The silent killer for men in the modern age is loneliness. Abbas Kiarostami, the director of Taste of Cherry, is acutely aware of this social plague in his 1997 Palme d’Or-winning film, which studies the relationship between control and death through the journey of its main character creating the most understanding approach in cinema.

The storyline itself is beautifully simple - a Tehranian man known as Mr Badii, portrayed by veteran actor Homayoun Ershadi, traverses the hilly landscape of Tehran in his car with a single goal in mind: to find somebody to bury his body after he commits suicide that evening. However, this simple narrative twists upon itself and forces the audience to engage in philosophical and religious debates surrounding suicide as he meets several different characters from different walks of life - a reluctant Muslim student, an inexperienced soldier and a compassionate taxidermist. He spends time with each of them, resulting in an internal debate over his final goal, in which the audience is invited to join. Each man has vastly different ideas and reasoning, but all express a desire against Badii’s wishes for various rationales. The ending is left ambiguous, with Badii lying in the dirt as the picture darkens. Michael Price describes the ending, a 2-minute black screen, as 'leav[ing] one with oneself, aware of oneself, watching nothing, expecting all’, which forces the viewer to take on the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness that Badii experiences in the film as they partake in an open-ended discussion surrounding his fate.

This is where the crucial theme lies: the nonchalance of male mental health. Taste of Cherry tackles a hard, and often taboo, subject matter, with very few notable films following suit in the 25+ years since its release; although this is likely due to obvious reasons such as it being an uncomfortable idea to portray on film, or being an issue that still is not taken as seriously as what it should be. Mr Badii simply does not care for living anymore and is perfectly content following through with his plan, and the attitude surrounding this makes the film unique, especially in the wider context of the world. As A.S. Hamrah states, Badii 'wants them to help him commit an act that will lead to secrecy and guilt on their part, and one that is, furthermore, against Islamic law’, asking people to betray their belief system and completely oppose the teachings of Abrahamic religions to fulfil his desires. This in turn raises questions about how society has let a man stray from his path so much as to ask others to help him with this forbidden act, mirroring how when suicidal intent is at its highest, it is a controlling force upon the brain which negates awareness to pre-established traditional rules and norms. Taste of Cherry captures this ideation through Badii’s attitude towards suicide, being non-discriminatory with his requests, and failing to acknowledge or remember the cultural and societal boundaries which already lie in place.

Badii's faith-based questioning is juxtaposed by Mr Bagheri, portrayed by Abdolrahman Bagheri in his only film role. Bagheri is the only character who can empathise with Badii, detailing his struggles with mental health and his failed attempts at suicide, grounding the film by transforming it at times into a simple discussion between two men who have both needed help. By grounding this dialogue in everyday experiences and feelings, without it being exacerbated by a desire for dramatisation, Kiarostami creates an engaging and believable dialogue that captures the essence of humanity within a morbid subject, showing us the connections that can be fostered within conversations. It is perhaps Mr Bagheri’s casual demeanour which best highlights a blasé approach to the subject matter, treating it as relatable and rational, but most importantly: realistic.

With male mental health crises continually portrayed within media as an eccentricity, a non-dramatised take is always a fresh perspective for viewers to engage with, no matter how long it has been since it was released. Having a more realistic and dialogue-focused take is paramount to achieving the required representation which exists for other underseen ailments. However, although we would like to believe that films such as this paved the way for more lifelike depictions of struggle and the pressure on men to hide it due to societal expectations, there have been very few recent examples. Even films which feature allusions to male mental health often delve no deeper than wrist-bandages and broken hearts, à la Little Miss Sunshine (2006) and The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), both of which choose to emphasise the visual signs, rather than the straight-faced stoicism we see in Taste of Cherry. Crucially, this is as pragmatic a depiction of the common male mindset as one could ask for, with the audience finding themselves full of dread and the desire for Badii to change his mind, although failing to recognise that some of them have been in a not dissimilar position before.

By telling a story which will forever remain relevant, it can capture one of the most believable experiences recounting mental health. It does so without drawing attention to the act itself, or sensationalising it, and perfectly demonstrates the nonchalance that often surrounds discussion of male mental health. Taste of Cherry is ultimately a tale of caution, which should be seen at least once by anybody who enjoys cinema. 

Written by Freddie Smith.