Jul. 28, 2010 - Issue #771: Young at Heart

DVD Detective

I’m a pretender

Close-Up documents a strange case of impersonation

It's not stark enough to be considered parody, but Abbas Kiarostami is setting up a pretty sharp contrast with the first scene of Close-Up, his sort-of documentary about a man pretending to be a famous Iranian filmmaker, finally out on a typically lush new DVD release from Criterion. In it, we're following a reporter, Hossain Farazmand, on his way to try and find the home of the Ahankhahs. Full of ingratiating talk for the cabbie who's driving him and bluster about a story that only comes along once in a lifetime, he lays the groundwork for our story: at the Ahankhahs, there is a man purporting to be famous Iranian filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalbaf, and he is going to expose him in a sensational piece.

Kiarostami is going to expose this man too—Hossain Sabzian, a labourer who would be otherwise nondescript—but he's far less interested in the sensational aspects of the story. For Kiarostami it is less the story of a lifetime than the story of a life, not so much how but why exactly Sabzian not only passed himself off as Makhmalbaf, but continued the charade for as long as he did, meandering through the Ahankhahs home pretending to set up shots, talking to them about starring roles, eating lunch and making idle chat about the film business.

That's only emphasized by his technique, which intersperses Sabzian's courtroom testimony with recreated moments from Sabzian's deception of the family—starring all the real people who were actually involved as themselves. That's a pretty brilliant stroke, as it not only focuses the questions of reality brought up both by the act of filmmaking itself and, of course, Sabzian's actions, but also puts us, insomuch as is possible, directly into the emotional lives of everyone involved, gives us full access to the scope of Sabzian's humanity and lets us understand where he's coming from.

As much as we could talk about the philosophical implications of real people playing out a story where a man pretends to be another—and a filmmaker, no less—it is that emotional investment, I think, that really makes Close-Up something special. That's really what makes Kiarostami's film feel like more than just a clever conceit, and as smartly as he attends to his headier questions, Close-Up's most powerful moments come as we get further into Sabzian.

Most of that happens through the court testimony, where he is asked to explain himself by a stern but understanding judge. I haven't any clue if court in Iran is always this forthright, but Sabzian has an earnestness and a genuine understanding of self that seems quite rare whatever the circumstance.

His descriptions of what Makhmalbaf's films mean to him are often quite beautiful in their simply-expressed way, and seem purely infused with the kind of poetic but pure romanticism that artists themselves often ascribe to their work. More touching still are his descriptions of what it means to have people treat him like Makhmalbaf: I guess that's the obvious reason for doing what he did, but the disarming way he talks about being respected and having people genuinely want to be around him says far more about the dream of celebrity than libraries of academic texts or bemoaning columns.
But then, of course, there's the open question as to whether any of that is sincere. As one of the Ahankhah sons rightly points out, Sabzian has proven rather adept at lying about who he is, and it's entirely possible that all this talk of dignity and respect is just another bit of his act. Sabzian wasn't really malicious in his deception—he only accepted money, and not even a great deal of it, once—and the fact he's actually in the film speaks to some degree of reconciliation with everyone involved, but still, it's entirely possible that he's just very adept at knowing what people want to hear. As the judge points out, there are times when it seems he's speaking for the camera, and his familiarity with Makhmalbaf would suggest that he knows a bit about what this particular audience would like to hear.

None of that really gets resolved, thankfully, and instead our climax is an absolutely gorgeous, simple shot of Sabzian riding on a scooter with Makhmalbaf himself, heading towards the Ahankhah home to make amends. In sharp contrast to its title, Close-Up ends with a distant shot of its subject, at times barely even visible behind bushes and between cars, suggesting that, however much he tells us, we won't ever really know much of anything about Sabzian. He's simply a man that once pretended to be another man, and take of that what you will. V  vueweekly.com comments: powered by Disqus