Ten

First of all, a few words of warning, rarely will a film divide audiences as radically as Iranian filmmaker, Abbas Kiarostami's latest, Ten. Redefining minimalism, the film, with the exception of a single short sequence, takes place in a female cabbie's car and follows ten conversations that she has with a number of passengers over the course of a couple of days. Those passengers, including her bitter seven-year-old son (Maher), are an eclectic bunch and include folks as diverse as an elderly, extremely religious woman, a contemptuous prostitute and the driver's sister.

Some may see the technical constraints as stifling; the film is entirely shot through two cameras attached to the car's dashboard, with precious little variation. Yet in being so dogmatic and rigid in his filming style, Kiarostami has allowed his lavish dialogue to dominate and the conversations give a stunning insight into the complexities of Iran society, and in particular, the role of women in the country. It's an extreme, ambitious exercise but the access that one gains into a culture is nothing short of remarkable.