2012 Directed by Abbas Kiarostami
An old man and a young woman meet in Tokyo. She knows nothing about him, he thinks he knows her. He welcomes her into his home, she offers him her body. But the web that is woven between them in the space of twenty four hours bears no relation to the circumstances of their encounter.
Abbas Kiarostami’s latest film continues to explore the themes and obsessions that have characterised the filmmaker’s career. Continuing to work outside his native Iran - this time in the sprawling metropolis of Tokyo - Kiarostami once again delves into the slippery subject of truth and identity in this languid and elusive chamber piece.
Like Someone in Love is a simple film on the surface - a story about a young sociology student and part-time escort, Akiko, who develops a relationship with a retired professor over a two-day period - yet dig beyond the veneer and the film reveals its complex riches. In many ways it is a companion piece to Kiarostami’s last film, Certified Copy, but one I found far…
Not that Kiarostami's ever been a "Hello, here is your narrative" kind of guy, but Like Someone In Love's especially perverse in terms of foregrounding non-essential narrative information. Phones ring and lead to useless, annoying conversations; as a taxi circles a train station plaza so Akiko (Rin Takanashi) can catch a glimpse of her grandmother, a van pulls into the POV shot and inches along with maddening consistency, persistently blocking a view of the old lady. The opening sequence is just shot-countershot, but you spend the whole first shot trying to figure out who's speaking, only gradually determining that the voice you're hearing isn't attached to anyone you see but someone behind the camera, or maybe somewhere else entirely. Mise-en-scene…
Abbas Kiarostami continues his global escapades away from his native Iran with Like Someone in Love, an elusive piece of contemplative cinema set in Tokyo that serves as a companion film to the excellent Certified Copy. The auteur brings back the familiar themes of alienation, the feeling of loneliness in a big city, the clever mistaken identity schtick from his previous effort, and of course ambiguity. I’m highly impressed with the direction Kiarostami is taking with these non-Iranian films of his, all of which happen to share a thematic quality that is playfully light-hearted yet at the same time quite beguiling and dark. His latest is a compelling addition to this new phase of his illustrious career.
Rin Takanashi plays…
Takashi: "The young woman is teaching the parrot to speak."
Akiko: "I always thought the parrot was teaching the young woman to speak."
Kiarostami is a master at exploring the subjective nature of art and the constant clash between fantasy and reality. "Like Someone In Love" contains (at least) two exquisite cinematic sequences, none more sublime than Akiko's regret-filled, late-night taxi ride through Tokyo. Hat tip to Josh Larsen: great litmus test for how engrossed in the film you are is to see how hard you strain to spot grandma at the train station.
"...but violence in society interests me."
Probably Kiarostami's best and most focused movie. Here's another one to chalk up to digital cinema: because of the sharpness and shallower depth of field of most digital cameras, digital captures reflections much better than 35mm. (see also: Road to Nowhere, Jersey Boys). And there are reflections galore in this movie, identities constantly shifting and on the verge of collapsing on one another. Kiarostami's venture into urban spaces also lapses into his car sequences, and reflections feature much more prominently and more effectively than in Certified Copy. Reflections are everywhere, the city-scapes of Tokyo are inescapable, figuring here almost expressionistically; IMO two car sequences, the first being the taxi one, the second being the…
Whether it's in a restaurant, in a taxi, in the professor's Volvo, or as a reflection on a television screen, Akiko is always shown behind a glass. It almost looks like she was imprisoned, locked in her own transparent cage, built by the collective effort of her guilt and shame for being a student prostitute.
Inside the taxi, Akiko looked out of the window and saw neon signs passing by her, from the outside, the lights were reflected onto her face as if they're closely watching her too. No dialogue in this particular scene, but you can tell the prostitute was screaming for help. Let me out! Let me out! Akiko felt like a tourist in her own city, out…
Super sophisticated modern filmmaking. Its form, outward and masterful, every shot crisp and almost too accurately digital. Here Kiarostami questions not human relationship per se, but human relationship relative to cinema, human relationship as cinema is wont to tell it. Kiarostami's cinema is more inquisition than storytelling. It's always brilliant. Godard was right.
Defining how love influences the processes of recognition of the individual is a complex task. Love is connected to ego dissolution, indeterminacy, almost as an element of rupture. The question that the film leaves for us is: Who are we when we are in love? Are we the parrot of the painting hanging in Professor Watanabe's house? Parrots teaching other Parrots on how to love.
Abbas Kiarostami's swansong was a fitting end to a glorious career. It is embellished by three wonderful lead performances, beautiful long takes. The ending may be abrupt but there is a lot to savour here.
Wherein our protagonists can't help but lie to cover the truth, and the antagonist can't help but tell the truth while uncovering the lies. Of course Akiko and Takashi are so often filmed behind glass, it's their flimsiest of disguises, where hopefully the light reflecting off each window will distort the truth just enough to make it difficult to see through. It intrigues as a follow-up to Certified Copy, and in some ways it's similar formally and thematically but with some subtle twists (as Kiarostami would constantly do with each successive project); there, lies and deception were used to "refresh" their relationship, but here, it's more as a defence mechanism, both for protecting oneself and for protecting others from the…
Kiarostami is a master of directing space. His blocking is among the best I’ve ever seen in film. Unlike Kurosawa, who conveyed emotion through exaggerated movement, Kiarostami’s is realistic, but poetic. I’m thinking of one shot in particular near the beginning of the film in which a woman’s pimp walks outside, and his reflection on the window shadows over the call girl inside. Another thing to learn is that you don’t always have to tell people where to look. In fact, Kiarostami sometimes keeps the camera away from things you may want to see. He’s forcing his viewers to be patient.
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Critic, Steve Boone says: "...every shot in the film, really, is its own universe." I would only add that this is the same for every sound.
Three wonderfully nuanced performances anchor this excellent late-period Kiarostami. Like Someone in Love is a meditative exploration on desire and perspective. The movie will linger with you long after the final frame.
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