Where is certified copy playing

I enjoyed watching them, whatever they were up to. Binoche and Shimell always stay in the moment, and never signal us what they're up to. Binoche seems so attracted to the man in the early scenes that it seems they must have some history.

But it's certainly not the history they later seem to reveal. Throughout "Certified Copy," there's the sense of off-screen dimensions or untold side stories. Kiarostami is rather brilliant in the way he creates off-screen spaces. Consider the opening scene. We clearly see that Binoche has a seat in the front row of the lecture hall, directly in front of the historian. Then the POV changes around to regard her, and we never see him again.

Her son is standing at one side, trying to get her attention, eager to leave. She communicates with him using sign language and mouthing words. He comes over to her. She gives the man next to her a note with the address of her shop. She and the boy leave together. All this commotion is taking place, distractingly, close in front of the speaker — but we never see him react! Kiarostami creates an implied drama involving what Miller must be experiencing but refuses to see it.

There's also implied off-screen activity during the long drive they take. The camera regards them through the windshield for extended dialogue passages, sometimes cutting to inside the car. Filming people as they drive is one of Kiarostami's trademarks, and I wonder why. It is a way to explain why you're showing two people side by side and looking ahead; if you put them on a park bench that would look odd.

It's also a way to imply off-screen events on the road, and involving the passing scenery. What it comes down to is: We assume there's more going on here than meets the eye, but maybe what meets the eye is all that's going on, and there is no complete, objective reality. Does that also apply to a copy of a masterpiece of art? Since we started Miami New Times , it has been defined as the free, independent voice of Miami, and we'd like to keep it that way.

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Don't Miss Out. Join Today. Sign Up. I Support Learn More. Latest Stories. More ». Sign Up Now No Thanks. Become a member and go ad-free! Support Our Journalism. Privacy Policy. This Week's Issue. Do Not Sell My Info. All rights reserved. When this film was finished, I felt like I had just witnessed an entire relationship, from the first fruitful seeds, to infatuation and love and friction and wear and decay, and in a sense I had because that is essentially what the two characters of the film take us through.

The film begins with William Shimell, playing the role of modest and charming British academic who is promoting his book in Italy.

The idea of this book gives the film its title and what the whole film begins to play around with: the copy. The copy, and it's relation to the original, its authenticity, and whether one should invest any time in an original if a recreation is believable. He would answer 'no' to that last thought. Binoche is utterly captivating and her award for Best Actress at Cannes is entirely deserved. She is seemingly inexhaustible, communicating in Italian, French and English and losing no degree of vulnerability, bitterness or magnetism between the languages, and she has a remarkable way of kind of softly inhabiting any given situation but being able to turn caustic and uncomfortable with immediacy.

There are moments when the characters are sitting opposite each other in conversation and they are speaking directly into the camera, and when Binoche does this it's never less than transfixing.

Shimmel, for a first time actor is for the most part quite grounded and reserved, but it's with him that the film often feels at its flattest.

He's the more outwardly ruminating intellectual, always approaching things with a contemplative thought, and it often feels like the film is struggling to maintain a deep thought, as if in fear of being mocked for being nothing less than poetic. Maybe that's the way the character is supposed to be, but all his affectations get tiring. He comments on Eucalyptus trees being so totally unique, how each one has its own shape and definition and being unlike the other one, and as truthful as it might be, it's just a comment that leaves you thinking 'And?

The dialogue operates in these two modes, between fascinating and questionable, but never really finds its footing. Abbas Kiarostami is clearly a man who knows exactly what he wants to do and how to do it, and at the jolly age of 74 all the wisdom and joy and despair he must have accumulated in his lifetime can be felt here, in the vivaciousness and the bitterness of the characters, in the way a camera can just sit and stay trained for minutes on end and let the people unfurl themselves, but sometimes it feels like all he is trying to much to do justice to all his collected experience in life.

There's a shot toward the end with our couple standing in a courtyard together and just in front of them is a far older couple, man and wife, standing on the same side of each other, tentatively walking and supporting each other. The imagery is obvious but the connotations are beautiful, and it's the sort of a shot that could only have worked as aposiopesis to the journey preceding it.

Maybe that is the point So there was an ambivalence I felt throughout the film, but it's hard to dismiss something this lovingly made, as an expression of the melancholy of our relationships in life.

There's a blustery and picturesque feel throughout this Italian journey that is hard to argue with. Details Edit. Release date March 25, United States. France Italy Belgium Iran. French English Italian. Copia certificada. Lucignano, Italy. Box office Edit.

Technical specs Edit. Runtime 1 hour 46 minutes. Dolby Digital. Related news.