If the term “arthouse” usually makes you cringe, or if you find it a bit challenging trying to keep up with subtitles on the big screen, you’d better stop reading this and see what else is playing this week. Certified Copy is one of those intellectual foreign films (gasp) where characters’ motives remain obscure, nothing actually happens, and they spew so much philosophy at the camera that you’ll be wiping it off your face once the credits start to roll. There’s really no plot to speak of – what we do get is an attractive female star, a suave male costar, and endless views of the seductive Tuscan countryside. Think Before Sunrise with more age, angst and aroma.

James Miller (opera singer William Shimell in his film debut) is a middle-aged English writer promoting his latest book in Italy. After delivering a talk on the concepts of reproduction and originality in art, he meets French admirer Elle, played by Juliette Binoche (Chocolat), in a frantic performance that earned her the Best Actress award at Cannes last year. They spend an afternoon together, first discussing fairly innocuous things like art and family, before Elle starts to launch an attack on her unsuspecting companion and on masculinity itself, accusing him of being selfish (which he obviously is) and irresponsible (which he protests he isn’t).

Already shrouded in mystery from the beginning, this is where things become rather convoluted. Didn’t these guys just meet each other? Or do they in fact share a turbulent history? Are they playing some kind of game with each other? If you don’t like having to figure this kind of stuff out when you watch a film, then the puzzle presented by Certified Copy may prove increasingly irritating. The implied revelations and central twist are somewhat abrupt in this otherwise subdued film, which is simultaneously intriguing and distracting. But if you manage to maintain interest you’ll have plenty to ponder, as the nature of the relationship between Elle and James is open to a range of interpretation – much like the issues they argue about throughout the film, without reaching an agreement on anything.

The dialogue in Certified Copy is a mixture of English and French, with some Italian, but it was written and directed by the celebrated Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami – Martin Scorsese has referred to him as representing “the highest level of artistry in cinema” – whose hypnotic, understated films include the masterpiece Taste of Cherry (1997). Viewers familiar with his work will know what to expect. This may be his most accessible film to date, although it still demands a certain level of engagement. If you find all this offputting in the end, take three stars off my rating, and just try to sit there quietly and enjoy the scenery or something.