a frightened child reciting a prayer to assuage his pain. “O Lord, fill our hearts with happiness and joy,” he intones, and the plea reaches out to embrace the whole suffering world.
BFI | Sight & Sound | Abbas Kiarostami’s Homework - A Little Learning
Posted 1 year ago
