Camille Claudel 1915

"There is something sadder to lose than life – the reason for living." Paul Claudel, poet, playwright, diplomat and younger brother of Camille.

Camille Claudel 1915 is not The King of Hearts, a lyrical 1966 drama about a WWII French asylum in a town about to be invaded by Nazis. Claudel is decidedly not lyrical except for its exceptionally artistic cinematography dominated by trees that look like sculptures and buildings ancient with secrets.

It's a somber but fascinating three-day narrative about artist Camille Claudel's confinement in a madhouse while she is awaiting her famous mystic-poet brother, Paul, to visit her.

Previous to 1915, Camille had been the student and lover of Auguste Rodin, the most famous French sculptor of his time and one of the greatest in the history of civilization. Her incarceration was due to her paranoia in general about his alleged plot to poison her and her schizophrenia, both reflected after breaking up with Rodin in her smashing her sculptures in her own studio.

This film deals little with Rodin but much with her brother, who refused her entreaties, and those of the mental hospital staff, to release her. His chilling visitation to her is redolent of his reliance on a mystical relation with God and certainty that she not be released to go home. The introductory quote suggests he may not have adhered to his own philosophy by ignoring the signs that she was sane and the reality of denying her a reason to live.

This stark film concentrates mostly on her lonely struggle to protect herself from the plot to poison her and her loss of her sculptures and tools. Her artistry is supplanted by boiling potatoes and avoiding crazed fellow inmates. She says in one of her letters, "Madhouses are houses made on purpose to cause suffering….I cannot stand any longer the screams of these creatures." The movie is static but intensely suggestive through the brilliant Binoche's expressions of wisdom and isolation.

It's not hard to sympathize with an artist robbed of her livelihood and family. That she may truly be schizophrenic and paranoid is always possible; however Binoche's humanity tips the scale in favor of Camille's sanity and the world's indifference. As a woman and an artist in the shadow of Rodin, she is doomed to second-class citizenship.

Camille will spend almost three decades without hope: "Sadder than to lose one's possessions is to lose one's hope." Paul Claudel

I wanted to leave this screening about halfway through, but not because it was a terrible film. On the contrary, it was because Dumont's impeccably observed production evokes the same sense of claustrophobia experienced by its titular character, who is yearning for release from the asylum to which she had been committed by her family.

For most of the film's duration, neither Camille nor the audience are entirely clear about why she was incarcerated, or at least, why she remains so. What little back story we are given is relayed principally by Camille herself, and in a manner that suggests more eccentricity than madness. I had not read up on Claudel prior to seeing this film, but having done so since, I absolutely endorse Dumont's rendering.

The direction is unhurried and the dialogue minimal. Long takes abound, soundtracked by repetitive noises like echoing footsteps, the crunching of gravel, and, most disconcertingly, the infantile howling of the asylum's residents. The sense of place and aesthetic is intelligently realised, and for all its oppressive qualities, this film is a beautiful thing to look at.

As Camille, Binoche shines like the genuine star she is - a genius artist playing a genius artist. The occasional closeup (and there are many) may reveal a composure running one or two shades too deep for this character, however whenever our heroine cracks, Binoche exemplifies her mastery at bridling and channeling female psychology. The other figure in the narrative equation - Camille's brother Paul - is played by Vincent in turns both tender and oblique.

Thematically, Dumont does not preach, but tantalisingly throws juxtaposition after juxtaposition before us, inviting manifold readings.

Rather than write a critical analysis here, it will suffice to say that there is much to be gleaned from this film, notwithstanding biography.

8.5/10

Nominated for the Golden Bear at Berlin, Camille Claudel, 1915, the latest film by French auteur Bruno Dumont, is arguably his best realized and most accessible work since La Vie de Jesus and L'humanité in the late 1990s. Juliet Binoche delivers a masterful performance as sculptor and graphic artist Camille Claudel, mistress of Auguste Rodin, who was confined to an asylum at Montdevergues near Avignon in 1914 after an emotional collapse. Derived from Camille's medical records and private letters to her brother, poet and staunch Catholic Paul Claudel (Jean-Luc Vincent), the film takes place over a period of three days in the asylum where we experience the oppressive nature of Camille's routines, lightened only by the inmates attempt at performing the play Don Juan.

Although Dumont uses mentally-disabled patients and their nurses as actors, there is no hint of exploitation and they are only used to draw a sharp contrast between Camille and the seriously ill. Considered to be a great but unrecognized feminist artist (usually only discussed in relation to Rodin), Camille is filled with despair and depression at her confinement but looks forward with anticipation to the impending visit from Paul. Though much of the film has a strong impact, the sequences in which Camille pleads with her doctor (Robert Leroy) and with Paul for her release reach the heights of Dumont's consummate artistry.

In spite of the fact, however, that the head doctor feels she could be re-integrated into society, her mother and self-absorbed brother ignore her pleas and refuse to relinquish their tight control. Though Camille's paranoia is evident in these scenes (she insists on preparing her own food for fear of being poisoned), the power of Ms. Binoche's performance allows Camille's intelligence and true stature as an artist to shine through. Austere and unforgiving in the mold of Alain Cavalier's Therese, Camille Claudel, 1915 can be compared to the films of Robert Bresson in its long silences, spiritual depth, and uncompromising integrity. Viewing can be a harrowing and uncomfortable experience, but the same can also be said about many great works of art.

Bruno Dumont's "Camille Claudel 1915" is 2013's undiscovered masterpiece. The film is a perfect marriage of a director's austere vision and actress showcase with Juliette Binoche's raw, poetic portrayal of the great French sculptress, middle-aged and institutionalized in an asylum ran by nuns.

Paranoid over her once illicit relationship with famed sculpture Auguste Rodin (she insists she cook her own food out of fear of being poisoned), its painfully obvious that Claudel's shifty, manic (but still very conscious) mind has perhaps stymied her gift for good. In one remarkable scene, Camille picks up a patch of dirt with the thickness of clay, and hearing the birds chirp in a tree, she tries to sculpt a sparrow and the earth just slips through the cracks of her fingers. Binoche makes it heartbreaking.

Dumont has made his art-house rep blending the rigid formal constraints of his grand forefather Robert Bresson with elements of the French Extreme cinema that emerged in the late 90's. In his films like "29 Palms" and "Flanders", behavior, often savage, is there to be observed not explained, and psychology is to be revoked. In the end we have actions, not characters. Not true in "Camille Claudel 1915". Bresson is very much there, but there is a bit of a Bergman and a Dreyer influence as well in its seeming religious objectivity (Dumont proves an expert of the pained close-up). We become familiar with Camille's day to day existence on the inside and out, and sensitive toward those 'truly' mentally ill that surround her.

The compassion and care of the nuns in the asylum toward the inhabitants is contrary to the fundamentalist extremism of Camille's brother Paul, the man responsible for her imprisonment. The film's only shocking moment comes when he explains to the asylum's priest that he became a Christian after being inspired by the poetry of Rimbaud, as we know Rimbaud's life and art was far more blasphemous than Claudel's.

Although more accessible than his previous work, Dumont's film will bore many viewers. Nowhere is it entertaining in any traditional Americanized sense. But anyone whose already familiar with Dumont, anyone that's felt levitated by Dreyer, Bresson or Bergman, anyone whose been a fan of Binoche and her acting, will be moved by this film as I was.

Camille Claudel was a successful artist who had an affair with Rodin. She had mental health problems and was placed in an asylum by her family. Whether this was intended to resolve Camille's problem or remove Camille as a problem is left for debate.

The film tells the story of her life in the asylum, her desire to leave and her unhappiness. We gain an insight into the artist's mind and the world of the asylum. Juliet Binoche's acting is excellent and the use of patients and staff from an asylum works well although is potentially controversial.

However, the film is slow and is too long for the little is actually revealed in 95 minutes of screen time. More back story and context is needed to provide reasons for sympathising with the main character and sticking with the film.