Released in 1991, at the centenary of Vincent Van Gogh's death, Maurice Pialat's "Van Gogh" chronicles the final days of the legendary artist whose last stay in Auvers-sur-Oise inspired some of his most celebrated works. The film isn't much about the painting or the painter but a journey into the usual spectrum of human interactions: casual talk, mundane conversations, awkward moments and here and there some outbursts of passions and energy, especially with women, and the brother Theo (Bernard LeCoq).
One would look at Van Gogh's life with glasses tainted by the vivid colors of his celebrated paintings, anticipating lust, passion, furor and anger... but defeating all expectations, Maurice Pialat's "Van Gogh" is a rather quiet film, one of simple warmth embedded in profound melancholy. Jacques Dutronc never leaves you the impression that he's playing Van Gogh, with his sad and worn-down eyes, you barely notice their beautiful blue. Even in his most joyful or tempestuous moments, his eyes look exhausted. It's just as if the pop culture Van Gogh we "knew": the man in love, the self-doubting artist, Gauguin's friend and the ear-cutting madman where all contained in the frozen ocean of his silent stares. This Van Gogh is a moody fellow and it's up to the lively population around: luggage carriers, inn-keepers, maids or prostitutes to 'cheer him' up.
I must say I thoroughly enjoyed Pialat's "Van Gogh". And for one reason, Pialat never felt inclined to tell a story about Van Gogh but of a man with both talent and demons, like anyone else, like Pialat himself, maybe. Vincent is a man who was so focused on the quest of a lost genius in his art that he somehow lost the ability to look at the genuine simplicity of life. And he was so demanding of himself that he could never satisfy, let alone like himself. He wasn't incapable to love a woman but being loved for his talent or his peculiarity as an artist would be like tricking himself into self-appreciation, a reconciliation by proxy... one can't just be cured easily from the imposter syndrome.
But don't take my word for it, this is only my take on Dutronc's performance. The singer-turned-actor won a César for the role and he doesn't play it with the self-awareness of the actor forced to channel standard emotions but by distancing himself from the easy way and paradoxically from the artist himself. On a simple level, it's easy to guess that neither Vincent, nor Theo, could speak French as fluently delivered by two French actors. The suspension of disbelief is all granted because Pialat recreates such a natural and historically accurate microcosm of French society in the late 19th century, we believe this could be Van Gogh. Sometimes, the further you get from a model, the closer.
And at some point, Vincent stops being the main focus and becomes the sponge that absorbs all the liquefied emotions of people around him... the more distant or reluctant to share his feelings he is, the more efforts people pull in order to reach him (including Theo). Doctor and art collector Gachet (remarkably played by Gérard Sety) uses amiability and friendliness, his daughter Marguerite (Alexandra London) is not indifferent and her charm is so natural that any recipient of a cordial smile would take it as seduction, but maybe she is attracted to Vincent. Finally, Theo can be diplomatic and tactful but doesn't mince words when the situation calls for a harsher tone.
I don't think Pialat ever intended to solve a riddle about Van Gogh rather than paint in his own way the tumultuous mind of a man so focused on his visions, doubts and (paradoxically) certitudes that he confined himself into a room that could only be opened from the outside. As gentle as he was, Gachet didn't have the key and in one memorable scene, he keeps on praising an an item that is not even a painting. Vincent smile and Gachet admits that he was being hypocrite. While the scene is played for laughs, who knows if it didn't break a parcel of Vincent's self-esteem. Sometimes Marguerite seems to have a connection with him, as she's also suffocated by the corset of social conventions (like her mother) but it is possible that Vincent only gets from her what any woman can give him, like Cathy the prostitute played by Elza Zylberstein...all the 'joie de vivre' in the world can't cure a man in quest for a meaning to his life.
Le Coq delivers an interesting performance as the sane brother who yet has been infected by that very lust for life from his brother and is incapable to dissociate his own being from his brother's state. He embodies what's so fascinating about Pialat's Van Gogh, he's not the passionate one but the one everyone's passionate about. And what we've got is a vision of an auteur who finds a certain sympathy to ambivalent people, unpredictable, whose conduct never follows a particular pattern. Such people who stand out from the crowd aren't necessarily extraordinary but they have the merit to guide ordinary people into new horizons, discovering many things about the world or a few about themselves, which is almost the world.
This Pialat's Van Gogh could have been a Rodin's thinker as well, but Pialat provides him flesh, a soul, a spirit and that little lust for life that allowed such great moments as the alfresco lunch where he and his brother impersonate Toulouse Lautrec (that whole sequence is one of the best and jolliest moments from any French film). Special mention to that brother party that ends with everyone impersonating a miliary march and walking hand-in-hand before chaos takes backs its rights through a frenetic Can Can.
Ambivalence again is the key word for that surrealist scene has the ominous resonance of a last surge before death... the only historical fact Pialat couldn't revise.
One would look at Van Gogh's life with glasses tainted by the vivid colors of his celebrated paintings, anticipating lust, passion, furor and anger... but defeating all expectations, Maurice Pialat's "Van Gogh" is a rather quiet film, one of simple warmth embedded in profound melancholy. Jacques Dutronc never leaves you the impression that he's playing Van Gogh, with his sad and worn-down eyes, you barely notice their beautiful blue. Even in his most joyful or tempestuous moments, his eyes look exhausted. It's just as if the pop culture Van Gogh we "knew": the man in love, the self-doubting artist, Gauguin's friend and the ear-cutting madman where all contained in the frozen ocean of his silent stares. This Van Gogh is a moody fellow and it's up to the lively population around: luggage carriers, inn-keepers, maids or prostitutes to 'cheer him' up.
I must say I thoroughly enjoyed Pialat's "Van Gogh". And for one reason, Pialat never felt inclined to tell a story about Van Gogh but of a man with both talent and demons, like anyone else, like Pialat himself, maybe. Vincent is a man who was so focused on the quest of a lost genius in his art that he somehow lost the ability to look at the genuine simplicity of life. And he was so demanding of himself that he could never satisfy, let alone like himself. He wasn't incapable to love a woman but being loved for his talent or his peculiarity as an artist would be like tricking himself into self-appreciation, a reconciliation by proxy... one can't just be cured easily from the imposter syndrome.
But don't take my word for it, this is only my take on Dutronc's performance. The singer-turned-actor won a César for the role and he doesn't play it with the self-awareness of the actor forced to channel standard emotions but by distancing himself from the easy way and paradoxically from the artist himself. On a simple level, it's easy to guess that neither Vincent, nor Theo, could speak French as fluently delivered by two French actors. The suspension of disbelief is all granted because Pialat recreates such a natural and historically accurate microcosm of French society in the late 19th century, we believe this could be Van Gogh. Sometimes, the further you get from a model, the closer.
And at some point, Vincent stops being the main focus and becomes the sponge that absorbs all the liquefied emotions of people around him... the more distant or reluctant to share his feelings he is, the more efforts people pull in order to reach him (including Theo). Doctor and art collector Gachet (remarkably played by Gérard Sety) uses amiability and friendliness, his daughter Marguerite (Alexandra London) is not indifferent and her charm is so natural that any recipient of a cordial smile would take it as seduction, but maybe she is attracted to Vincent. Finally, Theo can be diplomatic and tactful but doesn't mince words when the situation calls for a harsher tone.
I don't think Pialat ever intended to solve a riddle about Van Gogh rather than paint in his own way the tumultuous mind of a man so focused on his visions, doubts and (paradoxically) certitudes that he confined himself into a room that could only be opened from the outside. As gentle as he was, Gachet didn't have the key and in one memorable scene, he keeps on praising an an item that is not even a painting. Vincent smile and Gachet admits that he was being hypocrite. While the scene is played for laughs, who knows if it didn't break a parcel of Vincent's self-esteem. Sometimes Marguerite seems to have a connection with him, as she's also suffocated by the corset of social conventions (like her mother) but it is possible that Vincent only gets from her what any woman can give him, like Cathy the prostitute played by Elza Zylberstein...all the 'joie de vivre' in the world can't cure a man in quest for a meaning to his life.
Le Coq delivers an interesting performance as the sane brother who yet has been infected by that very lust for life from his brother and is incapable to dissociate his own being from his brother's state. He embodies what's so fascinating about Pialat's Van Gogh, he's not the passionate one but the one everyone's passionate about. And what we've got is a vision of an auteur who finds a certain sympathy to ambivalent people, unpredictable, whose conduct never follows a particular pattern. Such people who stand out from the crowd aren't necessarily extraordinary but they have the merit to guide ordinary people into new horizons, discovering many things about the world or a few about themselves, which is almost the world.
This Pialat's Van Gogh could have been a Rodin's thinker as well, but Pialat provides him flesh, a soul, a spirit and that little lust for life that allowed such great moments as the alfresco lunch where he and his brother impersonate Toulouse Lautrec (that whole sequence is one of the best and jolliest moments from any French film). Special mention to that brother party that ends with everyone impersonating a miliary march and walking hand-in-hand before chaos takes backs its rights through a frenetic Can Can.
Ambivalence again is the key word for that surrealist scene has the ominous resonance of a last surge before death... the only historical fact Pialat couldn't revise.