A gentle and fully realised poem that centres around the life of a french sculptor looking for inspiration during the Nazi occupation of France, and finds it with young-refugee Mercé, who agrees to model for him.
L'artiste et son modèle ticks all of its boxes. Gently meandering along until it's satisfying conclusion. You laugh along the way, you're introduced to new ideas and it's all very charming, but it's nothing challenging; it's just gentle and friendly which I can and will root for.
It toils in, and dances with integrity and honesty in one's work. Two themes that are developed so well, that I hung on to the sculptors every last word, completely absorbed with the progress of his work. The Rembrandt scene for example was superb; the aged sculptor begs his new, young and naive model to look at Art with focus and appreciation, leading to a wonderful interpretation of Rembrandts piece that, if I ever were to see it again, will forever be changed for me by this film.
However, what cements this film for me is perhaps what you may have already heard about: the black and white photography by Daniel Vilar. Believe the hype, it truly is something special. Wrapping Fernando Trueba's visual poem in always-interesting compositions, delicately lit interiors and gorgeously controlled exteriors, adding an entirely new depth to the film.
If you've read my other reviews you'll know I rarely mention cinematography as I don't care for it, or about it, but black and white has always been a soft spot of mine and this film revels in some of the most beautiful shots I've ever seen. I guarantee you could pause any frame of this film and you could see how meticulous photographing this film was.
I don't think a rating system works for this film, there's nothing you can give it without feeling like you're cheating it in some way, so hopefully the review can speak for itself. Watched on the BFI player website, with Mark Kermode's unursually hesitant Introduction.
L'artiste et son modèle ticks all of its boxes. Gently meandering along until it's satisfying conclusion. You laugh along the way, you're introduced to new ideas and it's all very charming, but it's nothing challenging; it's just gentle and friendly which I can and will root for.
It toils in, and dances with integrity and honesty in one's work. Two themes that are developed so well, that I hung on to the sculptors every last word, completely absorbed with the progress of his work. The Rembrandt scene for example was superb; the aged sculptor begs his new, young and naive model to look at Art with focus and appreciation, leading to a wonderful interpretation of Rembrandts piece that, if I ever were to see it again, will forever be changed for me by this film.
However, what cements this film for me is perhaps what you may have already heard about: the black and white photography by Daniel Vilar. Believe the hype, it truly is something special. Wrapping Fernando Trueba's visual poem in always-interesting compositions, delicately lit interiors and gorgeously controlled exteriors, adding an entirely new depth to the film.
If you've read my other reviews you'll know I rarely mention cinematography as I don't care for it, or about it, but black and white has always been a soft spot of mine and this film revels in some of the most beautiful shots I've ever seen. I guarantee you could pause any frame of this film and you could see how meticulous photographing this film was.
I don't think a rating system works for this film, there's nothing you can give it without feeling like you're cheating it in some way, so hopefully the review can speak for itself. Watched on the BFI player website, with Mark Kermode's unursually hesitant Introduction.
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