La Belle Noiseuse

A young artist and his girlfriend run into an aging master who has not painted for many years. It emerges that he stopped in the middle of a painting of his wife which threatened to destroy his marriage. Why this should be so is not at first clear. Over time, however, as the young artist's girlfriend poses for the older artist so that he can finish the painting, it becomes apparent quite how emotionally demanding the artistic process is.

Many people seem to find this film boring or pretentious. It's a matter of taste I guess. I found the long sections of the artist sketching his model extremely compelling. Even if you can't imagine this, give the film a try. I have a friend who hates arty films, particularly if they're in a foreign language. His favourite film is the Rock, yet he started watching this (with the sole aim of seeing Emmanuelle Beart in the buff, which she is for most of the movie) and ended up sitting through the whole four hours. It has a genuinely hypnotic quality.

Aside from the debate about the art sections of the film, its content is superb. The characters are real, interesting and beautifully played. The Beart character in particular is a wonderful depiction of someone who is deeply scarred, but erects a powerful veneer of independence to protect herself. As the artist sketches her from every angle, he gradually gets under her defences, until her entire personality is exposed on canvas. I know this sounds really pretentious, but this film effectively argues that what marks out a masterpiece is that someone's soul - either the artist's or the model's - is put on canvas, and in the process, they and the people close to them are affected irrevocably. Ultimately, the only real flaw in this film is, I'm informed, that the sketches themselves aren't actually that good. If you're like me and have a limited sensitivity to such things, this shouldn't bother you. If not, try not to let it spoil a beautiful, rewarding and profoundly satisfying movie.

In his four hour drama La Belle Noiseuse, French filmmaker Jacques Rivette has painted a haunting portrayal of an artist, a model, and the effects that a work can have on those involved. It is a brave piece of film-making, featuring physical and emotional openness. The film moves very slowly, but is very much worth watching. La Belle Noiseuse allows us to watch the creation of a piece of art and how it can change a person. This is a true accomplishment. The actors are all very much on key and, with no real script, provide real and believable dialogue. Rivette paints these characters in a very human way: it's easy to imagine these people existing. There are no movie tricks. It's a truly naked film in that it offers such an intimate look into the hearts of the main characters. Anytime a film can do this, you know it's something special.

La Belle Noiseuse revolves around two couples. Marianne and Nicolas are a young couple. Nicolas is an artist and has been invited to take a look at the studio of Frenhofer, a once revered and respected painter who has given up his art. While discussing a painting that Frenhofer never finished – the "La Belle Noiseuse" – Nicolas suggests that Frenhofer use Marianne as his model. Frenhofer agrees. However, Marianne is not very happy about this. She arrives at the studio very disheartened. As Frenhofer draws and paints her, the two of them get to know each other. Marianne's resentment falls away and she becomes more open with Frenhofer, doing as he says, asking him questions, posing how he'd like. Frenhofer wants to dig deeper. As a painter, he feels the need to really capture the essence of his model. His wife, Liz, was his last model. As a result of this need to dig deeper, he was forced to either give up painting or give up his wife. The film spends much of its four hour running time in the studio with Marianne and Frenhofer. Otherwise, there are scenes with Frenhofer and Liz, as well as with Liz and Nicolas, and Marianne and Nicolas, who are growing apart by the day.

For those who can endure the extreme running time, La Belle Noiseuse is a fascinating film to watch. The characters, as I said before, are very real. Much of the film features Marianne (played by the lovely Emmanuelle Beart) posing nude. It's a bold performance for the actress, who must bear her soul as well as her body in order for the performance to be effective. She is absolutely wonderful, as is Michel Piccoli as the bitter painter. The only problem I have with the film is not that it's so long, but that much of it focuses on the drawing. There are five and ten minute scenes where the audience watches Frenhofer sketch and paint. It's fascinating at first, but eventually becomes a bit tedious. This should not steer anyone away, though. Anyone who can appreciate slow moving character studies should be fine.

To sum up, I would recommend La Belle Noiseuse. However, a person should probably know what they are getting into prior to watching. The film is not for everyone. It takes patience to enjoy, but for those who can, it is very rewarding. Jacques Rivette is a truly revolutionary director. The other film I've seen from him, Celine and Julie Go Boating, is just as wonderful as La Belle Noiseuse, but is in a completely different universe. He is a very versatile, unique, and underrated director. La Belle Noiseuse shows this. It's a beautiful film.

9/10

Having seen "Va Savoir" recently prompted me to rent Jacques Rivette's 1990 "La Belle Noiseuse," a daunting runtime of 240 minutes (though I noticed it was only 3 hr. 48 mins.) It's well worth the time and experience. An experience in painting - nude figure drawing to be precise. But it's not a film merely about lessons in nude figure modeling from the beautiful Emmanuelle Béart, or meticulous details of an artist's painting process from veteran actor Michel Piccoli, there is a Rivette storyline depicting multiple relationships, himself literally painting us psychological pictures/sketches. He's truly the French filmic master of human predicaments between man and woman. Rivette has such visions, skillful techniques, and superb craft in telling his story with thoughtful details - never misses a beat.

The beginning scenes put us in a comfortable rural setting outside of Paris - beautiful open views of the village town, captures of the villa architectural interiors, and tastes of the lovely airy gardens and shady greens exterior. Yes, there are plenty of dialogs, but the inclusion of real-time ambient and environmental sounds made "La Belle Noiseuse" experience whole. It has the most wonderful ordinary sound of the studio door with latch creak opens and closes - it comes so naturally. There's the pen nib scratching against the sketchpad paper, the chalk against the surface of a canvas, even the quick ruffling of sheets when Béart the model swivel-turned in defiance - such detailed little sounds simply add to the flavor and tone of the story. We see two pairs of relationship and then some: between the mature and weathered pair of Edouard Frenhofer the painter and Liz his wife (who used to be his favorite model) portrayed by Michel Piccoli and Jane Birkin; the younger set Marianne and Nicolas, yet to absorb the trials and zest of life, portrayed by Emmanuelle Béart and David Bursztein; then the twists of the mercurial commercial-minded Balthazar Porbus, the unrelenting insistent Nicolas' sister Julienne, with gentle relieving pauses from young Magali, daughter of housekeeper Francoise, not to forget Justine the Cat.

Other then an Igor Stravinsky piece used for the beginning/ending credit roll, and Magali's brief morning ballet exercise, there's really no background music used. The occasional church bell rings, sounds of cicada and rustling leaves provided serene accents. Much is said in the unsaid, and the ending portion sure makes one wonder and prompts reflections. Rivette has a flair for unsuspecting ending drama, almost philosophical, or could it be renewed beginnings?

The paintings/drawings were from the hands of Bernard Dufour. Cinematography by William Lubtchansky, especially inside the studio, captured the critical chiaroscuro (light and shadows) of drawing/modeling sessions. Michel Piccoli is a regular in Luis Bunuel films; "Belle de Jour" 1967, with Catherine Deneuve is one example. Jane Birkin has such a gentle yet fortified disposition; she's in Bertrand Tavernier's "Daddy Nostalgia" 1990, opposite Dirk Bogarde. I really enjoy Emmanuelle Béart's performance in Claude Sautet's "Nelly et Monsieur Arnaud" 1995, with Michel Serrault, who was equally brilliant.

All I love about Rivette is in this film, and lots of it.

(1) The actors create 'souls', personalities and stratagems for their characters in collaboration with Laurent, Bonitzer and Rivette, instead of reciting cut and dried parts. Piccoli, Béart, Birkin and the others work little miracles all the time: their interactions feel shrewd, humane, intense, both mysterious where some background is yet missing to the viewer and utterly believable once it is revealed, without trace of the usual high-strung film acting centered on the single significant moment and rammed down the public's throat in so many contemporary movies.

(2) The setting, the Chateau d'Assas, is completely integrated into and driving the story, and is cleverly employed and fully respected in the mise èn scéne: it is not a quarry for illustrative backdrops and environments, but a real space conditioning the story just like the personalities involved.

(3) The mise èn scéne and cadrage always leave the necessary breathing space and time for story and personality development and interaction. Nothing is ever forced or abbreviated - and yes, this makes movies longer.

The 'plot' is typical for Rivette, as it contains a subtle fantastic element: here the idea, that a painter could find, sum up, condense and make visible the complete essence of a person in a painting. This fantasy lends urgency to the old dichotomies of life and art, of love and creativity. It is otherwise a mere pretext to set the story in motion and expose the characters. (In Balzac's 'Chef d-oeuvre inconnu', the attempt of Frenhofer to capture his model completely only led to a completely unreadable painting.)

The scenes where Marianne models for Frenhofer are to my knowledge unique in cinema. They represent transparently both the very subtle interaction between painter and model, and the genesis of the resulting sketch.

To show spontaneous sketching of highest quality, the hand of Bertrand Dufour was filmed while drawing/painting the posing Béart. Then Piccoli incorporated the gestures of the hand of Dufour into the scenes of Frenhofer and Marianne. Given the complexity and freedom in their interaction, the tension and homogeneity of the assembled scenes is quite a miracle.

No numerical vote, of course: one must never allow the quality of a piece of art to be in any way a subject to voting.

Lots of questions come up about this movie: First, when is a film/story worth spending four hours with. It would seem to me to be necessary that it is an outstanding film which this one isn't. Unless you are not familiar with the artistic process of life-drawing and could be fascinated with it as a spectator sport, then don't rent this movie, you will be bored to tears. I multi-tasked during most of it. I have been an artist and the studio is familiar to me but I wouldn't impose the practice of sketching a nude on anyone. Of course there is the prurient interests in looking for extended amounts of time at a beautiful woman naked and if that's your thing then you will be richly rewarded. Second, did the model get paid for her modeling or is this another movie about how we should all adore the artist so much that we give our time to him? I saw no money trading hands which would have raised the status of the model to some kind of equity. I might just me too American and too much of a feminist (I am male) but it seems that the French have this habit of adoring their women as long as they are attractive sex objects at the total disposal of male projects. That is what this movie is about. The two female characters are completely devoted to the rather pathetic artist. The movie was made in the nineties. Shame on you Rivette. But then you are one of the "New Wave" generation when women were treated repeatedly as sexual geegaws for the male protagonists, so perhaps we should forgive you. Thirdly, does anyone think his art was that good to deserve all this reverence? It seems pretty undergraduate life-drawing class quality to me. This is another thing about French culture - after they have gotten rid of God and the king the artist takes his place. In this movie the artist lives in the largest and imposing villa of the village. Are we to think that this man's talent has provided him with enough success that he can live like a king? Fourthly, are we to believe that the few conversations the artist has with his model has brought them both into some kind of personal transformation? I would need a lot more from them than what I saw on screen. We are to take the creative process of this man as so important that it is effecting all the characters (including a "sister" of the boyfriend who ends up at the villa for no apparent reason). To risk being called a franco-phobe (actually I love France and French Culture, but it does have certain qualities that distinguish it from, say, Swedish or Swiss or German), the French do seem to lean to the hysterical side of human functioning - like Liz (the artist's wife) telling the art dealer how she hated him and then calmly goes about the conversation, smiling and kissing him when he leaves. I found lots of emotion in this movie that wasn't carrying cognitive content - like we, as the viewers, are to think that emotion alone makes a film complex and deep. I'm sorry its just a little too much to take. The movie is beautifully filmed, as is the tradition of the French, but it's aspiration to depth doesn't quite work for me. And please, four hours!