“Certified Copy” opens with a man talking about authenticity in art. The title of the film is the title of his book, in which he argues that a reproduction is as good as the real thing. A copy is itself a work of art. This provocative thesis will be played out over the next hour and a half, as the British writer (played by William Shimell) touring Tuscany takes a voyage into the country — and into the heart — with a French fan (played by Juliette Binoche). Or at least, that’s what she looks to be at first. But then, nothing in “Certified Copy” is as it seems.
| On-screen |
| ‘Certified Copy’ |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
| Stars: Juliette Binoche, William Shimell |
| Director: Abbas Kiarostami |
| Rated: Not rated (no nudity or language, but grown-up themes) |
| Running time: 106 minutes |
The woman (who remains nameless) must leave James Miller’s talk, as her testy adolescent son is anxious to eat. She gives her phone number to his translator, though, and they meet in the antique shop she owns. He tries to establish a connection with her immediately — they share an interest in beautiful, old things. But from then on, the tables are turned as the man becomes increasingly remote, while the woman becomes more desperate about the distance. The two that might have begun a relationship soon seem like an old married couple. Quite literally: When the proprietor of a cafe mistakes them for husband and wife, they immediately assume the roles. The viewer thinks they are playacting — until stories told separately begin to match up, and it’s not clear where the forgery ends and reality begins.
“Certified Copy” is the first feature auteur Abbas Kiarostami has made outside his native Iran. It was all but banned there — the luscious Binoche shows some cleavage throughout.
Shimell is a British baritone making his film debut. He’s an engaging presence, cool and confident in front of the camera. He holds his own against the veteran Binoche, who has transformed over the years from a delicate girl to a vulnerable but assertive woman before our eyes. Kiarostami shoots them with a painter’s eye, bringing us right into the scene.
James looks at a copy and says neither it nor its predecessor should be described as the real thing. “She’s the real original,” he says, speaking of the painting’s subject. That might be the most important lesson of this thoughtful, yet sometimes infuriating, film.
