1. The circular repetition of images: images that regenerate themselves, but remain the same; silent witnesses, one replacing the other, one already watching the other even before the other has begun. ("The pieces of the game are picked up again. They will be re-diffused, different ones and the same, in the same way and differently.")
2. History: the accumulation of memory - forward going, but inwardly circular - leaving fragments, monuments, images, that seem to be able to speak, but stop before they are able to say their words. How do we reach the beyond, the infatigable - beyond the curtain of fact...who, besides the mute images, is left to bear witness?
3. Blindness: history blind to itself; images blind to each other; humanity blind to human beings.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
A Letter to Abbas Kiarostami
Dear Mr. Kiarostami,
I have just seen your latest film, Certified Copy. In it, William Shimell muses that there's nothing simple about being simple. I would like to believe the opposite. Your last few films, especially Ten and Shirin, showed how easy it was to be simple. You taught me that the simplest route to simplicity is to be simple. I've always tried to apply that not only to my filmmaking, but to my life as well. Simplicity is not something to be asked for, to be given. It is a pity we seem to think too much. No, simplicity is really quite simple.
You have always been interested in the line separating fiction and the real. I can understand that. After all, the camera reveals itself as much as it hides itself. The simplest way to understand this is neither to hide nor reveal - to let the camera be what it is, to let the audience see what it chooses to see. You seem especially concerned with your power in this film - your power in making the audience believe what it sees, your power to lead/mislead, your power to decide what is real/unreal. I like that idea - that the truth of the matter (whether the couple in your film is a married couple pretending to have just met each other, or vice versa) does not matter as much as its affects; that, like the painting in the museum scene, a copy can be just as beautiful as the original and can be appreciated as such. I find that interesting. I was never much interested in the truth in the first place - the reason; I was always more interested in its effects, the effects of effects, and tracing that network of emotion. That is why I have only been interested in the close up. You taught me precisely that in Shirin - that in the realm of passions, there is only the affection, the face - there is only emotion, that produces other emotions, collective emotions.
Why, then, are you so afraid to be simple in this film? Why are you so afraid of your audience? The heavy-handedness of your scenario makes the 'simplicity' of the camerawork seem forced. Is there really nothing simple about being simple? Why is your scenario fixated on the situation, rather than the affect? It's not enough to have Binoche and Shimell fight with and romance each other (we've already seen that in the Linklater films - they are much more concerned with affects), they have to explain every single banality of their relationship. In the name of simplicity, I shall ask you a simple question: why have you become so afraid of your audience?
The problem is Mr. Kiarostami, you seem to have overestimated your power. Maybe you used to lie well in the past, but not anymore. The petty conflicts which overinflate the characters' emotions are irritating and clumsy. Because although you might think that it's not about the truth, your scenario obsesses over the truth, makes it the center of the argument - and now the situation (idea) does not correspond with the affect. How, then, can you disregard truth, when you are lying to me in the most inept way?
Your film reminds me of a Rossellini film, The Miracle, which I like very much. The difference is that Rossellini says what he wants to say the only way he can say it, which is most often the simplest way. The simplest way you've found seems contrived because you are no longer content with being simple. You do not arrive at the simplest way by going through the most difficult way - you simply use the simplest way. Of course, you could use your film to argue for the difference between 'real' simplicity and 'forced' simplicity. To this, I'll just say fuck you Mr. Kiarostami.
To add to this argument, Mr. Kiarostami, if your name wasn't signed on this film, it would have just been another piece of uninteresting garbage (another case you can make regarding originals vs. copies). But precisely because you made your last few films, along with all the films in your career (save the last scene of Taste of Cherry, the smart-assness of which you have extended here to feature-length), this film is a steaming pile of shit. You have just turned your back on whatever aesthetic you had before. For that, I cannot forgive you.
Yours,
I have just seen your latest film, Certified Copy. In it, William Shimell muses that there's nothing simple about being simple. I would like to believe the opposite. Your last few films, especially Ten and Shirin, showed how easy it was to be simple. You taught me that the simplest route to simplicity is to be simple. I've always tried to apply that not only to my filmmaking, but to my life as well. Simplicity is not something to be asked for, to be given. It is a pity we seem to think too much. No, simplicity is really quite simple.
You have always been interested in the line separating fiction and the real. I can understand that. After all, the camera reveals itself as much as it hides itself. The simplest way to understand this is neither to hide nor reveal - to let the camera be what it is, to let the audience see what it chooses to see. You seem especially concerned with your power in this film - your power in making the audience believe what it sees, your power to lead/mislead, your power to decide what is real/unreal. I like that idea - that the truth of the matter (whether the couple in your film is a married couple pretending to have just met each other, or vice versa) does not matter as much as its affects; that, like the painting in the museum scene, a copy can be just as beautiful as the original and can be appreciated as such. I find that interesting. I was never much interested in the truth in the first place - the reason; I was always more interested in its effects, the effects of effects, and tracing that network of emotion. That is why I have only been interested in the close up. You taught me precisely that in Shirin - that in the realm of passions, there is only the affection, the face - there is only emotion, that produces other emotions, collective emotions.
Why, then, are you so afraid to be simple in this film? Why are you so afraid of your audience? The heavy-handedness of your scenario makes the 'simplicity' of the camerawork seem forced. Is there really nothing simple about being simple? Why is your scenario fixated on the situation, rather than the affect? It's not enough to have Binoche and Shimell fight with and romance each other (we've already seen that in the Linklater films - they are much more concerned with affects), they have to explain every single banality of their relationship. In the name of simplicity, I shall ask you a simple question: why have you become so afraid of your audience?
The problem is Mr. Kiarostami, you seem to have overestimated your power. Maybe you used to lie well in the past, but not anymore. The petty conflicts which overinflate the characters' emotions are irritating and clumsy. Because although you might think that it's not about the truth, your scenario obsesses over the truth, makes it the center of the argument - and now the situation (idea) does not correspond with the affect. How, then, can you disregard truth, when you are lying to me in the most inept way?
Your film reminds me of a Rossellini film, The Miracle, which I like very much. The difference is that Rossellini says what he wants to say the only way he can say it, which is most often the simplest way. The simplest way you've found seems contrived because you are no longer content with being simple. You do not arrive at the simplest way by going through the most difficult way - you simply use the simplest way. Of course, you could use your film to argue for the difference between 'real' simplicity and 'forced' simplicity. To this, I'll just say fuck you Mr. Kiarostami.
To add to this argument, Mr. Kiarostami, if your name wasn't signed on this film, it would have just been another piece of uninteresting garbage (another case you can make regarding originals vs. copies). But precisely because you made your last few films, along with all the films in your career (save the last scene of Taste of Cherry, the smart-assness of which you have extended here to feature-length), this film is a steaming pile of shit. You have just turned your back on whatever aesthetic you had before. For that, I cannot forgive you.
Yours,
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