Sometimes a movie is just a movie. But then you have a film like Where Is the Friend's House? (1987), which is basically a miracle disguised as a simple story about a kid trying to return a notebook. If you haven't seen it, the plot sounds almost too thin to work. A schoolboy named Ahmed realizes he accidentally took his classmate Mohammad’s notebook home. If Mohammad doesn't turn in his homework in that specific book the next day, the teacher—who is pretty terrifying—will expel him.
Ahmed has to find his way to the neighboring village of Poshteh. He doesn't know where Mohammad lives. He’s just a kid.
Abbas Kiarostami, the director, didn't use professional actors for this. He went to the Koker region in northern Iran and found real people. This choice is why the movie feels less like a "film" and more like you’re eavesdropping on a real life. It’s the first part of what critics now call the Koker Trilogy, followed by And Life Goes On and Through the Olive Trees.
The Search for the Friend's House is a Moral Odyssey
Most movies about kids treat them like mini-adults or cute props. Kiarostami doesn't do that. He shows the world from Ahmed's eye level. In this world, adults are often busy, dismissive, or stuck in their own rigid ways. When Ahmed tries to tell his mother he needs to return the book, she just tells him to do his own homework. She’s not being "evil." She’s just a busy parent in a rural village.
But for Ahmed, the stakes are life and death.
This is where the tension comes from. It’s not a car chase. It’s the sight of a small boy running up a zig-zagging path on a hill, over and over again. That path has become one of the most iconic images in world cinema. Honestly, it’s just a dirt trail, but it represents the weight of a child's conscience.
The repetition is the point. Ahmed goes to Poshteh, gets lost, talks to people who don't listen, finds the wrong house, and goes back. He’s persistent. The film asks a heavy question: What do we owe each other? In a society governed by strict, often arbitrary rules (like the teacher’s threat), a small act of kindness becomes a radical act of rebellion.
Why Kiarostami Chose Koker
Kiarostami wasn't looking for picturesque scenery. He wanted a specific kind of authenticity. The village of Koker and the nearby Poshteh are characters themselves. The stone walls, the narrow alleys, and the way sound travels across the valley all play into the feeling of being lost.
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Actually, there’s a tragic footnote to this location. A few years after the film was released, a massive earthquake hit the Gilan Province in 1990. It killed tens of thousands of people. Kiarostami went back to the area to find out if the two boys from the movie—Babek and Ahmad Ahmedpour—were still alive. That journey became the basis for the second film in the trilogy.
It’s weird to think about. You watch Where Is the Friend's House? and you see this beautiful, lived-in world, knowing that much of it was physically destroyed not long after. It adds a layer of ghostliness to the viewing experience.
The "Iranian New Wave" Context
You can't talk about this movie without mentioning the Iranian New Wave. Directors like Kiarostami, Mohsen Makhmalbaf, and later Jafar Panahi had to deal with intense censorship. They couldn't show certain political themes or physical intimacy.
So, they got creative.
They used "poetic realism." By focusing on children and simple, everyday situations, they could slip deep philosophical and social critiques past the censors. Where Is the Friend's House? isn't just about a notebook. It’s about the absurdity of authority. It’s about the way the elderly are disconnected from the young.
There is a scene with an old man who makes doors and windows. He walks with Ahmed and talks slowly—infuriatingly slowly for a boy in a rush. He represents a dying era of craftsmanship and a different pace of life. Ahmed is polite because he has to be, but you can feel his desperation. It’s a masterclass in pacing.
Minimalist Style vs. Maximum Impact
The film’s visual language is stripped down. There are no fancy camera movements or orchestral swells.
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Kiarostami uses "off-screen space" brilliantly. You often hear things happening outside the frame—a dog barking, a mother calling—which makes the world feel larger than what you see on the screen. The cinematography by Farhad Saba is naturalistic, using the golden light of the Iranian hills to create a sense of time passing. The sun is setting. Ahmed is running out of time.
It’s stressful. It’s a thriller where the "bomb" is a notebook.
Many people compare Kiarostami’s work to the Italian Neorealism movement of the 1940s. Like Bicycle Thieves, it’s about a desperate search for a mundane object. But Kiarostami adds a Persian poetic sensibility. He was a photographer and a poet before he was a filmmaker, and you can see that in how he frames the landscape.
Debunking the "Boring" Myth
Some people hear "minimalist Iranian film about a notebook" and think it’s going to be a slog. It’s not.
The movie is actually quite funny in a dry way. The way the adults constantly misunderstand each other or get hung up on tiny details is very human. There’s a scene where a man thinks he recognizes a piece of iron, and it turns into a whole thing. It’s the kind of circular logic you find in a Beckett play.
Also, Ahmed is a great protagonist. He’s not a "movie kid." He’s awkward and quiet, but his eyes tell you everything. You’re rooting for him so hard it hurts. When he finally gets home and has to deal with the aftermath, the tension doesn't let up.
What the Film Teaches About Responsibility
In the end, Ahmed makes a choice. Without spoiling the very last frame, it’s one of the most satisfying "reveals" in cinema history. It’s just a small pressed flower.
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But that flower represents the success of his mission.
The film suggests that true morality isn't about following the rules of the teacher or the parents. It’s about recognizing the humanity in someone else and doing what’s right, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s scary. Even when you’re small.
Takeaways for the Modern Viewer
If you’re looking to watch Where Is the Friend's House?, here are a few things to keep in mind:
- Watch for the repetition: Notice how Ahmed asks the same questions and gets different (or no) answers. It’s a commentary on the breakdown of communication.
- Observe the architecture: The way the houses are built into the hills reflects the social structure of the village.
- Don't expect a Western structure: There are no "save the cat" beats here. The movie moves at the speed of a child’s legs.
- Check the Criterion Collection: They have a restored version that looks incredible. The colors of the Iranian landscape really pop in the high-definition transfer.
To really appreciate the movie, you have to lean into its quietness. Turn off your phone. Forget about fast-paced editing. Let yourself get frustrated alongside Ahmed. When you finally reach the end, the payoff feels earned because you’ve walked (and run) every mile with him.
The legacy of this film is huge. It put Iranian cinema on the global map. It won the Bronze Leopard at the Locarno International Film Festival and has since been ranked by the British Film Institute as one of the "50 films you should see by the age of 14." But honestly, it’s for everyone. It reminds us that sometimes, the most important thing in the world is just being a good friend.
Next Steps for Film Lovers
To get the most out of this cinematic experience, start by watching Where Is the Friend's House? as a standalone piece. Once you've processed the ending, move on to the rest of the Koker Trilogy: And Life Goes On (1992) and Through the Olive Trees (1994). This progression will show you how Kiarostami blurs the line between fiction and reality, eventually revealing the "making of" the very films you are watching. It’s a meta-narrative journey that started with a single notebook and ended up redefining modern storytelling. For those interested in the technical side, look into Kiarostami's use of "stationary" shots and how they force the audience to observe the background details often missed in high-speed Hollywood productions.