Certified Copy
Howard Schumann

“I am all inwardness, gazing out in ever intensifying perplexity upon a world in which nothing is exactly plausible, nothing is exactly what it is.” – John Banville

Questions about the nature of reality, the purpose of existence, and whether a copy is as good as the original are raised in Abbas Kiarostami’s Certified Copy, a beautiful and entrancing film that can take its place among the director’s finest work. The Iranian director’s first film shot in the West, Certified Copy superficially resembles My Dinner with André, Before Sunset, and L’Avventura, yet stands alone as a unique work of art. With an intimacy rarely seen in film, the emotionally resonant performances of Juliette Binoche and William Shimell go straight to the heart, allowing us to perceive events on the screen as if they are unfolding in real time.

Set in Lucignano, a small village in Tuscany, the film is a puzzler in the tradition of the director’s 1990 masterpiece, Close-up, in which the line between fiction and non-fiction is blurred, and the viewer is left to sort out what is real and what is not. Certified Copy consists almost entirely of a conversation between two people, English author James Miller (Shimell), in Italy to tout his new book, Certified Copy, a book he had planned to call Forget the Original, Just Get a Good Copy, and Elle (or She) (Binoche), a French art dealer who operates an antique gallery in her basement store. Miller’s book has as its premise that copies of artistic works are the equal of their originals and that their quality depends simply on how they are perceived. “There are no immutable truths in art,” he says.

In the audience at Miller’s book promotion with her pre-adolescent son (Adrian Moore), Elle purchases six books and leaves her phone number with Miller’s friend. After a very testy conversation between mother and feisty son, James shows up at her home without explanation and they decide to take a scenic drive with no particular destination in mind. As they drive, their faces merge with the scenery as reflected in the car window, as if to infer that we are a part of all that is. Miller autographs six copies of his book and they talk about the relative value of original art versus copies, about Elle’s sister Marie who enjoys the simple pleasures in life, and about the purpose of existence.

Their discussion is civil and very rational, almost cerebral, until Elle relates a conversation she had with her son. In this talk, she tells him to get out of the rain or he will catch cold and the boy answers, “so what.” When she tells him that if he doesn’t listen, he can get sick and die, he again replies, “so what.” When James tells her that people should be left alone to have fun and enjoy life, Elle reacts indignantly, letting her companion know that he lives in concepts and has no idea about what it takes to raise a child, the first real show of emotion between the two. Things change abruptly once more when they stop at a café for coffee. As Miller is called outside to take a phone call, the café owner engages Elle in a discussion about the role of men and women in relationships, assuming that the two are husband and wife.

When James returns to the table, both he and Elle begin to act the part of a married couple, talking about love and commitment, leaving the viewer to wonder if they had been just pretending to be meeting for the first time. As they quarrel about their past and how each of them has changed over the years, Miller becomes increasingly on edge, becoming angry about a “corky” wine and walking out of the Trattoria after delivering a string of sarcastic apologies about why he is rarely at home and why he fell asleep on the night of their anniversary. Waiting for Elle outside the restaurant, they go into the village where they discuss a sculpture in the village square with some tourists. As they are leaving, one of the tourists calls Miller aside and tells him that all his female friend really wants is for you to put your hand on her shoulder.

Although James follows the tourist’s advice, an exhausted Elle walks into a church with James following. As they come out, they observe an elderly couple walking together in a supportive manner. In one of the films’ most moving moments, when they see the old couple’s faces lit up with affection, James and Elle stand in awe of their enduring relationship, as if they wish to make a copy of it for themselves. Attempting to get past the cynicism that has permeated their relationship this day, Miller and Elle visit the room in the hotel where they shared their wedding night, attempting to rekindle their initial experience of love.

Even though vast distances between them appear to exist, in the poet Rilke’s words, “a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if people succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole and against a wide sky." If the true nature of their relationship remains a puzzle, Certified Copy is so beautiful and real that it probably doesn’t matter. Even though we all play different roles during our lifetime, the identities we assume are not who we really are. As Kiarostami has said, "We are the slaves of a mask hiding our true face. If we free ourselves from this, the beauty of truth will be ours." That beauty is perfectly realized in Certified Copy.

©2011 Howard Schumann
CineScene