24 FRAMES

Before passing without end in 2016 at 76 years old, Iranian ace Abbas Kiarostami finished work on this, his last film: a trial narrative that fills in as a despairing reflection on mortality and the moving picture.

As unique as it is striking, 24 Frames highlights twenty-four scenes, each containing a still photo taken by Kiarostami (put something aside for the opening shot of Pieter Bruegel's 1565 painting, The Hunters in the Snow) that at that point gradually comes to vivified life kindness of shrewd advanced impacts that reason creatures to run, mists to move by, and smoke to surge from stacks. By waiting on every one of these sights as they spring vigorously, the chief arranges watchers in a trancelike domain.

While no plain critique is given, the reiteration of articles, figures, and rhythms soon bestow the venture's basic interest with issues of depression, sympathy, sentiment and the relentless forward walk of time—a subject that, at last, uncovers Kiarostami's swan melody as a moving treatise on his, and mankind's, central fleetingness.