Meteor: Sohrab Shahid Saless by Mahmoud Behraznia is a documentary with a different perspective on Sohrab Shahid Saless, a leading Iranian filmmaker. Someone whose viewpoint at cinema and the special type of aesthetics he used in his films has been a path-breaker for many Iranian filmmakers. The film provides the viewer with new information about the life and work of Sohrab Shahid Saless in Germany.

Samad is to be sent to the city courthouse for his fights where he points his finger at others, and he happens to be handcuffed to a male smuggler. Along the way, the smuggler manages to escape with the help of one of his accomplices, and since his hand was tied to Samad's, they are forced to take Samad with them. After they untie the handcuffs, they decide to kill Samad, but the smuggler's accomplice, who was a girl and happened to be the daughter of the gang boss, does not allow them to kill Samad out of emotion. So they take him to a cinema and while Samad is immersed in a Bruce Lee karate movie, they leave him there and leave. Samad becomes fascinated with Bruce Lee and karate after watching the karate movie, and after returning to the village, he tries to teach the villagers karate by imitating Bruce Lee's martial arts moves.

After being wrongly accused of stealing from his former boss, an Iranian gangster with girl problems must hunt down stolen drugs in this neon-noir fever dream set in the bizarre Persian and Russian Los Angeles underworld where obscene reigns supreme.

As in his earlier films, this uncompromising Iranian director works through repetition, his style so unemphatic that the slightest modulation (the same action seen from different perspectives, for instance) carries a charge. Saless' camera simply fastens, in long, uninflected takes, on the daily rountine of a Turkish worker in Berlin, a Gastarbeiter like any other. We see him at his job, a dedicated prisoner to his monotonous machine; travelling home on the underground, where only a drunk will talk to him; walking home to the shabby room he shares with other Turkish workers, and where he ocasionally writes letters home and regularly counts his money. The determined austerity has an almost mesmeric effect; and seems almost too calculated until one begins to feel the enervating isolation of these mortgaged lives. For all that the foregin worker tries to engage with his adopted city (and he does try, inarticulately but with an innocent single-mindedness), he might just as well have come from another planet."
David Wilson, "Sighe and Sound"