Savage Messiah

Ken Russell always has been a controversial film-maker, interesting and unique certainly but did have a tendency to resort to excess that could cheapen things. If we exclude his composer documentaries on Elgar, Delius and Debussy(wasn't crazy about the one on Richard Strauss), which are even better than any of his feature films, Savage Messiah is an underrated film. Maybe it could have had more time to breathe in places, while the deliberate pace was very effective there was a tendency to have a restless vibe, and more could have been done with Gaudier's war-time experiences, it was still affecting but compared to the love relationship it did seem on the brief side. However, it does rank alongside Women in Love, The Devils, The Music Lovers and Mahler as one of his better films(of his feature films the only one that I'm iffy about is Lisztomania). It is opulently and atmospherically filmed- if not as much as Valentino or The Music Lovers- and the production values are just as much and even more so. The classical music doesn't feel too much of a hodge-podge and is placed remarkably well, not feeling misplaced. Debussy is the most frequently used, and the impressionist style of his music is beautiful and powerful and judging from how many times his music has been used in his films Russell seems to think so as well. The script is dialogue-heavy and that it was very articulate and had genuine bite too is most admirable with a healthy balance of comedy and tragedy, while the story always engages and the platonic love relationship is told with emotion, while not exactly warm it's hardly hollow, and a sense of fun. Russell's direction is ideal for the subject matter and the story that's been told, like with Valentino for example you can tell he was having fun directing but he also does so with restraint, especially when being compared to Tommy or Lisztomania. There are some great touches here, those who say Helen Mirren's staircase scene is unforgettable are absolutely right, matching Leslie Caron's funeral scene entrance in Valentino in sensuality. The vegetable chopping scene is just as savage as the dialogue and you cannot fail to be moved by the final tragic 10 minutes. The performances while theatrical are fine, Scott Anthony does overact at times but carries the film excellently. Dorothy Tutin is superb as is Helen Mirren(one of those women who still does look amazing, always a standout at awards ceremonies). Overall, one of Russell's better films and deserving of more recognition, it is nice to see though that there are people who remember it very fondly. 8/10 Bethany Cox

I remember seeing this in theaters in the early seventies ( it never seems to be on television nor is it available on DVD). The two scenes I remember best were Dorothy Ttin savagely cutting up vegetables and Helen Mirren's Gosh Boyle descending the staircase nude in all her youthful and voluptuous glory. What a memorable moment. The rest of the film seemed to be about this modern sculptor/welder/whatever who had the typical artistic characteristics of ego and insensitivity. I remember that Helen Mirren's character was not exactly admirable but she was so stunning in that staircase scene that I did not care. Mirren has since ( and before in Age of Consent) done some great nude or semi-nude scenes but this is the one she will be remembered for.

It's about art and the love for art, but not artistically shot as other Russell films. On a scale from 1 to 10( Lisztomania being 10, the maximum Russell), this one is probably a 3. The two main characters has an unique and interesting relationship, but not amicable since they are both loud, rude and crazy. They are annoying and not very enjoyable to watch. For someone who lives in NYC, they do remind me of the frantic hipsters I see on the streets everyday... On a scale from 1 to 10( Women in Love being 10, the maximum enjoyable, for me anyways), this one is likely a 3 also. However after some research I found out that both of them have mental illness(No way!). I wish I knew that before so maybe I would have enjoyed the movie more? The lines are very good, values too(10 outta 10), if you love art you are bond to adore this movie, one way or another.

Ken Russell did it with Valentino, Tchaikovsky, Mahler, and Lizst. He made British movies of these non-British geniuses, biographical at the obvious level, with satire and pathos lurking beneath the obvious layer. "Savage messiah" is once again a biopic of an eccentric French sculptor Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, though not as famous as Russell's three musical composers or the ballet dancer he made films about, yet a gifted French genius (an outsider in British society) who finds a Polish spouse 20 years his senior in real life ("ugly", he calls her in the film), intelligent, creative and sensitive as the sculptor but disinterested in sex. Russell captures the rich world of artist's agents, the rich who frequent art galleries and museums, rich society's rules that give importance of tucking in shirt-tails while appreciating art in museums, the rich copying art and passing the results off as genuine works...

Russell's film captures the brave suffragettes (in the character of Gosh Boyle, played by the stunning young Dame Helen Mirren, who even appears nude) who are not averse to sex and nudity and contrasts them with the lead character of Sophie Brzeska (a charismatic portrayal by Dame Dorothy Tutin), who never takes off her clothes and is openly averse to sex.

The director makes the viewer virtually taste the cabbage in the soup made by the poor artists as the rich agent savors the bad concoction. That is an example of Russel at his best.

The film is a love story--an unusual one. There is sexual energy that exudes in the cutting of cabbages by Dame Dorothy that seems to have been copied decades later in the vegetable chopping by Cate Blanchett in the recent film "Bandits". The death of the artist is captured by still photographs of the World War and his spouse viewing his sculptures in a public gallery.

The film is a remarkable work of two great actors--Dame Dorothy Tutin and Dame Helen Mirren--honored by the British Queen much after the film was made.

Russell and set designer Derek Jarman dishes out a movie that may not be outstanding but worthy of note to any one who appreciates the genius among artists and what they have to battle against in the quest to state the truth and tear down pretensions in society. It is a tragic tale of a genius nipped in the bud. Only his spouse, herself a loser among "geniuses", seems to realize this.

Savage Messiah is not the easiest of Ken Russell's films. But it is for me the one that deserves our enduring respect as well as the most worthy of securing his place in film history. This is in no small part due to the very articulate script by the great Christopher Logue and glorious sets by Derek Jarman; as well as the impassioned performances of the three main characters. But it is to the director that goes credit for pulling together the artistic vision. We could point out many flaws from specific (more familiar) perspectives; yet the overall film succeeds so admirably in its primary thrust that many such 'criticisms' would be little more than evidence of the viewer missing the point.

The story is a loose biopic of Henri Gaudier, an important and exuberant artist of the early 20th century, who developed a rough-hewn style influencing 20th century modernist sculpture. He abandoned highly finished, polished styles of classical sculpture in favour of an art that is raw and passionate. An 18-year-old self-taught Parisian of great talent and rash, grandiose outbursts, he develops an intense but platonic relationship with Sophie Brzeksa, a cultured woman much older than himself. Their relationship is one of highly charged but unconsummated sexual attraction.

Moving to London, Henri takes his partner's last name. His fame increases as he forefronts Vorticism (which has similarities to Cubism and Futurism). But Gaudier's genius was only recognized after his death at the age of 24, falling in WWI, as a French Army hero twice promoted for bravery. In the film, Russell concentrates on the source of his creativity, his zeal to express his vision, the passionate rage that filled him. Brzeksa's antithesis – and in a way his 'second' muse – is the suffragette Gosh Boyle. Fiercely sexual in a very practical way, Boyle is almost (but not quite) Gaudier's 'Kundry.' While he is a very sexual young man, his art, and his passion for his art, fortunately always comes first. At one point when Brzeksa is refusing his advances, he demands of her five shillings for a whore. Although they are almost penniless, she gives it to him. He pays the whore and uses her to pose for life drawings. But Gosh Boyle is not simply a society siren. In a scene that burns itself on the brain, Helen Mirren, as Gosh, descends a staircase of magnificent Jarmanesque grandeur. It is quite simply perhaps the finest nude scene in film history. Mirren becomes the Greek goddess. Visually she epitomises the height of Greek art – that Gaudier nevertheless wishes to break away from. Sex with Brzeksa (if it ever happened) would be a bonding at the creative level. Sex with Gosh is simply two nice individuals sharing their sexual needs (with good taste).

Brzeksa is writing a book entitled, "Truth – a novel of the Spirit." Gaudier tells her, "You're a genius!" Adding, "I know that cos I'm a genius too." Early scenes have Gaudier publicly making fun of famous sculptures, grabbing stone breasts and so on, leaping around exhibits as if they are playthings, taunting museum security while delivering a tirade. "Art is sex and art is revolution!" Dialogue comes fast and furiously, debating art, the meaning of art, its value, creativity and the sources of creativity, whether art begets art and whether anything is truly original.

As a sculptor, Gaudier speaks of the stone 'leading the artist in.' But his passion for the work is like the fusion of hydrogen and oxygen, creativity exploding on the viewer with unstoppable force. He is the 'mad' artist whose madness rents the veil of the world. One night he captivates a dinner party and Bond Street gallery owner with his ideas. They excuse his atrocious table manners in the name of art, but insist he produce a torso that he has so eloquently described. He arranges an appointment with the upper-class potential buyer at 8am the next day, steals stone from a cemetery, and works feverishly all night to produce the bust. If artistic licence is used to portray 'facts,' it is done to convey the spirit.

A key to understanding the flamboyance of Russell is the work of Antonin Artaud, both his philosophy and his studies of film theory. Artaud sought a cinematic experience powerful enough to throw the viewer beyond their civilised self and rediscover their primitive instincts. Like Gaudier's denunciation of classical art, he rejected the polished result of mainstream cinema that, in many ways, tries to replicate reality or become a variation of the literary/theatrical experience. He also rejects the verité style that can be devoid of emotion. Artaud proposal is diametrically opposed to Brechtian distanciation. Artaud, who was a strong influence on Russell, was the opposite: he would seek to overpower the audience with sensory input and thence achieve a sort of trancelike state. His technique is often referred to as 'theatre of cruelty,' stripping away the veneer of civilization, disturbing audience by revealing the forces of nature. Russell's Gaudier also strips away rose-tinted social fallacies. "You know the public – if an artist isn't miserable, he's nothing!" He prophesises the effect of the war: "If the war comes it will kill the artists but not the dealers." The enthusiastically polemic tone can be tiring for the viewer. There are points where we want to sympathise with his critics and tell him to "shut up and grow up." We would like Russell to offer up Gaudier for our delectation in more traditional or intellectual style. But to do that would not only be untrue to Gaudier and the creative spirit described. It would be untrue to Russell.

This self-financed film was a commercial disaster for Russell. Yet he still describes it as his best film and the one for which he would most wish to be remembered. If that is to happen, it will, at some point, need to become more readily available.