Certified CopyIn a story, how much control do you, as the audience, really have over the untold "backstory"--that which give context to the plot, and prepares us for the actions and interactions of our characters? In truth, aside from what we are told--and what is shown as definite--very little if anything is for sure, and we tend to fill in the blanks as we go to help us when there is an absence. Filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami's Certified Copy takes this expectation and subverts it, presenting us with two people who, at first, we believe we have a good grasp on what their relationship is, but over time we learn just how much of it we only thought we knew.
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We have two central characters in this cinematic journey through Tuscany: William Shimell plays the only named character in the entire film--James Miller--an author giving a lecture on his book, which shares the name of the film, and Juliette Binoche plays the unnamed art dealer--who, for simplicity's sake, I will refer to her character by the name of the actress--and attends his lecture, along with her son. After her son interrupts her to take him for lunch, he teases her that she is infatuated with the author. She did provide her address to his translator for him to visit her shop later--which he does the next day--and the two of them go for a drive to the countryside. His attitude is almost disinterested, perhaps flippant, whereas she comes across as nervous and even stressed. Yet the two of them remain in one another's company, and converse over a variety of things that both reveal and disorient, challenging us to reconsider what we took for granted at the onset of the film regarding their relationship, or perhaps the nature of the two of them entirely. Miller's book is about the idea that a copy of a work of art is not without a kind of worth, and has a value in and of itself. It may be that he, in his nonchalant way, is advocating that forgery can bring a kind of satisfaction to art lovers, and that one's perspective is the real value of a work, not necessarily it's originality. Or, it could be that a copy is merely a representation of an original...a point he later makes by comparing even "original" works of art to their inspiration, making them copies as well. The idea that a copy--or mimicry--can be just as real as the original may be one of the more interesting ways to interpret Certified Copy, since over the course of the film--at one point or another, depending on your perspective--the relationship between "Binoche" and Miller changes so that all of a sudden, we see their history with one another as more than we originally perceived, that maybe what was unsaid was kept hidden from us to give us that sudden jostle, that different view into characters who are now more than the casual acquaintances we first saw them as.
Or, perhaps their relationship is even more unusual than what they claim. From our perception of "Binoche" and Miller as two people getting acquainted, sharing a similar interest in art--it's rather unusual that Miller claims to not appreciate art, and yet he would write a book about it--all of a sudden, they seem to transform into a married couple of fifteen years, their relationship on the ropes, as they attempt to rekindle (willingly or not) their romance. But even in this, other aspects don't seem fully resolved. There is no perfect answer, but I propose another "perspective": it may be entirely possible that these two characters do not know each other from before, and are engaged in a highly-sophisticated act of reciprocal role-play. Consider that Miller, again, does not truly value art; why would he write a book about it? The answer is, he didn't write a book about "art" per se, but a book about "copies", forgeries. For him, his interest lies in, well, the lie, the very same kind of subversion that the movie hinges on to force us to reevaluate our characters throughout. This is his game, and what keeps him thrilled. For "Binoche", as an art dealer (she admits some of her work is real, some a reproduction), she may even be an artist herself, and it might be that when she picks this author's brain and discovers that he cares little for the distinction between the fake and the real, she decides to pull him into a "game", one where we are never formally introduced to the rules, but with a little perspective, can see that she begins to concoct a kind of "forged" marriage between the two of them, a mimicry of a relationship they might have shared--they just have to act out the parts. And perhaps for Miller, the idea of being actively involved in a living forgery of a relationship is too exciting to refuse. For "Binoche", who already comes across as a bit of an unhinged romantic, the idea of recapturing that absent feeling in her life makes the deception all the sweeter. That would make for a fine story, too, if it were true. But there is no definite truth in Certified Copy, save for our ability to piece the story together on our own terms.
Recommended for: Fans of an exciting romantic drama between two fascinating characters, deftly weaving between English, French, and Italian. Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty cultivating the soil that is the backstory of these two.
Or, perhaps their relationship is even more unusual than what they claim. From our perception of "Binoche" and Miller as two people getting acquainted, sharing a similar interest in art--it's rather unusual that Miller claims to not appreciate art, and yet he would write a book about it--all of a sudden, they seem to transform into a married couple of fifteen years, their relationship on the ropes, as they attempt to rekindle (willingly or not) their romance. But even in this, other aspects don't seem fully resolved. There is no perfect answer, but I propose another "perspective": it may be entirely possible that these two characters do not know each other from before, and are engaged in a highly-sophisticated act of reciprocal role-play. Consider that Miller, again, does not truly value art; why would he write a book about it? The answer is, he didn't write a book about "art" per se, but a book about "copies", forgeries. For him, his interest lies in, well, the lie, the very same kind of subversion that the movie hinges on to force us to reevaluate our characters throughout. This is his game, and what keeps him thrilled. For "Binoche", as an art dealer (she admits some of her work is real, some a reproduction), she may even be an artist herself, and it might be that when she picks this author's brain and discovers that he cares little for the distinction between the fake and the real, she decides to pull him into a "game", one where we are never formally introduced to the rules, but with a little perspective, can see that she begins to concoct a kind of "forged" marriage between the two of them, a mimicry of a relationship they might have shared--they just have to act out the parts. And perhaps for Miller, the idea of being actively involved in a living forgery of a relationship is too exciting to refuse. For "Binoche", who already comes across as a bit of an unhinged romantic, the idea of recapturing that absent feeling in her life makes the deception all the sweeter. That would make for a fine story, too, if it were true. But there is no definite truth in Certified Copy, save for our ability to piece the story together on our own terms.
Recommended for: Fans of an exciting romantic drama between two fascinating characters, deftly weaving between English, French, and Italian. Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty cultivating the soil that is the backstory of these two.