Blu-ray Review: La Belle Noiseuse (1991)

Now Available to Own  
   

Translated Title: The Beautiful Troublemaker

From Godard to Chabrol to Resnais, Demy, Rohmer and beyond, even though they were famously inspired by American filmmakers, as their varied output illustrates, the directors of the French New Wave were also regularly influenced by one another – not only during the movement's late '50s and '60s heyday but for the rest of their careers as well.

Thus similar to the way that the question posed by François Truffaut of whether art – or rather cinema – is "more important than life" fueled some of the filmmaker's strongest work, that very same query is at the forefront of La Belle Noiseuse, the 1991 Cannes Grand Prix winning feature from Truffaut's friend, fellow Cahiers du Cinema critic turned French New Wave co-founder Jacques Rivette.

A 238 minute exploration of an artist and his muse, the long takes and static shots of La Belle Noiseuse are a far cry from the average 12 second shots of 1961’s Paris Belongs to Us, the film that first put Rivette on the map which had been shot in 1958 and released after the early New Wave successes of Godard and Truffaut.

Teaming up once again with screenwriters Pascal Bonitzer and Christine Laurent (as well as longtime married collaborators – editor Nicole and cinematographer William Lubtchansky) to create what Roger Ebert described in his Great Movies 3 essay as “the best film I have ever seen about the physical creation of art,” Noiseuse is a work that Rivette had been building toward for decades.

Fittingly for a four hour film, La Belle Noiseuse is a very loose adaptation of Honoré de Balzac’s short story, The Unknown Masterpiece along with a trio of Henry James shorts including The Figure in the Carpet, The Liar, and The Aspen Papers.

But perhaps in an attempt to celebrate the interchangeable impact of all the arts, Rivette's opus also culls inspiration from the music of Igor Stravinsky which is used sparingly throughout his otherwise largely silent film – save for the sounds of art in progress which Noiseuse uses to loudly cacophonous, almost violent effect.

Deceptively simplistic, both stylistically as well as in its set-up, although the film consists of roughly six characters from start to finish, it primarily revolves around half that number of individuals.

Traveling the French countryside with her artist boyfriend, Nicolas (David Bursztein), we’re first introduced to the film’s muse Marianne (played by Tom Cruise’s first Mission: Impossible love interest, Emmanuel Béart).

Following a fun, flirtatious scene between the young lovers after Marianne playfully interrupts her boyfriend's art with the sounds of a Polaroid camera clicked from above, an art dealer friend (played by Gilles Arbona) drives down, eager to introduce the couple to Edouard and Liz Frenhofer (Michel Piccoli and Jane Birkin), a famous reclusive painter and his wife.

But upon their arrival at the artist's chateau in rural Languedoc-Roussillon, the trio initially find themselves stood up by the moody painter known as Frenhofer to everyone but his wife. Nearly playing an adult game of hide and seek, they wander through the art and literature filled rooms of the gorgeous household alongside his apologetic, friendly wife until at last Frenhofer simply appears.

Using the Hitchcockian trick of withholding an introduction or revelation until the last possible moment for maximum impact, both the artist's nonchalance as well as the length of time we've waited for his entrance goes a long way in making the viewer as curious about the man we're going to meet as the rest of the characters.

After an evening of not only talking about the masterpiece that’s always eluded him but also finding himself increasingly drawn to Marianne (which is wonderfully and subtly foreshadowed care of intriguing angles and frames by Rivette and the Lubtchanskys), the aging artist suddenly finds himself inspired to paint again after a dry spell of ten years.

Picking up on his cue, once the younger artist impulsively volunteers his girlfriend to pose for his idol, the deal is struck. And although it comes as a complete surprise to Marianne after she's informed of her boyfriend's promise once they return to their hotel, in spite of her anger she decides to keep up her end of the bargain, knowing full well she’ll be expected to pose nude.

Beginning their first session slowly by preparing his tools and the entire barn converted studio to get back into his artistic rhythm, Frenhofer treats his muse politely at first before he eventually stops seeing Marianne as a stranger let alone a woman but a body of textures and shapes – pushing and pulling her into poses that are increasingly impossible to hold.

It's here that Truffaut's question of cinema vs. life begins to reign supreme and even though Rivette is capturing it in a different art form, the relationship between Frenhofer and his muse could easily serve as a metaphor for directors and actresses as well, inspiring plenty of essays in the modern era of Me Too and Time's Up.

Following the evolution of his work from first sketch to final brushstroke (with the artist’s hand played by real abstract French painter Bernard Dufour), despite the fact that Béart is nude for extended periods of time, any expectation that Rivette’s film is going to take a titillating Lolita-like approach is fortunately pushed to the wayside early on.

Moreover as we see the two alternatively cajole, bully, inspire, and challenge each other through role and personality reversal over the course of three arduous days, it's clearer than ever that Noiseuse is aptly named.

Watching the progression from idea to canvas in real time is fascinating at first and even though it gets a little repetitive as the film continues, it’s amazing how well Rivette manages to hold us under his spell – delving into metaphors of artistic and personal sacrifice along with the holiness of “artist as creator” that is sure to lead to terrific post-film discussion.

Filled with layers, the film additionally toys with doubles, doppelgängers, and life do-overs, both in terms of the two male artists as well as the two women who look quite similar and play a much greater role in their lover’s work than that of a stereotypical muse.

Likewise, while Jane Birkin’s character contradicts herself a few times early on and is initially hard to read, she grows richer throughout to the point that although we wish she could've played a greater role in the storyline, in the end it's only fitting that once again Frenhofer's wife and former muse is sidelined by his artistic need.

A fascinating evolution of French New Wave filmmaking that's also reminiscent of Rohmer's '80s and '90s period in its conversational first hour, now more than 25 years later, Jacques Rivette’s Noiseuse masterpiece is made even more Belle thanks to this gorgeous 4k restoration captured on Blu-ray canvas in Cohen Film Collection's dual disc release.

Text ©2018, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique.

DVD Review: Every Picture Tells a Story (2003)

NEW:
Acorn Media & Athena Release
A Series of Titles That
Celebrate Lifelong Learning

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page





In Every Picture Tells a Story, filmmaker, writer, and long-time art critic for The Sunday Times Waldemar Januszczak takes great delight in donning multiple hats as a journalist, art critic and scholar, as well as amateur sleuth. He isn't out to solve a crime however and instead devotes his time to tracking down all of the interpretations, clues, historical notes, and deceptive touches included both in the canvases and in the academic world surrounding eight masterpieces.

Familiar to any art fan-- these succinct, easily approachable and highly engrossing explorations of some of the most immediately recognizable and oft-debated works from da Dinci's captivating Mona Lisa to the haunting mystery in Jan van Eyck's The Arnolfini Marriage-- will definitely captivate in this stunning collection.

Running just 187 minutes-- the set is far shorter and much less expensive than any art history course and comes with the added bonus of looking at glorious paintings in some of the world's most famous museums in a vicarious DVD version of a field trip rather than staring at a white board at a local continuing education center.

Additionally the slim-packaged 2-disc collection offers a beautiful full-color viewer's guide with more highlights. Filled with questions to help get you further inside the lessons or episodes (which I found of equal interest for reading both beforehand and after the show ended to think about the paintings in greater detail) and "other works featured" along with "avenues for further learning," the tiny booklet leads you to additional information via a featherweight companion in lieu of a textbook that could be used as a doorstop with a price-tag that's right in line with a brand new door.

Balancing out what could be in the hands of another some pretty dull topical material if spoken in a monotone or with an unquestioning, blind reverence for the masters-- instead and like a good critic-- our humorous host Januszczak has a great deal of fun questioning choices and ideas throughout, inspiring viewers not to fall into the trap of just saying "well, it's a masterpiece, of course it's good," without asking why since they've been repeatedly told that over the years.

Offering some fun tidbits about the painters that borders on gossip which is seasoned throughout along with all of the factual information to entertain-- we realize quickly from the start it's not like most yawn-inducing offerings when Januszczak mentions for example that talented artist and most likely complete cynic Thomas Gainsborough was only in it for the money.

Despising those who sat for him (and only thinking of the works in terms of how much he could profit from each gig), the remarkably fast painter's 1750 oil on canvas unfinished work Mr and Mrs Andrews opens the series. Most likely the artist's own judgment of "two aristocratic 18th century British landowners," who are seated way off to the left side of the painting (showing their wasted land on the right that they'd taken away from the commoners via Britain's newly passed "Enclosure Acts")-- it's a great introductory choice to open the set since it invites discussion from the start and builds one up for one of the most discussed works which closes the collection (and one in which I actually had to tackle explaining in grad school).

While it's suspected that the Andrews couple intentionally halted Gainsborough from more symbolic and critical inclusions which leaves it unfinished, it's strongly felt that the painter "may have intended to depict bird carcasses in the unfinished area in the lady's lap as a not-so-subtle comment on the couple's marriage and social position," making it yet another great reminder of the power of the artist to convey meanings below those simply on the surface, driving home the point of subtext in art with the utmost of clarity.

Moving onto Rembrandt's The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulip which you'll decidedly want to skip if you're preparing a meal or have recently eaten as our host takes a wicked delight in discussion the Renaissance's obsession with dissection and the anatomical theatres wherein people paid a great deal (especially in Holland) given their-- as Januszczak notes "passion for dismemberment," he continues to study one of Venice's most revered masters-- Giorgione via his Greek mythology inspired The Tempest.

Analyzing the display of gender in some of the classic works-- Januszczak explores Botticelli's celebration of a bride's fertility in a way that's supposed to make us sense her virginal modesty and shyness in The Birth of Venus to da Vinci's near femme fatale with his Mona Lisa whose bewitchingly mysterious smile captivated Napoleon to such an extent that it hung in his bedroom for awhile.

Further paintings of curiosity include Caravaggio's Boy Bitten by a Lizard regarding which Januszcack takes great pains in likening to the life lessons of the painter himself and warnings against hedonism as it intriguingly empathizes more with the lizard than the sensuous, pleasure-seeking boy in the eyes of some along with Edouard Manet's scandalous (and possibly even with a choice of being deliberately sacrilegious) painting Le Dejeuner sur l'herbe (a.k.a. Luncheon on the Grass).

Shockingly depicting some fully clothed men and an immodestly naked woman looking directly at the viewer as either a mockery of the old masters or an angry response painting to his father's alleged affair with a woman who would later become Edouard's wife-- while back in 1863 its brash boldness caused the "biggest scandal in the world of art" because of the nude woman's immodesty, the painting that stayed with me the most was the one we debated in grad school in the form of the final effort The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan van Eyck.

On the surface, a work that deceptively feels as though it's a mere piece of marital portraiture in the celebration of the union of a wealthy merchant family yet one that nonetheless manages to forgo the notion of a newlywed piece since the female appears extremely pregnant-- the painting is dripping with symbolism and a sense of melancholy. It's one that is also widely theorized as immortalizing the pregnant wife in a posthumous manner after she passed away during childbirth. Hauntingly beautiful yet eerie and ghost-like, van Eyck's painting makes an ideal final chapter to the informative and fascinating two disc set and makes us wish that the Athena Learning venture which had previously aired on Ovation Television would soon be followed with another installment to investigate more masterpieces.

Movie Review: Séraphine (2008)

Pre-Order the Blu-ray or DVD

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page





Now more than sixty years following her death in the Clermont-de-l'Oise psychiatric hospital, the paintings of Séraphine Louis a.k.a. Séraphine de Senlis are finally on display in galleries around the globe.

Yet when looking back on the life of the French maid turned painter in writer/director Martin Provost's seven-time Cesar award winning film Séraphine, I couldn't help but become overwhelmed by the amount of mystery and contradiction that pervaded throughout her time here on Earth.

Although the lives of artists are seldom happy (but then again as Tolstoy warns, "Happy families are all alike," and that certainly doesn't make for good cinema), startling mysteries as well as mental illness are a recurring theme of artistic biopics from Camille Claudel to Artemisia.

Therefore it's only fitting when Provost discusses his movie in the press notes created for the Music Box Films release, that he quotes Picasso's ominous yet accurate assertion that, "If I don't paint, I'll get sick, I'll die," that helps shed some light on one possible mystery in particular.



Puzzlingly however, is the fact that although Séraphine spent the last ten years of her life away from canvases and brushes while instead confined to a mental institution, Séraphine's first and indeed most enthusiastic and influential supporter-- Picasso's first buyer and Rousseau discoverer German collector Wilhelm Udhe (Ulrich Tukur)-- listed the death of the talented yet deeply troubled woman as 1934 in his autobiography instead of 1942.



Why he did so has always been something of a controversy but perhaps the answer can be found in something as straightforward and logical as those words of Picasso's. Simply put-- without a paintbrush, paints or the means to somehow creatively make sense of the visions and voices of those such as the guardian angel who told Séraphine that she needed to draw and later to paint-- the woman in fact was essentially as good as dead.

However this conclusion is only one possibility and furthermore, it's one that's discovered in the research as questions and answers aren't of the utmost importance to the filmmaker in Martin Provost's vague, airy, slow-moving, and rather contemplative film which is both Séraphine's hypnotic strength and its yawn-inducing weakness.



For, fitting to the "naive" or naturalistic style of Séraphine's artwork, Provost's film-- that's gorgeously lensed by cinematographer Laurent Brunet (AFC) and heightened by In the Mood for Love and Chungking Express composer Michael Galasso's original score-- dedicates itself to establishing the mood and setting for the artist's life, ultimately painting Séraphine via broad strokes and letting the actors do the rest.

And with this talented cast, it's definitely the right decision to make as it's led by Amelie actress Yolande Moreau as Séraphine and The Lives of Others' star Ulrich Tukur as Udhe and together they never make a false step.

However, it's in the surprisingly Cesar award winning screenplay which-- although comprised of any historical documentation that could be found regarding Séraphine's life-- wears on the patience of the viewer as the film meanders. Indeed, its major flaw is in the lack of focus right off the bat in taking a good thirty to forty-five minutes before we finally begin to grasp just who the two people are in the scheme of the art world.



In fact, it works better as a character study as the film develops and we become more acquainted with the strange relationship of the nearly destitute female maid whom Provost described as representing "at the time what was the lowest on the social ladder" and her foreign, gay, and lonely employer.

And sadly, although it's a lovely piece overall (despite the overly long 125 minute running time)-- and as a woman I feel we can never have too many films about female artists since there's too few as it is-- Provost ultimately bogs down the work with some overly symbolic, dull, and pretentious sequences early on in Séraphine.



And building off the plodding set up with the concluding act of the requisite scenes of hysteria that ultimately bookend the movie, I was left with a sense that I was no closer to understanding the artist or her work than I had been before the film began.

Additionally, this is coupled with the sense that ultimately we're faced with yet another movie about mystery and contradiction in the lives of artists as so many questions are raised in the movie that aren't answered. However, while this is fitting and inspiring not to draw a clear conclusion when faced with a few aspects of the individuals' lives, more often than not, it's frustrating that even the most basic ones take awhile to try and wrap your head around.

Yet, the question I was most troubled by when the picture ended was what the filmmaker's aim was in telling the anticlimactic story in the first place to perhaps see where it may have gone wrong. And this is especially worrisome because the harsh reality is that-- minus the press notes and more research-- I'm not sure I would've been able to connect the dots or understand what was deemed so significant about the storyline. For much like an artist without a brush or a canvas who has an incredible idea for a work but can't quite figure out just how to express it, I understood Provost's passion but overall felt that the film was missing a central dilemma other than just slowly watching Séraphine self-destruct.

DVD Review: Painted Lady (1997)

Brushes its Way From
Masterpiece Theatre To DVD
On 2/24/09

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page



Long before she was known as "The Queen"-- twice over (in The Queen and Elizabeth I) and aside from her recurring role in the critically lauded British import series Prime Suspect-- the blunt, attractive, and risk-taking Helen Mirren never shied away from daring work that showcased the inherently seductive sway she holds over men (a la The Thief, the Cook, His Wife, & Her Lover).

So while those who only know her as her royal highness may have a tough time seeing Mirren play a longer haired, sexy, nose-pierced, former junkie and Woodstock era rock sta--, she manages to disappear right into the role in Brideshead Revisited and Becoming Jane director Julian Jarrold's Masterpiece Theatre miniseries Painted Lady.

Upon first glance, it seems that Maggie Sheridan (Mirren) never moved past the free love and laid back lifestyle of her heyday as she works on new material with a much younger boy toy named Aiden (Karl Geary) in a rented guest house on a sprawling Irish country estate. However, when she hears a gunshot in the distance, Maggie rushes off to the main house to find the owner and father figure, Sir Charles Stafford murdered in what appears to be an art robbery gone terribly wrong as one of his paintings has been cut from the frame and removed.

Although she tells Detective Sergeant Fagan (Barry Barnes), "I make music, but I don't make a living," when he returns the next day for further inquiry, the audience has already ascertained that Maggie has a number of other skills hidden beneath her hippie exterior as she coolly took Charles Stafford's gun for her own and interrogated her boyfriend Aiden who fled on his motorcycle when the crime occurred.

Withholding details from the police and vowing to find out what really happened-- as a convict, Maggie Sheridan realizes she'd be unable to leave Ireland but our savvy heroine has kept a duplicate passport for years under her birth name which she uses to escape into London to visit her half-sister Susie (Lesley Manville).

An art expert who penned a book about Artemesia Gentileschi, Susie and her boyfriend Oliver (Michael Maloney as one of many men harboring a crush on Maggie) help Mirren's rock star pose as a wealthy and connected art dealer upon learning that not only was Stafford's missing painting possibly a Gentileschi but that the dangerous community of the seedy art underworld could somehow be involved.

Upon the realization that Stafford had recently taken out a large insurance policy on the paintings for the exact amount his troubled, off and on drug addicted son Sebastian (Iain Glen) owed to a deadly criminal, Maggie realizes she may be in slightly over her head as she and Sebastian find their lives at risk all in the name of art and money.

What starts as a straightforward robbery and homicide quickly gives way to a riveting mystery that-- true to form-- leads you down a number of possible paths involving a few shady characters before it throws you in another direction altogether from Prime Suspect 2 and veteran television screenwriter Allan Cubitt.

And although it takes a rather dark turn towards the end of the first part of the two episode miniseries--it nearly begs you to watch it as a marathon when one character's life hangs in the balance in a twisted scene that will have viewers looking away. Despite a few shocks here and there, it's an intelligent and high caliber mystery featuring a tremendous musical soundtrack (of what we assume are Maggie Sheridan's "songs") that stands out in my humble opinion as not only director Jarrold's most satisfying work thus far but a must-see for Mirren's fans who are only accustomed to her more recent royal work.

Although unrated, it's most likely the equivalent of a strong "PG-13" or light "R" due to some rather intense moments and sexual situations and Painted Lady-- which will hit shelves this coming Tuesday-- has been given an impressive digital transfer to DVD by Acorn Media and Granada International.



An acclaimed Masterpiece Theatre miniseries (which was shown both in 1998 and 2000 on PBS) that's been preserved in its 4:3 full screen aspect ratio with stereo surround and subtitles for the deaf or hearing impaired (or for fans who want to make sure they catch every word of the accented dialogue), Painted Lady which winds up at just around two hundred minutes on one beautifully packaged DVD also boasts a biography of the talented and diverse Mirren as well.

Helen Mirren

TV on DVD: Picturing the Presidents (2008)

A DVD You'll Want to Add
To Your Art Collection:

Take Home a Piece of History
On February 10, 2009

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page

"I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe the pictures are all I can feel."
-- From "Pictures of You"
By The Cure
(1990; Written by Robert Smith)

While most people depend upon first impressions when trying to decide just what they think of someone new, usually first impressions (which are often deceiving) get the chance for numerous new impressions as we encounter others again and again.

However, for a public figure or someone we do not know-- imagery is all powerful and perhaps most of all for the leaders of our free world since without the benefit of first impressions or firsthand accounts of the founding fathers, our first impression of men like George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, and John Tyler (just to name the initial presidents) depended solely on artistic presentation whether it was in painted portraiture, the scathing political cartoons of the past, or eventually in photography.

While James K. Polk was the first American president ever captured on camera, it was Abraham Lincoln who understood that to the national public-- image was indeed everything. This was similar to George Washington who decided-- in stark opposition to the stuffy European countries of his era which felt the new world of America was backward and unrefined--that it was therefore important to begin a legacy of presidential portraiture.

And in taking off on Washington's decision of its value, Lincoln carried it on considerably as the rather unattractive and rough presence of Lincoln-- including his famously unruly hair-- helped secure him the oath of office when photographer Matthew Brady snapped the most famous picture of the man, taking the time to make Lincoln look truly presidential.

The camera-- which changed everything-- offered citizens the chance to see from one piece of history to the next with unparalleled clarity the enormous toll the Civil War had on Lincoln as he looked as though he'd visibly aged so much throughout the photographs yet the art of oil painting and classical portraiture was not lost.

Although public relations savvy Andrew Jackson hired a spin doctor for two decades to maintain his popular image--understanding the way that portraiture could be used as propaganda to make one look larger than life-- the styles employed in this art form have changed over the course of the years.

This found John F. Kennedy opting for a more impressionistic look courtesy of Willem de Kooning whereas Lyndon Johnson decided that the entire process was unbearable sitting for just fifteen minutes before he fell asleep which resulted in the artist having to spend hundreds of hours working on the portrait from other source material only for Johnson to exclaim it was the "ugliest thing" he'd ever seen.

While political cartoons reigned supreme in the free land where one cannot be jailed for freedom of expression and it's the ultimate democracy of the country including its many, many voices (both professionally scholarly and amateur) included in this made-for-television Smithsonian Channel feature that makes this such a fascinating topic-- the DVD releasing on February 10 from Infinity Entertainment Group in order to be available for President's Day next week offers some extraordinary food for thought. It does this in questioning the way that image and art have shaped our views of the leaders who shaped our nation for more than two hundred years.

An ideal documentary for school libraries and classrooms and one that has an overlapping interest for those interested in not just American history but also artistic history, the seventy minute disc illuminates the collection of art which is housed and available on display 364 days every year at the Smithsonian Institution's National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C.

Additionally, it invites us into the debate of the way that the painterly impressions have seemed to transcend the canvas into our mindscape so as to think that the pictures and the men who came before us are one and the same when the truth is so much more complicated. Thus in the end, by looking so long at the pictures that seem real, one is torn between the fact and the fiction all captured either on camera, via pencil, or by brush.

Goya's Ghosts

Director:
Milos Forman

For his first film since 1999, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Amadeus director Milos Forman decided to tell a story about a period of time he felt hadn’t been given proper screen consideration—namely an inside look at 18th century Spain during the last part of the harrowing inquisition. For his structural link-pin, he and his auspicious French co-writer Jean-Claude Carriere whose filmography includes collaborations with auteurs such as Bunuel and Godard decided to focus on controversial painter Francisco Goya, who, a court painter when the film opens has a unique first person view of the goings-on. Swedish star Stellan Skarsgard portrays Goya as a blank canvas—unassuming, hard to read and mild—a man who just happens to be in the center of the drama when the lives of two individuals whose portraits he has painted intersect in shocking ways.

Cast for what according to IMDb Forman felt was her uncanny resemblance to the “Milkmaid of Bordeaux,” Natalie Portman stars as Goya’s lovely young muse Ines, the daughter of a wealthy family who is subjected to the horrors of the inquisition after she’s called to testify. Her crime isn’t her association with Goya, whom the church feels has displayed dangerous commentaries on the Catholic Church in his works, but rather what the inquisitors feel is her curious refusal to eat pork while dining with her brothers. While Ines explains that it’s simply a matter of preference and she doesn’t like the taste of the meat, the inquisitors feel that she may be truly masquerading as a Catholic who secretly adheres to Judaism and proceed to torture Ines until she signs a confession thrust in front of her.

Desperate to gain his daughter’s freedom, Ines’s father pleads Goya for help with introducing the family to Brother Lorenzo (Javier Bardem) who they feel will be able to secure her release. While 2007 found Bardem overshadowed by his other villainous role as the sociopath Anton in the Coens’ Cormac McCarthy adaptation No Country for Old Men, he turns in the best performance in Goya’s Ghosts as the cunningly devious Lorenzo who manipulates all he meets for his own gain.

Although IMDb noted that Forman chose not to film in Spanish since he doesn’t speak the language, the film’s anachronisms in language do take the viewer out of the piece as we’re confronted by the various accents from Bardem’s authentic Spanish to Skarsgard’s posh British meets Swedish tones and Portman along with Randy Quaid’s (who portrays King Carlos IV) American accents that make one wonder why Forman didn’t instead have the actors at least work on creating convincing accents for their roles. Further curious is the title of the piece and the erroneous idea that Goya is in fact the main character as viewers ultimately end up walking away from the film with the same amount of knowledge they had on the painter going in or as Los Angeles Times writer Carina Chocano wrote in her review, “The biggest ghost of the movie is Goya himself.”

Nominated for three Spanish Goyas, the film’s ultimate saving grace aside from terrific portrayals by Bardem and also Portman playing dual roles is the sumptuous period photography by Spanish cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe who has not only been tapped to shoot the upcoming adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road but also shot two of Spain’s biggest critical hits of the decade, The Sea Inside and Talk to Her.