Caravaggio

Quite simply unlike any other biographical film you will ever see, Derek Jarman's acclaimed production of Caravaggio (1986) is a lovingly constructed, highly personal cross-reference of tormented sixteenth century genius, twentieth century iconography and a somewhat satire on the shallowness of the burgeoning eighties' art scene of which Jarman was very much part of. Exploring Caravaggio's life through his work, the film distinctively merges fact, fiction, legend and imagination in a bold and confident approach that will probably leave serious art enthusiasts and casual viewers outraged by the complete disregard for accurate, historical storytelling.

Shot with a typically avant-garde approach, director/writer Jarman doesn't so much fashion a biography of the artist, but rather, creates a personal reflection of the man using intimate characteristics that appeal to his film-making sensibilities. This makes Caravaggio more of an interpretation of the filmmaker than the artist himself; somewhat self-indulgently focusing on Caravaggio's struggle with bisexuality, perfectionism and wanton obsession; perhaps even glossing over the more intricate workings of the character, for instance, his own passion for art and his battles with the various religious and creative constraints of the period.

It's a shame some of these ideas aren't further elaborated upon, because, at its heart, Caravaggio is really an exceptional film. As I commented earlier, it's perhaps unlike any other film you will ever see; an iconoclastic vision with a cinematic imagination that knows no bounds. Caravaggio is a film in which a 16th century setting gives way to the various anachronisms of passing trains, tuxedos, motorbikes, typewriters and chic nightclub settings. It is a film in which every frame is rendered in reference to the artist's work, composed with rich, shadowy colours that bring to mind the contrast between fresh and rotting fruit, and an unrivalled interplay between sound and production design that is reminiscent in its intense savagery of two dogs angrily ripping each other to pieces.

There is no other 'based on fact film' that has demonstrated such a wild and evocative recreation of real-life hysteria and events, with the possible exception of Peter Jackson's masterful Heavenly Creatures (1994) or even some of Jarman's subsequent projects like Edward II (1991) and Wittgenstein (1994). With a cast of now very well known faces, such as Nigel Terry, Sean Bean, Tilda Swinton, Michael Gough, Dexter Fletcher and Robbie Coltrane - not to mention some of the most beautiful photography ever committed to film - Caravaggio represents an impressive and enjoyable combination of art and cinema that is now, twenty years on, ripe for rediscovery.

Caravaggio (1986)

It's easy to be frustrated by movie that seems by its title to be one thing but is so clearly something else. This is no bio-pic of the great artist. It doesn't even create (to me) a more abstract sense of what it might have meant to be such an artist, or to be creative and tormented and a scrappy, sometimes ill man.

Instead it's a movie that uses some themes, and some paintings, of Caravaggio and builds a completely invented (to my knowledge) story line. For one thing, it's set in some fairly recent time--the 1920s or 30s, perhaps? And it's highly highly British, which is no flaw, but it feels part of a 1980s London underground in the expressions and vocabulary. If you can open up to all that, you've made a first step. If you can't, forget it. Run to another version (like the terrific new Italian one from 2007).

The second step is key, too, however, for many of you. This is an overtly homo-erotic, or at least homosexually charged fantasy. It has no overt sex (though there is lots of kissing all around) and it does includes some female actors (including a fabulous Tilda Swinton), but there are lots of "pretty boy" scenes and a sensibility that is just frankly different than the usual film world mainstream.

That's a great thing. That doesn't however make the movie completely work. It's worth watching if you are prepared for its tone, and it's brilliant in some sense, utterly original, a kind of high production value, high culture flip side to the films of Andy Warhol (if that makes any sense at all). There are excesses in violence, bloody, death, love, corporal pleasure and corporal torture--but these are exactly what the 1980s were all about. Think of Robert Mapplethorpe.

It's not my own world at all, but I found it a kind of thrill to see made so rich and colorful, so unexpected every turn. And so photographically beautiful. It is at times disturbing and moving, but mostly it is pretty and fascinating. It lacks a more usual structure, but you get used to that and learn to like it.

I tend to define myself as an artist and I consider my mind broad enough to welcome any artistic license coming from a director whom I also consider an artist... but when a historical biopic supposedly tells you the story of an artist of the caliber of Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio and by some burst of inspiration, the director Derek Jarman decides to insert anachronistic details that go from people wearing suits, tuxedos or sights as incongruous as a bike or a typewriter... I can help but feel a certain resistance to whatever should appeal to me at that moment. To put it simply, that turned me off.

We're speaking of a few random scenes that didn't affect the story in a way or another, and their needlessness made me even angrier... I know there's a way to interpret everything, maybe some iconoclastic approach to a man who himself was a revolutionary painter and initiator of the Baroque school, with its high contrast of lights and dark shadows and very expressive style, maybe it was Jarman's ambition to pay tribute to the painter and the project took him so long and underwent so many incidents he didn't care for realism, using the 'Italy of his memory' according to his photographer, but there are so many magnificent shots in the film that recreate the texture of the latest years of the Renaissance and even the color of the initial painting that my mind kept wondering Why? What was the purpose to all that?

Now, I've said it... and having said that, I can say that I enjoyed the look of the film and its recreation of some of Caravaggio's paintings, not that I could recall them all, in fact, I'm not familiar with his work but that didn't matter at all, any scene could have been painting material and last films to made me feel that were "Barry Lyndon" and "Cries and Whispers" (with its long contemplative monologues told in voice-over, the film did have a Bergmanian quality of its own). The use of contrast, the dust and even the dirt looked somewhat appealing creating a sort of shadowy texture that enriched the skin complexion, it's a marvel of recreation and the first twenty minutes had me literally hooked. The part with Dexter Fletcher playing young Caravaggio (the one who impersonated Bacchus in a famous painting) with the ambiguous strange relationship going with a Cardinal (Michael Gough) was my favorite.

The second part is more of a ptachwrok of scenes where it's difficult to keep a certain feeling of continuity but we get the attraction between the painter (now older, played by Nigel Terry) and two models (Sean Bean who's way too good looking not to be distracting ) and Tilda Swinton. The scenes works so well visually but the narration keeps us in the shadow, and maybe it betrays the fact that Jarman was so immersed in his character that he only left us a few breeches to wriggle through, as a character study, I didn't find the passionate artist or whatever wood made the fire of his creativity burn, the passion was there but it was diluted in that feeling of detachment, of randomness that made it very hard to follow... it's hard to make movies about painters, to understand their painting, you've got to see their vision, to hear their mind and I guess I simply couldn't connect myself and my mind was stubbornly sticking to these iconoclasts details that they gave me the feeling tat Jackman didn't care for authenticity, only for mood.

In my prime as a movie watcher, I would have given the film another 'chance' (or myself) but I don't think I would get it any better, anyway, it is a good film but looks more like an art-house for which the word 'pretentious' was invented, a picture meant for students, rather than a biopic for the average watcher. I didn't like the film for several reasons and perhaps the most vivid one is that it makes me feel like a conventional schmuck who can't enjoy art or understand it. I wouldn't call it pretentious but there's something rather vain in the way one appropriate himself a character and twists his life like that, even for the sake of art. Or maybe to use a hackneyed version, I didn't get it and now, I'm among the users who rated the film low enough to earn it a rating above 7...

Michelangelo Caravaggio was an important Italian painter who led a short, tumultuous life. He surrounded himself with earthy street people who became the models for his paintings.

If you're looking for a biopic about the life of Caravaggio, look elsewhere. This chaotic and bizarre interpretation of his life by avant-garde director Derek Jarman is like seeing art history on a bad acid trip. The story opens well enough around the year 1600, and I thought I was seeing things the first time I saw someone in a 20th century tuxedo. I scratched my head at the calculator, but the motorbike and truck were too much. The use of anachronistic images and odd sound effects (trains, crashing ocean waves) was too jarring and distracting for me. There is little dialogue and the narration was incomprehensible. As a fan of Caravaggio's work, I did enjoy the scenes that showed models posing for his famous paintings, but the rest - a montage of unrelated scenes showing his depraved lifestyle - was just distasteful and speculative. I learned nothing of the man and more about the director.

Tilda Swinton made a memorable screen debut in the puzzling role of a young street woman and a very young Sean Bean is interesting as her companion, but Nigel Terry was a confusing and off-putting Caravaggio. Not recommended.

Few moviegoers would know that the real Caravaggio was a convicted criminal and even by today's standards, a hell raiser. Rome's police records list fourteen citations in six years, from public nuisance to several violent assaults. In May of 1606 he murdered a friend, one Ranuccio Tomassoni in a sword fight. Added to these lurid details, his sexual interests show that he freely drifted from the Vatican's ordained model. This makes Caravaggio an interesting person, but a highly complex candidate for a biographic investigation on film.

While Derek Jarman's film captures (with delightful conceit) many of the surface details of Caravaggio's life, it's a work of startling genius because it succeeds on a far more profound level. Jarman tells the story of Caravaggio rather like Caravaggio would paint, infusing it (effortlessly) with the central themes of his life's deepest convictions, creating a portrait which reflects the subject and the artist with equal relevance. What's more, many of the same themes that have been identified with both artists - sexuality, transcendence, violence, censorship, politics (religious/sexual) and the tumultuous source of creative identity are present in both men. It works as very few films do. This is also an unusually accessible film for Derek Jarman. The performances are entertaining and it's filmed with astounding beauty and simplicity. This film is a masterpiece.

However, because of it's homosexual themes and personal tone, "Caravaggio" is likely to be appreciated only by those viewers who weary of film as simple diversion and long for something more challenging. This is a powerful artistic statement, but it flew under the radar during a decade of British film-making where "Gandhi", "Chariots of Fire" and "A Room With A View" represented the best of what was being made. While those films are great in their way, this film value is greater in terms of bravura and personal expression. See it if you can.