There is a solid difference between artistic expression and reality. While artistic expression can imitate and recount reality, there is no necessity for it to be historically accurate. This difference between a film and an autobiography can be seen in Edouard Deluc’s recent biopic about Gauguin.
Going into this film, I had been told it was nothing like Gauguin’s life – it removes his colonialist views and moral corruption in order to depict the artist in a positive light, almost making him a martyr for his artistic cause. Indeed, by the end of the film that’s what Vincent Cassel delivers, a devastating reincarnation of a struggling artist who, like Van Gogh, was never acknowledged in his lifetime for his groundbreaking work in art. The film is premised on the fact that it takes liberties to produce a greater viewing experience. However, the criticisms are laid to rest through subtle references to such a life.
From Gauguin’s reaction to his wife’s pain to how he interacts with Tahitian natives, the negative aspects of his life are taken into account but are treated equally to other aspects of his life. It is these minute details in emotional expression that really delineated the film from its other contemporaries. Cassel and Tuhëi Adams (who portrays his love interest, Teruha) rarely communicate and when they do it is through facial grimaces that linger or Gauguin looking at an object for an extended period. The removal of conventional dialogue creates a chemistry that almost replicates the relationship of the Burnham’s of American Beauty, but to a far more composed extent, to expose the potential for subtlety opposing blatant exhibition.
The film itself develops upon this concept by isolating Gauguin, removing him from the grey and brown society he lives in and delivering him to a natural salvation characterised by bright hues of green, blue and teal. The film begins with the audience being introduced to the world of France, and the cinematography replicates the artworks of Toulouse Lautrec and Degas. A mist of cigarette smoke clouds the rooms and the darkness is lifted by a peppering of lights throughout the scenes giving the audience just enough light to see but not enough to understand. It is then that the story shifts as Gauguin travels to Tahiti, gradually gaining luminosity to the point where the saturation of colour emulates the works of Gauguin. There is a pivotal scene in which Tehrua is climbing on a branch wearing a red dress, creating a contrast that seems to strip itself from a Gauguin painting. These images are intertwined with the process of the creation of art, to create a parallel between the worlds of reality and art, which really drives home a message of creativity and uniqueness that is rarely seen in film or biopics.
To claim that Gauguin is the perfect film is obviously false when compared to other works. One of its greatest flaws, in my opinion, seems to be the film’s pacing. Similar to Nikita Mikhalov’s Oscar-winning drama Burnt By the Sun, it dwells in the beauty of nature and its contrast to the materialistic world which the audience is used to. It even goes as far as to create an uneasy tension that builds throughout the film like Burnt By the Sun, placing an emphasis on Gauguin’s relationship decomposing to the point of complete failure. Where Burnt By the Sun succeeded was its ending. Abrupt and quick-paced, it seemed like a fitting conclusion that appeases the journey the audience went through and delighted in the complete opposition to the rest of the film it created.
Gauguin takes a different approach; it leaves you wanting more. To put it bluntly, it reminded me of a horror film in which the villain twitches just as you thought he was dead; the problem never subsides, the conclusion creates more questions. While this works in films such as this year’s standout film Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, I felt like after such a buildup there was an anticlimactic resolution that responded to Vincent Cassel’s depiction of isolation but nothing more. It leaves a daunting question but one that could be interpreted in numerous ways.
The screening I saw was followed by a discussion with Dr. Bertrand Bourgeois. He began by condemning the film stating that if he had have known how unfaithful it was to his source material he would never have come. Now while I can’t disagree that there are fallacies in the historical accuracy of the film, what I can disagree with is that the one should not see this film. The movie is a work of art, not a visual reference piece, and ironically that seems to be the modus operandi of the film. There is a scene in which Gauguin critiques his pupil, stating one must be daring; and the question I pose is if everyone confined themselves to the rubrics of history where would be but stuck in a void incapable of artistic expression and originality?
Written by David Paicu (17), edited by Jim Poe (as part of the Film in Revolt writing mentorship program).
Gauguin is screening in the 2018 Alliance Francaise French Film Festival.