“Is It Even Worth It?” - Taste of Cherry and the Quiet Reasons to Keep Going

Have you ever reached a point where everything seems to… collapse around you? As if the world is pressing down each step feels like climbing a peak your breath falters and the heaviness of life holds you so firmly that you question whether it’s worth continuing? The quiet is louder than any voice and your mind spins endlessly on that question: Does it still matter? Abbas Kiarostami’s Taste of Cherry doesn’t hurry to provide answers. It simply remains alongside you incredibly patient allowing room, for uncertainty, chaos and perhaps a subtle glimmer of something improved.

The film begins with a man named Badii driving through the dusty hills, near Tehran. The road twists aimlessly. The terrain looks battered and harsh lacking any gentleness. It seems like a place where optimism vanished ago. Badii’s expression is serene nearly blank. You can feel the turmoil within. Whatever troubles him is intense and deeply human. He’s not crying out. Dramatizing just utterly exhausted.

We've all experienced that moment haven't we? Not voicing it yet silently staring off as those gloomy thoughts sneak in. Mornings when forcing yourself out of bed feels like the task. The future appears as a vacant road. Badii reflects us not a figure to imitate. A presence we identify in the stillness.

He’s cruising about searching for someone to assist with this decision he believes is final. What makes the movie gripping is that Kiarostami never clarifies the reason. No tear-jerking backstory, no aha" moment. Pain isn’t always neatly packaged with explanations. Sometimes it simply arrives, intense and silent compelling you to confront it.

The first guy is a recruit. The conversation’s full of starts. The kid is courteous but inexperienced learning that life has its regulations. When Badii explains things clearly he. Runs. Not unfeeling just that others’ pain can be overwhelming, at times. Moment illustrating not everyone can support you yet your suffering remains genuine.

Then a seminarian quiet kind. Pays attention shares thoughts, on faith, responsibility, living a sacred life. Attempts to persuade Badii that suffering isn’t the story.. The movie avoids easy answers since words can’t erase pain. Belief resonates with some misses the mark for others. Kiarostami understands that subtlety.

Finally the taxidermist, older and worn by time proceeds at a slow pace. No panic, no lecture. Listens to him fully then relates his lowest moment. The man had been beneath a tree ready to give up life weighing heavily on him. Then a small detail catches his attention: fruit, sunlight casting warmth the world softly buzzing around. Delivers, to Badii this line so simple it stings:

“Are you surrendering the flavor of cherries?”

Not actual fruit. It’s those pleasures we overlook: the gentle glow slipping through blinds at sunrise laughter ringing through the hallway rain touching your skin after a warm day someone understanding you briefly. The guy isn’t claiming life is easy or dismissing pain. He’s simply saying that despair doesn’t define the reality.

The camera lingers throughout unhurried. Extended shots of streets, calm landscapes, vast skies. The silence is not void; it offers space to reflect, sense, breathe. The film speaks directly to you in that calm nudging at things we avoid because they unsettle us.

What if this ain’t the finish line?

What if the hurt morphs?

What if something positive lies just around the corner?

Taste of Cherry succeeds by avoiding pushing a message. It avoids evaluating the bleakness or softening it. It handles suffering with significance. It suggests that staying doesn’t require reasons. Sometimes simply being suffices.. Merely pausing.. Noticing one additional detail.

Night falls with the end approaching rain tapping steadily. There’s no conclusion, about Badii it's unknown. Intentionally so. Life isn’t a story; it’s unpredictable packed with surprises.

Then suddenly the fourth wall breaks the crew appears the sun is shining it’s movie magic. Keep in mind: this is fiction. Your life isn’t written in a script. The story is still unfolding.

If you’re currently overwhelmed with heavy thoughts weighing you down this isn’t meant to be a motivational speech. Merely a gentle reminder to hold on for a moment. Inhale deeply. Stay present.

No fixing it all today.

No instant purpose hunt.

Hope? Not required.

Just stay for whatever’s next.

Cherry sweetness.

A real talk.

Quiet pause.

Life’s sneaky gift.

So when you’re lost in your own hills, think of Badii. Even silence carries a whisper not yelling, not obvious, just soft, waiting for you to tune in and keep going. As Kiarostami himself might echo through the ages, The film doesn’t tell you to live; it reminds you that living is already a miracle worth tasting.