The Wind Will Carry Us

After almost two hours, you still don't know what the man from Tehran is doing in a village 450 miles away. He has what he calls "colleagues" with him, but you don't see them, and occasionally he is spoken of as "the engineer", although he doesn't do any engineering.

There is an old woman in the village, who is dying. You don't see her, either. But the engineer appears to be interested in the state of her health and keeps asking people about it.

The only action occurs when his mobile phone rings. He rushes to his car, drives out of the village, up a dusty red road to a cemetry at the top where the signal is strong enough to take the call. He talks to Mrs Godarzi. You don't know anything about her, or why she's ringing. This journey to the top of the hill is repeated again and again.

The other thing that bothers him is milk. He can't find any. Eventually, a girl in a pitch dark basement milks a cow by the light of a lamp. He makes a feeble pass at her, which is rejected.

The village is beautiful. The country is even more beautiful. The people of the village are kind and hard working. Goats, cattle and chickens act as extras. The weather is good.

Eventually the old woman gets better and the man from Tehran leaves. If nothing else, he has learnt that there is more to life than talking on the phone.