The Girl and the Artist

France in 1943: Near the Spanish border, the old sculptor Marc Cros (Jean Rochefort) lives with his wife Léa (Claudia Cardinale) in a small village. The artist completed his last sculpture a long time ago. Since then, he just doesn't want to succeed at anything. Two wars and advancing age have robbed the 80-year-old of the impartiality he needs for his work. But then the young Catalan Mercè (Aida Folch) shows up in the village. Fleeing Franco's troops, she needs a place to hide, which Léa offers her without hesitation. For in her husband's gaze, she has immediately recognized that Mercè could be the muse the old artist so desperately needs. If she is willing to model for him, she may live in his workshop. The unusual partnership of convenience between a woman at the beginning of her life and a man who sees his end approaching gradually transforms into a friendship that could change both of them permanently. In The Girl and the Artist, award-winning filmmaker Fernando Trueba addresses numerous significant themes in a very restrained, almost meditative way. In artful black-and-white images, the story grapples with life and death, youth and age, the necessity of art, and the search for beauty in a world dominated by cruelty. It is primarily the images that convey these themes. For long stretches, the film is very restrained in its use of dialogue. But there is no need for words when an expressive actor like Jean Rochefort carries the film. When the old artist despairs at his inability to capture in his sculpture the beauty that Mercès naked body exudes, his eyes say a lot more about this man's feelings than rambling dialogue could have. However, this form of staging also demands a certain amount of patience from the viewer time and again. Because as beautiful as the pictures are to look at, as fascinating alone the face of the great Jean Rochefort drawn by life is, real entertainment in the classical sense offers the film only marginally. There are always small moments that are rousing, moving, here and there even a little exciting or humorous. But for long stretches silence and a strongly reduced dramaturgy rule the action. And that's what you have to get into as a viewer in order to fully enjoy this drama. As with the sculpture that the artist creates in the course of the film, the full beauty of The Girl and the Artist himself is revealed only at the end, when the work has been viewed as a whole. When there is a chance to reflect on what has been seen and ponder the various details, then it becomes truly clear that Fernando Trueba has created far more than a series of artistically valuable paintings. He has dealt with very essential themes in them, leaving the analysis entirely up to the viewer. Nothing is talked down here and nothing is dealt with in an effortless manner. So the viewer can decide for himself whether he wants to enjoy the film as a purely visual work of art, or whether he wants to delve further into the underlying themes. Art lovers and all lovers of sophisticated, very quiet arthouse fare will definitely get their money's worth here, no matter which viewing method they may choose. And for that there is a very clear: Worth seeing!

Ein Artikel von Frankfurt-Tipp