“There is only one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide”, said Albert Camus at the outset of his seminal essay The Myth of Sisyphus. He further argues that — “deciding whether or not life is worth living is to answer the fundamental question in philosophy.”
Suicide is also the central theme of legendary Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami’s astounding work Taste of Cherry. It’s the fascinating story of a man by the name of Badii in search of an accomplice for his suicidal act, who drives along dusty roads in the outskirts of Tehran, offering charity to anyone who agrees to play the part. On his journey, he comes across three unique characters — a young soldier returning to his barracks, an Afghan seminarian visiting his friend, and a taxidermist who works at the natural history museum. Two of them would not have anything to do with his suicide and reject Mr. Badii’s proposal — the soldier out of fear and the seminarian due to his religious sentiments. The taxidermist, however, agrees to the proposal as he desperately needs money for his child’s medical care. Nonetheless, on their drive to the museum, the taxidermist insists that Mr. Badii ought to change his mind and drop the idea of killing himself. Their conversation (or rather the taxidermist’s monologue) can serve as an excellent meditation on Camus’ “absurdism” and the meaning of life.
But first, here’s an excerpt from the conversation between Mr. Badii and the Afghan seminarian where Badii reveals his intentions—
Mr. Badii: I’ve decided to free myself from this life.
The seminarian: What for?
Mr. Badii: It wouldn’t help you to know and I can’t talk about it and you wouldn’t understand. It’s not because you don’t understand but you can’t feel what I feel. You can sympathize, understand, show compassion. But feel my pain? No. You suffer and so do I. I understand you. You comprehend my pain, but you can’t feel it.
What Mr. Badii is talking about here is as close as it can get to that great existential despair that philosophers have meditated upon for centuries. Sure, Mr. Badii might have some more “materialistic” reasons for his suicidal thoughts, but his crisis is also the crisis that every man feels when confronted with the absurdity of life. As Camus eloquently wrote — “At any street corner, the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face.”
However, unlike Badii, and much like Camus himself, the taxidermist decided to face this absurdity with a sense of courage and hope, reminding the viewers that life is only as meaningful as we make it.
“I’ll tell you something that happened to me. It was just after I got married. We had all kinds of troubles. I was so fed up with it that I decided to end it all. One morning, before dawn, I put a rope in my car. My mind was made up. I wanted to kill myself. I set off for Mianeh. This was in 1960. I reached the mulberry tree plantations. I stopped there. It was still dark. I threw the rope over a tree but it didn’t catch hold. I tried once, twice but to no avail. So then I climbed the tree and tied the rope on tight. Then I felt something soft under my hand. Mulberries. Deliciously sweet mulberries. I ate one. It was succulent, then a second and third. Suddenly, I noticed that the sun was rising over the mountaintop… What sun, what scenery, what greenery! All of a sudden, I heard children heading off to school. They stopped to look at me. They asked me to shake the tree. The mulberries fell and they ate. I felt happy. Then I gathered some mulberries to take them home. My wife was still sleeping. When she woke up, she ate mulberries as well. And she enjoyed them too. I had left to kill myself and I came back with mulberries. A mulberry saved my life. A mulberry saved my life.”
After this profound and “fruitful” monologue, the taxidermist asks Mr. Badii — “You want to give up the taste of cherries?” This seems to reiterate Camus’ firm affirmation of the simple joys of life despite the futility of everything that exists within it.
We don’t ever find out what happened to Mr. Badii and his suicidal pact. He does lie down in the hole (you need to watch the film to know more about this hole) but whether he lives or dies is a question that the director left unanswered. Maybe he changed his mind while looking up at the beauty of a full moon from his so-called burial site, or maybe his pain overtook the better of him. Either way, the message of the film is vigorously conveyed — life is to be experienced, no matter what!
The bottom line is — go watch Abbas Kiarostami’s films. They speak to your depths.
