Michel-Ange

More than half a century before he wrote (in collaboration) and directed 'Il peccato', Andrey Konchalovskiy co-wrote another memorable film about another great Renaissance artist - Tarkovsky's 'Andrei Rubliov' (1966). A year before 'The Agony and the Ecstasy', the adaptation of Irving Stone's novel directed by Carol Reed, had been a great international success. Konchalovskiy's film begins with that moment in Michelangelo's life where 'The Agony and the Ecstasy' ends. Like his illustrious predecessors, the Russian director has created a meditation on the genius artist, his era and his relationship with the Divine. But his hero, even if he is in search of the sacred, appears many times in this film closer to the Devil. 'Il peccato' (distributed in the English-speaking market as 'Sin') suffered the fate of many films released on the threshold of the pandemic, having a limited theatrical release. My impression is that it deserved a better fate and that there is a good chance that this film will be rediscovered and appreciated at its true value in the future.

Art history considers that when he finished the sculpture of David and the fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo was considered 'The Divine', the greatest artist of his age, surpassing in talent and fame even his contemporaries Raphael and Leonardo. And yet, the script of Konchalovskiy's film presents us as a man torn by contradictions, with an enormous ego but also susceptible to criticism and gossip, receiving respectable fees and advances but just as easily squandering the money on the family or to buy the marble for future creations, leading an ascetic life together with two of his disciples of whom he demands absolute devotion but whom he constantly suspects of betrayal. Much of the story relates the master's confrontation with the 'Monster', a huge block of marble that he wishes to bring from Carrara to his workshop to transform into what will forever become the Pieta. The metaphor seems to combine the stories of Moby Dick with that of Werner Herzog's 'Fitzcarraldo'. We see how Konchalovskiy's Michelangelo looks in every form around for a source of inspiration. From the ephemeral he extracts the essence to represent the sacred. He has a vast culture, he appreciates his competitors at their fair value but would never tell it, he reads, Dante guides his steps in life and creation, but Bocaccio is no stranger to him either. He cannot avoid getting involved in the political conflicts of the time and especially in the one between the Medici and della Rovere houses who were fighting for the control of the papal seat and the entire peninsula. The two rival groups will not hesitate to use any means - money or blood - to enslave the great artist. Obstinately pursuing his goal, Michelangelo must fight for his art, lie, betray, hurt with or without intention those around him. But nothing matters to the artist who aspires to the sacred and who, in order to reach it, is ready to cross the abyss.

Konchalovskiy creates in 'Il peccato' a complex visual universe that absorbs us in the Rome and Florence of the early years of the 16th century. The meticulous documentation is evident in various details, from clothing and food to the decoration of the palaces and the tools of the artists of the era. The lead role is trusted to Alberto Testone, an actor I did not know, who has a striking physical resemblance to the artist we know from the portraits that have reached us, and who lives his character with intensity. The same can be said about the actors around him, many of them non-professionals. The film is a Russian-Italian co-production and the influence of both cinematographic schools is evident. The result is a meeting between the historical thoroughness and the artistic and religious fervor of 'Andrei Rubliov' and the natural and realistic acting style of the films of the masters of Italian neo-realism. However, everything bears the signature of the great director that is Konchalovskiy, including the feeling that we are permanently between two worlds.

Knowledge. Loyalty. Truthfulness. Guilt. Perseverance. Effort. Strength. Love. Spirituality. If you want to learn a thing or two about the above, it's a must to watch.

Instead of being 24 pictures per second, this movie is 24 paintings per second. Contrary to modern cinema camera is very still. Instead of boring, static actors, we have static frames with a lot of movement in them with perfect angles for every single shot. It was so full of atmosphere, 100% realism and natural sounds that I did not blink for two hours. But instead of being some fancy art film, it tells a story which is very passionate, moving, dynamic. The protagonist lives through heaven and hell in following hos passion and this is so natural and real, that combined with the perfect atmosphere and realism, it made me feel as if I was there with him. And I've seen quite a lot of movies and hard to impress. Every scene, every inch of the screen, every sound, every second has meaning. Even quiet, still shots are felt so heavy, that there is no doubt you would feel them too.

The feeling of the age is so true, everything is so analog. As if no computer was used in the making of this film. I can only imagine the tons of hard work put into it to create this realism. Now I want to see more of Konchalovsky!

Nice work with beautiful scenes recreating the atmosphere of those times perfectly well. Michaelangelo was a genius sculptor and each of his creations move the soul even of modern people, lots of whom have hardly any taste of art at all. This film is artistic enough, beautiful and talented, made by a very professional director of soviet school. Just the right background to tell a story of a genius. No soundtrack can also mean no noise pollution. I enjoyed everything about this movie

As a biopic about Michelangelo, it will most likely leave you with more questions about the man that you initially had. The narrative is very cryptic and revolves around him trying to balance his art around commissions and orders he has no hope of actually fulfilling.

Most of the movie is spent on "the monster," a marble block he considers more important than any of his responsibilities or desires. But when it comes down to actually watching the transportation, it is just an accident waiting to happen. You know that it's coming, and yet it is surprising nonetheless when it does.

The plot is stitched with bits and pieces of his life and relationships with multiple Popes he lived through. It only makes sense if you already know anything there is to know about his biography. The movie will not bother establishing differences between the pope factions or highlighting the significance of the events. You are on your own in this one.

His character also becomes more confusing as it goes along, his clear perfectionism and suspicion of everyone stem from vaguely alluded conspiracies around him that start and end abruptly, sometimes in the same scenes. His obsession with the monster and willingness to betray everyone and everything for it is captivating, however, his revelation at the end just seems way too nebulous for it to be understood by anyone except him, and maybe this is how it should be. The best aspect of Michelangelo that the movie so carefully and authentically portrays is that, despite looking like a local madman who has to beg on a street, he was never poor; his tight-fistedness is something of a legend in and of itself. Including a chest full of ducats under his bed that he just doesn't spend while living in what amounts to poverty.

Speaking of which, the mise-en-scene of the medieval cities is impeccable. It's one of those ultra-authentic dirty movies that doesn't resort to erasing color everywhere to show the dirt. No, everything can be vibrant while the roads are made of layers upon layers of mud. That's not a contradiction. Everyone is sweaty with their unwashed clothes full of holes and tears. All this only highlights the absolute beauty of his creations.