Hossain Sabzian

In Close-Up (1990), the camera stays close to Hossain Sabzian's face without telling us how much to believe. He appears as himself, a man who has impersonated the filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalbaf. Sabzian's attachment to cinema helps explain the deception, and also supplies him with an excuse for it. We felt unexpectedly protective of him because these close-ups give him so much attention that dismissing him as a liar begins to feel cruel. The film is worth seeing for that discomfort alone.

Writer-director Abbas Kiarostami combines documentary footage with reconstructed events, so Sabzian is both the subject of the film and a participant in its making. There is little point in assessing him as though he were a professional actor disappearing into a part. His unpolished way of presenting himself holds our interest, especially when his passion for films becomes his explanation for what he has done. We can take that passion seriously without treating it as proof of honesty.

Ali Reza Zarrindast's cinematography preserves the rough look of documentary footage, and the close framing refuses to make each glance a helpful clue. Watching Sabzian closely does not make his sincerity any easier to settle. The shifts between recorded and reconstructed scenes can nevertheless be distracting: working out how a passage was made sometimes takes attention away from him. More troubling is the special allowance the film seems to make for a man who loves films. Another impostor might not receive such patience.

Sabzian later appeared as himself in documentaries including Close-Up Long Shot (1996). His reputation remained attached to the impersonation, with few further opportunities in film. It would be misleading to turn this into a story of steady development as an actor, when the work we return to depends so much on the circumstances that brought him before Kiarostami's camera. Start with Close-Up, and keep a little distance from his excuses even when the man has won your sympathy.