About a year and a half after his death, here comes a feature that can be thought of as an experiment with time, an ambient essay on the act of watching, an attempt to entirely Buddhist-ize digital cinema. Or, if you're an impatient philistine, you might think of it as 24 of the greatest screensavers ever crafted. 24 Frames is what it says it is -- 24 "frames," images digitally extrapolated out into 4 1/2-minute unconnected, unmoving set-piece shots. Sometimes an image is cadged from an outside source -- No. 1 is Pieter Bruegel's "The Hunters in the Snow," augmented with actively falling snow, live crows and dogs, and chimney smoke. No. 2 watches two wild horses court in the snow through an open car window. No. 10 watches sheep huddling headfirst around a tree in another snowstorm, a herd dog dozing beside them, with wolves showing up in the distance as we fade to black. Each micro-movie is its own koan, Kiarostami's phenomenological presence turning every image or camera posture into a question about living, seeing, empathy and essence.