Digital Kiarostami & The Open Screenplay

Alex Munt
You can make a good film which is just that, a good film. But sometimes there are films which
are not so good, but they are still worthwhile because they suggest new directions. Abbas
Kiarostami (Levieux 2002 quoted in Elena 2005: 175)
Ten (2002) by Abbas Kiarostami is a challenging film, in the best sense of the word. It is a
claustrophobic, tense, and at times, frustrating experience. Yet it is also an entirely cinematic
film. Ten is Kiarostamis twelfth feature, and of particular interest here, his first digital fiction
feature. The film represents a radical departure from his preceding films which have been
reserved as full fledged masterpieces (Sterritt, 2000). This is difficult to claim of Ten. Rather,
as Kiarostami attests, the value of this film lies elsewhere: as a new direction for cinema.
This article posits that this new direction is towards a Digital-Micro-Cinema defined here as
micro-budget filmmaking practice allied with a digital production basis. The fact that
Kiarostami opted to shoot a feature digitally and on a micro-budget, suggests that this new, or
modified, brand of cinema has afforded the opportunity (for an established world cinema
director) to explore new ways in which to narrate stories (Ganz and Khatib 2006: 28). This
article looks at new ways of (cinematic) scriptwriting, in a digital context, and the
transformation of narrative in this arena. The focus of the article is on Kiarostamis notion of
the Open Screenplay with emphasis on its digital re-embodiment in Ten.
Digital-Micro-Cinema
But what in fact is Ten? Structurally speaking, Ten is no more than a collection of ten
sequences hence the title, obviously in which a woman has different conversations with
her various passengers as she drives through the streets of Tehran (Elena 2005: 175).
Kiarostami has long practised a micro (or minimal) mode of cinema, in resistance to the
Hollywood model and its imitators. A series of trademarks are evident from his films and are
reflective of a small-scale approach to feature filmmaking. These include: use of nonprofessional actors, experiments with fiction/documentary hybrids, a favour for the sequence
shot and play with temps-mort (dead time). Kiarostamis cinema is generated from an
idiosyncratic approach to scriptwriting; in a form he refers to as the Open Screenplay
(Kiarostami 2004).
This discussion actually revolves around two Kiarostami films. The first being Ten, the
other 10 on Ten (Kiarostami 2004), which screened in Un certain regard at Cannes Festival
(2004) and now accompanies Ten as a DVD extra (Madman Directors Suite). 10 on
Ten inverts the structure of Ten and unfolds as a series of lessons (a Kiarostami master class
of sorts) which count from [#1] to [#10]. Although 10 on Ten represents, to a degree, a
reformulation of ideas enunciated in previous interviews, it affords intimate access to
Kiarostamis reflections on his recent transition to digital cinema (Elena 2005: 180). The film
functions as a (loosely structured) manifesto for the digital debate. In 10 on Ten, Kiarostami

speaks from behind the wheel of his Range Rover as it winds around roads adjacent to the
principle shooting locations from Taste of Cherry (Kiarostami 1997). The location here is
significant, in thatTaste of Cherry represents Kiarostamis first incursion into digital cinema.
Kiarostami frames this trajectory as an accident. After a film lab error destroyed the celluloid
for the final chapter of Taste of Cherry, Kiarostami opted (in place of a re-shoot) to create a
digital epilogue from a series of behind-the-scenes digital video rushes (Kiarostami 2004).
This digital-ending proved controversial for both critics and audiences. Its impact was not due
to (digital) aesthetics but in relation to its content as a documentary appendage fused to a
fiction film. In the epilogue Kiarostami and his small crew are captured, on digital video, on
location of Taste of Cherry during and in-between takes, establishing camera positions and
interacting with the actors.
Micro-Narratives
Ten is a film which resists simple definition. In Kiarostamis more conventional films, a micronarrative structure is revealed where [he] is not afraid to let a scene wander off in an
unexpected, seemingly random direction, to let each scene become a self-enclosed mini-story
of its own (Rapfogel 2001). However, Ten is not merely an evolution of this (episodic)
tendency, but in fact, exhibits a far more radical and self-conscious narrative structure.
In Ten,Kiarostami adopts a serial narrative structure, one composed of ten discrete modules
which count backwards in intertitles rendered as (digital) film-leader graphics. The insertion of
the film-leader within the body of the film itself, initially, recalls the structuralist-materialist
tradition of avant-garde and experimental cinema (Caputo 2003). However, on closer
analysis, Ten can be more precisely situated in relation to narrative cinema, via Peter Wollens
notion of Counter-Cinema: Its function is to struggle against the fantasies, ideologies and
aesthetic devices of one cinema with its own antagonistic fantasies, ideologies and aesthetic
devices (Wollen 1982a: 91).
In his theory of the Two Avant-Gardes, Wollen divides avant-garde filmmakers into two
distinct groups. Both groups function as an ideological and/or aesthetic critique of mainstream
cinema. However, where one group participate in a Counter-Cinema within the framework of a
film culture, the other look toward a visual arts culture, particularly that of painting. The key
difference is that while Counter-Cinema maintains the signifieds of narrative cinema, being
words and stories, the other avant-garde cinema is marked by an exclusion of verbal
language and narrative (1982b: 96).
Ten, as a collection of ten conversations (clearly words and stories) can be confidently
situated within the first group, as Counter-Cinema. In this context, Ten gains an avant-garde
status, principally due to its narrative intransivity where story proceeds via gaps and
interruptions, episodic construction, [and] undigested digression (1982b: 80). So, Ten is a
film counter to the narrative transivity of Classical Hollywood defined as linear narrative
causality (1982b: 80). This retroactive framing of Ten (via Wollen) is reinforced by
Kiarostamis conclusion to 10 on Ten, when he satirically advises his students of the cinema:
If you want to be successful filmmakersI suggest, as another filmmaker, that you never
forget the formula of the American cinema (Kiarostami 2004).

Ten might also be framed as counter to the ubiquitous Multi-Strand mode of narration where
interwoven multi-strand narratives exist as a tangled web of stories to be deferred, crossed
or tied together (King 2005: 86). The Multi-Strand narrative mode has become a staple
scriptwriting model for Indie, Indiewood, Hollywood and network television drama. In its most
commercial guise, the Multi-Strand narrative functions a mere multiplication of (Classical)
conflict driven causality. In contrast, Ten is an exercise in serial narration where the feature
film represents an accumulation of micro-narratives ten car trips. This narrative organisation
has precedence in American Independent cinema. Geoff King identifies Indie films by Jim
Jarmusch Night
on
Earth (1991)
and
Hal
Hartley Flirt (1995)
as
exercises
in
narrative repetition. For King, this mode of narration demands an audience to assume a more
interactive role (than that required for the slicker Multi-Strand mode):
[the audience need to] backtrack, to revisit material, to identify repetitions and points of
difference, establishes a very different dynamic, a structure akin to a spiral in which the
ramifications of nuances are explored rather than a linear narrative that offers a single
movement towards resolution (2005: 97).
Ten can also be read as an exercise in the aesthetic principle of banality which can be traced
from the films of the Italian Neorealists, via international Art Cinema, to the American
Underground (2005: 70). This trajectory represents a diverse group of filmmakers who seek to
engage with ordinary, everyday occurrencestoo small for Hollywood pictures (Surez 1996:
223 quoted in King 2005: 69). This mode of storytelling is one designed to extract the smaller
details of the lives of characters or the milieux in which they are found (2005: 70). Edmund
Hayes offers a productive working of the banality aesthetic in relation to Ten. He describes the
film as one engaged with the smallness of contemporary tragedy and drama of the deferred
nature of human fulfilment (Hayes 2002:1).
To describe Ten as a little tragedy is not to belittle the film, but to describe a quality which
makes it particularly fitting to a modern understanding of the tragic. Perhaps great tragedy
need not be epic or all-encompassing right now (2002: 2).
In consideration of the relationship between Kiarostami and the American Underground
cinema, Alberto Elena has situated Fellow Citizen (Kiarostami 1983) as a Warholian exercise in
repetition and restraint (Elena 2005: 57). In this film (Kiarostamis first medium length
feature) the narrative (like Ten) unfolds in a serial fashion, as a series of consecutive
arguments between drivers and a traffic policeman, in their various attempts to pass a traffic
barrier. Fellow Citizen has been described as a monotony [which] borders on the limits of the
experimental genre, forcing the attention capacity of the audience to the limit (Roth 1995:
120 quoted in Elena 2005: 57). So, if Ten, suggests a new (forward) direction for Kiarostami,
then it also reflects a revival of earlier preoccupations with narrative seriality and repetition.
If the conversations of Ten form mediations on some rather big subjects for contemporary
Iranian women (of love, divorce, religion, motherhood, prostitution and abortion) then they
are firmly grounded within the milieu of everyday life. Kiarostamis (micro) cinema, is one
where little tragedies unfold within the microcosm of the family car, constructed by
Kiarostami as a veritable cinematic apparatus (Martin 2004). The tightly integrated structure
of Ten: as ten micro-narratives inserted into a singular (micro) space suggests a rigour of

scriptwriting that recalls Adrian Martins notion that the cinematic is not something thats
going to be added by the director, but something already inherently there in the proposal, or
the plan, or the proposition which the script is (2006). In this light, Ten is a film firmly
counter to the commonly held assumption that content (plot plus characters) is readily
separable from form (the cinematic elements) (Martin 2003).
The Open Screenplay

10 on Ten (2004) Abbas Kiarostami, Iran/France

Clip 1: The Open Screenplay - click the image to open clip in pop-up window
Clip 2: On dialogue - click the image to open clip in pop-up window

In 10 on Ten during #04 The Script: Kiarostami introduces the Open Screenplay(Kiarostami
2004). Whilst a concise, formal definition is withheld, the key features of Kiarostamis
alternative screenplay structure can be gauged from his series of lessons, particularly when
read in conjunction with existing literature on his filmmaking methods. The Open Screenplay,
as the name implies, is an open-ended and porous scriptwriting form. Two of its salient
features are: an absence of written dialogue (making it more akin to a traditional Story
Outline) and the fact that is not distributed but remains for Kiarostamis eyes only (Hayes
2002).
Ten is a film which accumulates narrative from a range of characters that span the gender, age
and socio-demographic spectrum. Kiarostamis respect for this diversity is evident from his use
of term culture as a character-specific notion over and above any broad determination of
religion, race or nationality (Kiarostami 2004). In this context, the Open Screenplay provides a
space for an authentic language of the characters to emerge. In relation to Taste of
Cherry Kiarostami says: Nothing was written, it was all spontaneous. I would control certain
parts and get them to say certain lines, but it was basically improvisation (Rosenbaum 1998:
41). In another interview he reveals the Open Screenplay to be a mode of scriptwriting open
to those (cinematic) elements of chance and surprise.
On-the-spot creation of dialogue has been necessary because it's the only way I could work
with people who are not professional actors, and some of the moments you see in my movies
have surprised me as well as others. I don't give dialogue to the actors, but once you explain
the scene to them, they just start talking, beyond what I would have imagined (Kiarostami
quoted in Sterritt 2000).
Kiarostami also departs from conventional notions of scriptwriting, in his experimentation with
the documentary/fiction hybrid. Here, non-professional actors essentially play themselves
within an imposed fictional framework. For example, in Ten, the principle actor Mania Akbari
(Mania) is a painter with no prior acting experience, yet is also the divorced mother of one
son whom we see on the screen (Elena 2005: 176). A similar hybrid mode of scriptwriting
was adopted by Michael Winterbottom and screenwriter Tony Grisoni, for In This World (2002).
Also a digital feature, the story centres on the plight of two Afghan refugees in their harrowing
journey to across Europe to London. The two characters of In This World (who also go by
their own names in the film) were previously living as refugees in Pakistan. The hybrid status
of the film is heightened by the fact that (post filming) one of the young men, Jamal Udin
Torabi (Jamal) managed to cross the border into the United Kingdom (Feinstein).
If the simplicity of Kiarostamis Open Screenplay evokes an idea of minimal preparation, then
this is deceptive. The dynamic opening sequence of Ten, which establishes the fractious
relationship between mother and son, was painstakingly rehearsed for four months (Elena
2005). Indeed, Kiarostamis claim that the screenplay finds its final form as the film is being
made suggests an intensive production phase (Kiarostami 2004). In this instance the Open
Screenplay exists in a somewhat precarious state, between order and spontaneity, an idea
reinforced by Kiarostamis remark that [a film like Ten] must occur of its own accord, like an
incident or happening.At the same time, it requires a great deal of preparation (Kiarostami
2002).

Kiarostami has indicated a preference for the term guidance (hedayat) over control in
relation to his filmmaking practice (Hayes 2002: 4). The fact that the Open Screenplay is not
handed over to either crew or actors suggests that (for Kiarostami) distribution of the script
represents the threat of closure and a waning of creative engagement with the filmmaking
process. Moreover, the hidden nature of Kiarostamis Open Screenplay is perhaps crucial for
the extraction of cinematic performances. The cinematic, here, exists on a micro scale, in the
capture of the momentary gesture, frown or falsehood gestures that express the difficulty
of living amongst humanity, gestures that perpetuate this difficulty (2002: 2). So, for
Kiarostami, the cinematic is wrought from a synchronicity between an actors own dialogue
(their language and culture) and his ability to capture their intrinsic gestures. In the
following clip from Ten, Amins defiant hand gestures of argumentation comprise a
significant part of his performance, working in conjunction with his dialogue (2002: 6).

Ten (2002)
Abbas
Clip 3: Mania & Amin: Module 1

Kiarostami,

France/Iran/USA

The New Wave Open Screenplay

Although Kiarostami claims minimal awareness of the cinema of la Nouvelle Vague, his
articulation of the Open Screenplay, nevertheless, represents a legacy of overlapping concerns
(Douchet 1999: 315). New Wave scriptwriting, via the Italian Neo-Realists, refocused cinema
towards an engagement with the present. In particular, the screenplays of Jean-Luc Godard
are inhabited by characters without pasts, or futures, as characters who possess nothing but
the uncertainty, intoxication, and tragedy of the moment (1999: 187). Godard, like
Kiarostami, also conducted an on-the-spot mode of scriptwriting. At times Godard delivered
dialogue to his actors (whilst camera rolling) via a microphone to earpiece arrangement. This
enabled an extraction of (surprise) gestures to be rendered as cinematic moments. Chantal
Goya, who played Madeline in Godards Masculin Fminin (1966), reflects on her experience

with this scriptwriting method, in a recent interview included as an extra to the DVD release
(Criterion):
At the end I didnt realise how strong my performance was. At the police station when they
asked me after I find out Paul has committed suicide, and Im pregnant by him, when the
policeman asked What will you do now? I didnt answer. After a pause, Jean-Luc whispered
through the earphone. I heard him say Ill use a curtain rod. I said Ill use a curtain rod but
in such a way that the audience was staggered. It came as a real blow. But thats what he
wanted. (Goya 2005)
In relation to the cinema of the French New Wave, Ten might also be considered a (digital)
revival of a tableaux based cinema, where narrative is assembled in distinct blocks. Godards
films, from the mid to late 1960s, represent an increasingly fragmentation of narrative in the
fiction feature film. This trend begins with Vivra sa Vie (1962) the story of Nanas (Anna
Karina) descent from aspiring actress to (dead) prostitute narrated in twelve Brechtian
styled tableaux (or chapters). A similar narrative structure resurfaces in Une Femme
Maree (1964); Masculin-Feminin(Godard
1966)
and Weekend (1967).
In
particular,
Kiarostamis intertitles (of Ten) recall those of Masculin-Feminine. Where Godard marked each
narrative block with an abrasive gun-shot audio sample, Kiarostami opts for a boxing match
bell (Martin 2004: 3) to signify his cinematic challenge, which unfolds in ten rounds.
The Digital Open Screenplay

10
on
Ten (2004)
Abbas
Kiarostami,
Clip 4: The digital camera - click the image to open clip in
Clip 5: City of stories - click the image to open clip in pop-up window

Iran/France
pop-up window

This discussion so far has situated the Open Screenplay in relation to Kiarostamis previous
films and to the historical precedent of the French New Wave. Thus, given that this
scriptwriting model is not entirely new, the task here is to analyse its transition in digital
cinema (via Ten) and to look for a reconfiguration of the cinematic in this (new) context. The
themes of access and intimacy provide a way forward.
1. Access

In 10 on Ten, Kiarostami describes the digital (dv) camera as a cinematic pen, which offers a
very firm and valid invitation to return the auteur to the scene (Kiarostami 2004). Although
not explicitly stated, this metaphor denotes a (digital) revival of Alexander Astrucs camrastylo (or camera pen) which consolidated auteur theory and fuelled the productivity of the
French New Wave. In the above clip, Kiarostami stands atop the hilly outskirts of Tehran,
looking down over its bustling streets, and reconfirms his preference for a cinema of recording.
This provokes the idea that if stories surround Kiarostami then his digital cinematic gaze has
increased his access to these.
The potential for a renewed access to stories, in digital cinema, is also highlighted by
Kiarostamis call to expand the dimensions of cinema (2004). The micro-production basis
of Ten (minimal equipment and crew) is materialised in Kiarostamis dashboard-cam: where
two cameras (both fixed angle and lens) construct a two-point mise en scne (Martin 2004).
Holly Willis postulates that advances in digital camera technology can be seen as an evolution
of Godards concept (dating from 1976) for a glove-box camera a device easily accessible
for the spontaneous recording of (high resolution) moving images (Willis 2005:19). That is,
the proliferation of mobile, lightweight and high definition digital cameras affords increased
access to new (and expanded) cinematic spaces. In relation to Ten, Kiarostami has
literally inserted his micro-tragedies into the urban fabric of Tehran into a public space
noted as highly problematic in post-revolutionary Iran (Elena 2005: 179). Furthermore, the
expansion of cinematic space inTen reinforces the capacity for digital cinema to challenge
existing media censorship:
One of the major impacts of digital technology on Iranian cinema is its challenge to
censorship. Irans cinema is a heavily regulated industry where censorship occurs at every
stage
of
the
filmmaking
process:
scriptwriting,
shooting,
postproduction
and
distribution.for Ten and 20 Fingers, Kiarostami and Akbari respectively submitted scripts for
approval that were sanitised versions of the ones they proceeded to make (Ganz and Khatib
2006: 29).
In this context, the Open Screenplay of Ten (a critique of the dominance of patriarchal culture
in Iran) has been designed to shift from a sanitised (official) version to a point where it finds
its final form as the film is being made (Kiarostami 2004). Here, narrative is literally on the
move, remaining a step ahead of the threat of censorship. Also, it is precisely the digital
format of Ten which allows this reduced level of censorship: although both digital and 35mm
features require script approval in Iran, a script minder is only required for the 35mm
productions (Ganz and Khatib 2006: 29).
The notion of a renewed access (for digital cinema) is also relevant to considerations of
audience. In relation to Ten, the audience assume a role of privileged access to the space of
performance and one not so different from Kiarostamis restricted to video monitor, postperformance (2006: 30). Adam Ganz and Lina Khatib suggest that the potential of digital
cinema lies not so much in the narration of new or different stories but in the reconfiguration
of existing relationships between actor, director and spectator.
The audience is given privileged access to the space, and through listening to fragmented
conversations, is allowed to deduce what the story is. In other words, the stories in

themselves are not different, it is the relationship between subject and object that makes
them different. The audience is allowed to make a decision about the material that the director
would make (2006: 30).
2. Intimacy

10
on
Ten (2004)
Abbas
Kiarostami,
Iran/France
Clip 6: Dialogue vs monologue - click the image to open clip in pop-up window
Clip 7: On abstraction - click the image to open clip in pop-up window

The Open Screenplay of Ten originated with a more conventional plot. The central character
(Mania) was initially written as a psychotherapist who, after having her office closed down by
the authorities, was forced to use her car as a mobile therapy unit. The plot of psychotherapist
(driver) and client (passenger) was eventually abandoned by Kiarostami. His reasoning reveals
a subtle approach to scriptwriting, in his preference for dialogue over monologue. For
Kiarostami the cinematic resides in that abstraction fundamental to the cinema the
disassociation of sound and image. In Ten this, seemingly minor, decision (for dialogue over
monologue) has vast ramifications for the film which relies upon a clever manipulation of
sound and image from dashboard-cam.
Talk intensive scriptwriting presents obvious benefits, at the scale of economy required for
micro budget filmmaking. However, dialogue can also present an obstacle to cinematic
scriptwriting. In his Cinematic Scriptwriting Seminar, Adrian Martin stated that talk presents
one of the hardest challenges for any filmmaker (Martin 2006) Martin proposed that location
offers one solution (and one decided in the scriptwriting phase) to the problem of talk. With
reference to Notorious, (Hitchcock 1946) he revealed how the Hitchcock/Hecht decision to set
a scene within the confined space of a plane created a desirable combination of formality and
distance required for the scene where Cary Grant reveals to Ingrid Bergman the bad news
about her father (Martin 2006). Kiarostami has previously acknowledged Hitchcock as a
master and has perhaps, learned from him that location can indeed become a catalyst
for cinematic conversation.
Of course a car is [also] the ideal space for creating arguments, particularly in traffic jams.
Who has never had this experience in a car? Its a space that can create an emotional or
nervous tension because of proximity or because of the discomfort caused by bad traffic.
(Kiarostami 2004)
Kiarostami refers to the location (the car) of Ten as an iron cell, a space of emotional or
nervous tension (Kiarostami 2004). The intimacy of Ten is an extreme (and productive)
application of the Containment principle expounded in low budget scriptwriting discourse
(Knapman 1996). If Kiarostami takes containment to its limit in Tenon the interior, then he
renders an entirely different space on the exterior. Here, the fluid city spaces of Tehran provide
fleeting images of architecture, urban texture and local inhabitants. A raw texture to the
soundtrack (traffic, cars beeping and ambulance sirens) accompanies these images. The
(exterior-public) subsidiary space is also cinematic and one in constant tension with the
(private) claustrophobic space of the family car. In previous films Kiarostami often uses the car
window as a frame within a frame but in Ten, the placement of dashboard-cam the (larger)
story of the city is only revealed partially and fleetingly. In Ten, narrative is
literally driven forward, as a kinetic and unstable force which at times also provides a feedback
effect. In particular, this is evident when local inhabitants stare at the characters of Ten. Their
gestures and curiosity complicate the fictional status of the film. In such moments life (as
described by Jean-Claude Carrire) infiltrates the fictional skeleton of Ten:
Life as we ordinarily perceive it is confused and even incoherent. We walk down a street, we
hear snatches of sentences, we see people of whom we know nothing performing actions
whose significance eludes us.Writing a story or screenplay means injecting order into this
disorder.It means violating reality (or at least what we perceive of reality) to rebuild it in

another way, confining the images within a given frame, selecting the real voices, emotions ,
and sometimes ideas (Carrire 1995: 183).
In Ten, Kiarostami has injected an order (of his stories) within the chaos of the city to fuse
fictional and documentary narrative modes. Narrative feedback also occurs in Ten during
Episode [#03] (with Amin as passenger) when the car escapes the congested city streets for
the open freeway. As the car builds speed, tension in the vehicle is temporarily dissipated. It is
only at this point, that Mania approaches resignation of the ongoing difficulties she faces with
her son, Amin.

Ten (2002)
Abbas
Kiarostami,
France/Iran/USA
Clip 8: Mania & Amin: Module 3 - click the image to open clip in pop-up window
Modularity, Repetition & Variation
One of the key things to realise about cinema is that films are basically a series of patterns
(Martin 2006).
In the hands of Abbas Kiarostami the shape (or patterns) of Ten are open to subtle
manipulation and transformation. Ten is a film assembled from ten discrete modules of
cinematic time. Each module is internally composed by cutting between the two fixed angles
supplied by dashboard-cam. Thus, in Ten, compositional principles of repetition and variation
are evident at both the macro-scale (the order, duration and repetition of story modules) and
micro-scale (variation of film language within a single module). The shape of Ten is a
deceptively complex one, beyond a simple linearity, implied by its serial structure. A cinematic
diagram of the film is a productive way to represent how Ten works in relation to
compositional principles of repetition and variation. The diagram is a tool which has a
genealogy in design practice, often used to visualise (and therefore understand) complex
phenomena.

Figure

1:

Cinematic

Diagram

of Ten (Munt

2006)

The opening module [#10] establishes the central relationship between Mania (mother) and
Amin (son); it is the longest at around seventeen minutes. Amin appears in a total of four of
the ten modules: [#10], [#5], [#3] and [#1]. Rolando Caputo describes the Amin sequences
as the spine of the film around which the others slot in and notes that these are indeed the
richest in terms of story information (Caputo 2003). He also points out that the conjoining of
module [#10] with module [#1] provides symmetry where they perfectly merge together like
two ends of a circle finally meeting (2003). The story of a young woman who is jilted by her
fianc also unfolds in ellipses. In module [#6] she enters Manias car, on her way to prayer
for commitment from her fianc, a man she describes as full of contradictions. In module
[#2] she returns to the passenger seat, after her little tragedy has occurred, and reveals her
fianc has left her. In this module, Kiarostami enacts a literal unveiling as she removes her
head-scarf to reveal a radical new (shaved) haircut (2003). In both cases, Kiarostami works
with principles of variation, repetition and cinematic duration to structure the discrete modules
of Ten into the holistic shape they conform to in their final arrangement.
The principle of variation is also evident from Kiarostamis handling of Point of View (POV) and
execution of the Long Take. For example, in the opening module [#10], Amin is held in POV
for 17 minutes. Kiarostami only provides a cut to Mania on Amin exit, a cut on his angry slam
of the car door. The prolonging of a disassociation of Manias voice (from her image) works in
two ways in Ten. Firstly, it exploits audience engagement from the outset (curiosity) and
secondly, it foreshadows the cinematic unveiling to follow (2003).
When the image [of Mania] finally comes, its a revelation, both in the sense that it confounds
our expectations about what she may possibly look like, and, in the sense on an unveiling of
someone being exposed to public scrutiny. This is after all a film dealing with the image of
women within an Islamic culture (2003).
The minimalist treatment of POV in the first module [#10] (one angle plus Long Take) is varied
in the following module [#09], where Kiarostami orchestrates a dynamic inter-cutting of
dashboard-cam between Mania and her sister. If the beginning of Ten anticipates a rigid
formalism, as the film progresses it becomes evident that Kiarostamis modular (narrative)
structure is one which actually allows a high degree of variation within the constraints
established. For example, at the end of module [#7], POV detaches itself altogether from
dashboard-cam and switches to Manias POV: when she watches the prostitute (who has just
exited her car) walk over to engage a prospective client in a car parked beneath a flashing red
traffic light. In this instance, POV is sustained in long shot with the temptation to cut to a

closer (more voyeuristic) shot withheld. Also, in Ten any pretence to real-time (a buzz-word
of digital cinema) is avoided. This is counter to a tendency evident from recent exercises in the
digital Longer Take as executed in Russian Ark (Sokurov, 2002) and Timecode (Figgis,
2000). In contrast, the cinematic duration of Ten remains ambiguous. Eight of the ten
sequences are set during the day. Only two sequences [#7] and [#4] set at night but have
two daytime sequences sandwiched between them.
From this analysis, it has been shown that Kiarostami works with a series of constraints (or
rules) which he then deliberately contaminates in deference to precise storytelling. Here, the
narrative shape of Ten is not one of seriality(which obstructs narrative progression) nor that of
a perfect circle (via Caputo) but rather one of deformation, somewhere in-between. This is
reinforced by the fact that Ten does not offer narrative closure (resolution) but rather
continuation, which is appropriate to the deferred nature of human fulfilment, rendered in
Kiarostamis small tragedies. (Hayes 2002:1). The final line of dialogue in the film is telling,
when Amin instructs Mania: Take me to Grandmas. So, Ten closes with simply another
journey, another conversation, another destination.or more bleakly an impossibility of
resolution where each [character] seems trapped, unable to give or receive help (2002: 2).
InTen, the Open Screenplay functions as narrative scaffolding which allows the overall shape
of the film to be sculpted by Kiarostamis assured hands.
This cinematic manipulation of Ten via symmetry, hierarchy, repetition and variation (all
fundamental principles of design practice) can be read in relation to the filmmakers previous
career. Kiarostamis path to the cinema was via graphic design and illustration, which forms an
explanation for his dexterity with these compositional principles.
Ive learned a lot from graphic design, which in my opinion is the mother of all art forms. You
have to say what you want in a small space the page of a magazine, for example and say
it in a convincing way. It is the art of communication (Kiarostami in Bono 1990: 157 quoted
in Elena 2005: 216).

Figure
(Ching 1979: 333)

2:

Ordering

Principles

Kiarostami at Play
In the fiction feature film the assumption remains that a filmmaker is contracted to produce a
single, discrete configuration of cinematic time. Recent digital cinema has gone some way to
counteract this notion. For example, Mike Figgis used his Timecode (2000) as the basis for a
series of live re-mix (VJ) performances and Caspar Strackes film Circles Short Circuit (1998)

is one assembled from five separate sections designed to be screened in any order (Willis
2005: 41).
Modularity is listed, by new media theorist Lev Manovich, as a key principle of the new media
to describe a part-whole relationship: where media elements exist as discrete modules with
the potential to be assembled into larger-scale objects, while retaining their independence
(Manovich 2001: 30) Another principle of the new media is that of Variability (made possible
by Modularity). This framework provokes the idea that the digital feature film might exist in
different, potentially infinite versions (2001: 36). In this context, does the digital cinema
of Ten conform to new media logic? On one hand Ten does conform, as a series of media
objects (ten narrative modules) assembled into a larger scale object (the feature film). Yet, on
the other hand, this article has suggested so far that Ten also represents a precisely crafted
story, evident from the placement, duration and juxtaposition of its discrete narrative
modules. Furthermore, the cinematic diagram (above) suggests that Ten is not a film from
which alternative versions might be generated. However, there is some evidence to the
contrary.
In 1997, a series of festival screenings of Taste of Cherry in Italy were shown with the digital
epilogue erased. In response to this, film critic Jonathon Rosenbaum sent a letter to Abbas
Kiarostami which pleaded with him to retain the epilogue. For Rosenbaum, this was presented
to the spectator as a gift that has complex and profound consequences in terms of how every
viewer comes to terms with everything in the film preceding that ending (Rosenbaum 1998:
36). Kiarostamis faxed response to his letter reveals (an unanticipated) interest in variability
for the feature film via a notion of play:
I just saw the dubbed version of my film in Italy and decided to play around
the film with and without the video ending in several cities. Some theatres
film with the video ending and some without. Its just the sort of playing,
film.a play that you can see the audience reactions after two different
speaking, I like this play..its very interesting like cinema (1998: 37).

the screening of
are showing the
done out of the
endingsfrankly

If Kiarostamis digital cinema is to evolve, as a form of cinematic playfulness, then this would
represent a violent collision of new media aesthetics with a well established auteur-based art
cinema. A wayward prediction perhaps, but it is important to note that such hybridity is not
inconsistent with Kiarostamis open approach to filmmaking, particularly when situated as a
Counter-Cinema to both Western mainstream cinema and the digital dogmatism of recent
digital cinema.
If the cinematic is often located within representation of expansive landscapes, execution of
baroque camera moves, displays of heightened performance or emotive soundtracks. then
Kiarostamis Ten is a film which mounts a bold challenge to such assumptions. Ten is a film
confined to a single car, filmed with two fixed camera angles, devoid of soundtrack
composition (until the end credits) and cast with non-professional actors. In a close reading
of Ten, this article has revealed the Open Screenplay to be scaffolding for a rich cinematic
architecture. The direction that Tenshifts Kiarostamis cinema is towards a Digital Micro
Cinema, a cinema born from a marriage between small-scale (micro) film production and
digital production. This article has revealed, via Ten, hownotions of access and intimacy have

been reconfigured in the digital context, toward the exploration of new (and expanded)
cinematic spaces and, of course, new cinematic stories. It has also been suggested that
Kiarostami exploits design principles, in his deft manipulation of modularity, variation and
repetition. Kiarostamis first digital feature is a small, yet significant film which, in the
emerging landscape of digital cinema, opens up an exciting new space.
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