The screenplay is at times good, the sets and costumes passable, the story is good and nearer to the truth than most biopics -it even attempts to wove social and philosophical themes into the life of a gifted artist and his relationship with the man who admired him but could not become him.
But, the photography is standard fare -as if it were made for television. The cinematographer fails miserably to grasp the opportunity afforded by telling the life of a painter in authoring with light and shadow and colors. It seems they did nothing but use textbook light and print what was in the camera without any of the care that makes Spielberg's cinematographers worth applauding.
The direction is honest but it falls into the trap of directing actors in what to do and how to do it, instead of allowing them to breathe their own life into the film, for themselves. The actors, most of the time are the slaves of the cinematographer as puppets in ever-changing dramatic photographs.
Nick Ashdon portrayed the main character as well as he was allowed by a limp and insecure director -unfortunately watching Nick Ashdon as El Greco was an exercise in trying to remember that I was not watching Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare in Love.
Juan Diego Botto as Niño de Guevara must have, in rehearsals, given director Smaragdis an expression from a certain camera angle that the director liked a lot, so he must have asked Botto to keep repeating it throughout the movie.
There are some really bizarre moments of editing that make you wonder whether the director was interfering in the editor's work without the skill to do so, or whether the editor sneaked-in a few cuts that the director missed before the release. Then again they might have both been trying to make a dramatic statement but the efforts bore no fruit.
This film is a genuinely honest effort by a genuine Greek director and crew to make a labor of love in telling the story and the soul of a great man. I urge you to watch it with this in mind. Because otherwise you will watch a film where the director, despite his passion, just didn't have what it takes.
But, the photography is standard fare -as if it were made for television. The cinematographer fails miserably to grasp the opportunity afforded by telling the life of a painter in authoring with light and shadow and colors. It seems they did nothing but use textbook light and print what was in the camera without any of the care that makes Spielberg's cinematographers worth applauding.
The direction is honest but it falls into the trap of directing actors in what to do and how to do it, instead of allowing them to breathe their own life into the film, for themselves. The actors, most of the time are the slaves of the cinematographer as puppets in ever-changing dramatic photographs.
Nick Ashdon portrayed the main character as well as he was allowed by a limp and insecure director -unfortunately watching Nick Ashdon as El Greco was an exercise in trying to remember that I was not watching Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare in Love.
Juan Diego Botto as Niño de Guevara must have, in rehearsals, given director Smaragdis an expression from a certain camera angle that the director liked a lot, so he must have asked Botto to keep repeating it throughout the movie.
There are some really bizarre moments of editing that make you wonder whether the director was interfering in the editor's work without the skill to do so, or whether the editor sneaked-in a few cuts that the director missed before the release. Then again they might have both been trying to make a dramatic statement but the efforts bore no fruit.
This film is a genuinely honest effort by a genuine Greek director and crew to make a labor of love in telling the story and the soul of a great man. I urge you to watch it with this in mind. Because otherwise you will watch a film where the director, despite his passion, just didn't have what it takes.