*** NO SPOILERS IN THE FIRST PART OF MY REVIEW ***
"The Fine Art of Love" looks like a film from the past, from the 20th century -- and that's a good thing. It is an example of masterful, unpretentious, adult filmmaking, so very different from the superhero-, action-, romantic-comedy- and art-house-trash that is flooding our cinemas nowadays.
Unlike "Innocence" (2004), Lucile Hadzihalilovic's fine adaptation of Wedekind's novel, that stayed quite close to the source material (failing only, obviously for budgetary reasons, in conveying Wedekind's spectacular closing sequence), "The Fine Art of Love" takes liberties, creating a new storyline, turning it into more of a horror story, but still based on the setting and atmosphere of the original novel.
Irvin's film moves at a steady pace, never hastening, never lingering, accompanied by a beautiful, never intrusive musical score. The cast is perfect, full of unforgettable faces and powerful performances (some commentator here complained about the dubbing; I didn't notice it at all; however I have to say that I come from Germany, where people are familiar with dubbing and it doesn't bother them as long as it is well done). The film looks great, as you would expect when you have Dante Ferretti in charge of production design.
*** SPOILERS START ***
The title sequence already sums up the film perfectly: We see two feet in ballet slippers, dancing en pointe, while blood from the tortured toes is slowly seeping through the shoes. Seeing it in close up, you can feel the pain, and you want it to stop, but it doesn't stop. You start to hate the music, the beautiful music: It's the same melody still, but it seems cynical now, sadistic. You want the pitiless music to stop, so the feet can stop dancing. But it doesn't stop, it goes on and on and on, while the blood keeps flowing...
That is how the story works: Something terrible happens, then another terrible thing happens, and you want it to stop, you desperately want someone to stand up and stop it, put an end to it. But who can do it? The few good men an women in the story (the kind young teacher, the idealistic police inspector, finally Hidalla the firestarter) don't stand a chance against the powerful forces of evil. When I saw the film for the first time, I found the ending to be one of the most devastating endings I have ever experienced in the cinema: When the flames started licking in the theatre, I felt so relieved, I thought "finally, the whole cursed place is going to be consumed" -- how big was my shock when I had to learn that it was not over yet.
You may see "The Fine Art of Love" (what a wonderfully cynical title for this story, by the way) as just an unusual horror film, taking advantage of the much-loved setting of a girl's boarding school. For me, it is much more: A desperate cry of disgust in the face of a world that is corrupt, built on lies and hypocrisy, where money and power are substitutes for love and life, where the spirits, and ultimately the lives, of the young are broken and destroyed. It is the world we still live in today.
"The Fine Art of Love" looks like a film from the past, from the 20th century -- and that's a good thing. It is an example of masterful, unpretentious, adult filmmaking, so very different from the superhero-, action-, romantic-comedy- and art-house-trash that is flooding our cinemas nowadays.
Unlike "Innocence" (2004), Lucile Hadzihalilovic's fine adaptation of Wedekind's novel, that stayed quite close to the source material (failing only, obviously for budgetary reasons, in conveying Wedekind's spectacular closing sequence), "The Fine Art of Love" takes liberties, creating a new storyline, turning it into more of a horror story, but still based on the setting and atmosphere of the original novel.
Irvin's film moves at a steady pace, never hastening, never lingering, accompanied by a beautiful, never intrusive musical score. The cast is perfect, full of unforgettable faces and powerful performances (some commentator here complained about the dubbing; I didn't notice it at all; however I have to say that I come from Germany, where people are familiar with dubbing and it doesn't bother them as long as it is well done). The film looks great, as you would expect when you have Dante Ferretti in charge of production design.
*** SPOILERS START ***
The title sequence already sums up the film perfectly: We see two feet in ballet slippers, dancing en pointe, while blood from the tortured toes is slowly seeping through the shoes. Seeing it in close up, you can feel the pain, and you want it to stop, but it doesn't stop. You start to hate the music, the beautiful music: It's the same melody still, but it seems cynical now, sadistic. You want the pitiless music to stop, so the feet can stop dancing. But it doesn't stop, it goes on and on and on, while the blood keeps flowing...
That is how the story works: Something terrible happens, then another terrible thing happens, and you want it to stop, you desperately want someone to stand up and stop it, put an end to it. But who can do it? The few good men an women in the story (the kind young teacher, the idealistic police inspector, finally Hidalla the firestarter) don't stand a chance against the powerful forces of evil. When I saw the film for the first time, I found the ending to be one of the most devastating endings I have ever experienced in the cinema: When the flames started licking in the theatre, I felt so relieved, I thought "finally, the whole cursed place is going to be consumed" -- how big was my shock when I had to learn that it was not over yet.
You may see "The Fine Art of Love" (what a wonderfully cynical title for this story, by the way) as just an unusual horror film, taking advantage of the much-loved setting of a girl's boarding school. For me, it is much more: A desperate cry of disgust in the face of a world that is corrupt, built on lies and hypocrisy, where money and power are substitutes for love and life, where the spirits, and ultimately the lives, of the young are broken and destroyed. It is the world we still live in today.