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,
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2 comments:
Dear Mr. Kiarostami,
I can sense that my friend is really angry at you right now. But don't worry too much, this kind of anger can come only from someone who truly cares about you.
My friend has his points and I've always been and will always be interested in what he has to say. I don't necessary agree with him, but he never fail to make me stop and think hard. I can't articulate what on my mind as well as he can so please bear with me.
Even though your Certified Copy might not be my favorite film of yours, I still do appreciate it. I can see the shift in tone, subject matter and style. And the fact that the film comes out at this point of your career and your age, it just make me very curious. What direction are you taking? Is it for better or worse? this I really cannot say. But I trust you, and I know whatever happens, happens for a reason. Is it because it's your first film outside your own country? Is it because the problems during the production?
Or maybe it's true that simplicity is really not that simple?
I can imagine myself being old and have a lot of things to say. It's possible that I might not be too careful how I say it any longer. If the message can come across, even in a bit clumsy kind of way, my job is done. That's what counts, doesn't it? I might not care if I'm going to look calm and cool or "simple"? any longer. Because it's not about me anymore... It's not about me as a "filmmaker" anymore?
I cried watching Certified Copy. It's the scene where the old guy was telling William Shimell's character to just put his arm on his wife's shoulder. And so he did. And I cried. Is it a simple scene? Is a scene like that easy to achieve by a filmmaker, especially from someone like you? I don't know. I dare not say. But what I do know, though, is it's a simple act. Putting your arm on someone's shoulder is very simple act. Though it can mean the world to the person who might need it.
And for that alone, Mr. Kiarostami, I salute you. Maybe that's why you've always been my hero. And you still are. Maybe it's really that simple. And that's probably all I need from you, or from anybody.
After all, we're only human.
Sincerely Yours,
Dear Boat,
Your comments mean more to me than any film in the world. I've realized that I understood Mr. Kiarostami the way I wanted to understand him; he was a hero to me for reasons that were solely mine. I make that mistake way too often. And so, when he veers away from what my ideals were, I find it impossible to trust him anymore; or, to put it another way, I find it impossible to trust myself anymore.
Cinema is a strange thing. You can grasp it, but it always slips through your hands. Sadly, I have become so uninterested in contemporary cinema (for reasons that are, again, completely my own) that it is hard to even try grasping any of it at all. But that is life, I guess - our heroes turn to dust, and our monuments get buried under the sand.
Maybe you're right. Why be simple when you can be complicated? And why is 'simple' and 'complicated' even opposed to each other in the first place? You teach me one thing that no other filmmaker in the world can teach me (maybe save for Thom Andersen) - humility. And for that I am always grateful to have met you.
I hope you're doing well and I wish you all the love and happiness in the world.
Love,
Daniel
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