At 221 minutes, this film pushes to the outer limits of its material and cinematic technique. Certainly the director's style is fresh and arresting, and the performances (if that's the right word for a 'fly-on-the-wall' directorial style), including the remarkable look-alike actor who plays Munch, are uniformly excellent. The art direction is also particularly impressive, evoking both late 19th century middle class and bohemian Europe with real pungency. The film concentrates on some of the main formative influences on Munch's art: his family relations, circle of friends and lovers. Munch's poor health as a child (you would never guess from this film that he actually lived to the age of 80) is given much prominence. The film, however, could not be described as a biography of the artist. It has nothing to say about his commercial success (which was not insignificant by 1897), what paintings he sold, how he supported himself, or anything about the second half of his life. For me, the last 30 minutes of the film seemed repetitive and, with the accumulation of repeated images and scenes, suffered from the law of diminishing returns. Perhaps the film's greatest strength is its exposition of the circumstances under which several key works in Munch's oeuvre were created. The depictions of the act of painting – often the weakest element in such biopics – are brilliantly handled by Watkins. Worth seeing. But worth owning?
