Starring: Jacques Dutronc, Bernard Le Coq, Alexandra London, Gerard Sety, Corinne Bourdon
Director: Maurice Pialat
Producer: Daniel Toscer du Plantier
Screenplay: Maurice Pialat
Released by Sony Pictures Classics
French with English subtitles
Van Gogh recounts the last sixty days of the famous painter's life, focusing not only on Van Gogh himself (Jacques Dutronc), but the people around him, as well. Special care is taken to illustrate Van Gogh's relationships and mental state, as well as the events which led to his death.
I walked out of Van Gogh wondering where the rest of the movie was. At one-hundred fifty- seven minutes, some might argue that the film was long enough, but there are at least three key connecting scenes missing. Whether these were filmed and edited out, scripted but never filmed, or never written, I have no idea, but their absence gives Van Gogh an unfinished feel.
During the course of Van Gogh, there are several moments of rare and heartfelt power. While not the equal of Robert Altman's Vincent and Theo, Van Gogh presents a credible study of the final days of a great talent whose ability was ignored until after his death. By not making the mistake of Chaplin and seeking to chronicle the artist's entire life, the final product is neither rushed nor condensed.
The most credible relationship is that between Vincent and his model-turned-lover Margerite Gachet (Alexandra London). Although intelligent writing and adept directing play a part, the real strength of these scenes must be attributed to the performances of the actors. London's striking portrayal highlights a character who is given a too-limited treatment by the script.
The relationship between Vincent and his brother, Theo, could have been better developed. Some of their scenes don't work particularly well, and the inclusion of Theo's wife, Jo (Corinne Bourdon), in so many is difficult to fathom. Rather than defining the relationship of the two brothers, she dilutes it.
In any biography, the most difficult and the most important thing to convey is the motivation of the main character. Hoffa and Malcolm X succeeded at this; Chaplin did not. Van Gogh lies somewhere in between. While we are aware of the forces that drive the painter, the movie doesn't spend much time examining the manifestations of his inner demons. The final and most critical of those moments, when Vincent shoots himself, isn't even shown.
Ultimately, the biggest fault in Van Gogh is its pacing. Many of the scenes are engrossing, but the film is unable to sustain the momentum throughout. As a film biography, Van Gogh is insightful, but as a piece of entertainment, it is imperfect.
© 1993, 1996 James Berardinelli