I didn’t care much for Derek Jarman’s Caravaggio (1986). It’s another film about art and an artist, but it didn’t give me any reason or insight as to why Caravaggio, the renaissance painter, was compelled to create what he did in the way he did it. In the picture he simply paints because he is paid to do so and occasionally because he is attracted to one of his models, both female and male. Yes, the film has homosexual themes, but in general it paints a picture of both sex and love that is cold and selfish. Perhaps this is what Jarman intended, but the character’s themselves aren’t compelling enough to carry such a story.
This movie disregards everything I enjoyed about a film like La Belle Noiseuse (1991; #132), and it’s depiction of art as obsession and possession while embracing elements of both Satyricon (1969; #167) and The Color of Pomegranates (1968; #161) that confused and dismayed me. It’s a confusing narrative that assumes familiarity with the artist and a large canon of his work. While the scenes of the creation of this work have some compelling elements, they never add up to much. Sometimes they function as little more than patronizing foreplay for Caravaggio’s pleasure, but never the audience's. The film is notable for its cast. There’s early work here from Sean Bean and Tilda Swinton’s debut performance is a rare highlight. In fact, it’s one of the few performances in which I’ve seen her as the beauty that other critics often describe her as. Both of these supporting performances, as well as those of Robbie Coltrane, Dexter Fletcher, and Michael Gough (of Batman fame) however overshadow the work of lead Nigel Terry, whose Caravaggio isn’t so much flat as flat out uninteresting. I never for a second believed in or was compelled by his character, and without an intriguing title character you don’t have much of a movie.
This is a basic flaw of the film yes, but I can’t say it is what perturbed me most about this picture. It’s the second movie of my last four reviews that is described as “avant garde” by multiple online listings. The first was Michael Snow’s Wavelength (167; # 129) which, though slow and virtually plotless, did make an interesting point as a piece of experimental cinema. Thus it’s labeling as such. Here, Jarman earns the avant garde tag as a result of the film’s blatant and challenging anachronisms, including, but not limited to, the presence of typewriters, a pocket calculator, and even a motor vehicle in renaissance era Italy
You’ll note I’m sure the lack of plot points in this decidedly negative review. Suffice it to say that this movie was about as difficult to follow as anything by Andrei Tarkovsky, who died the year of its release. If you do decide to give Caravaggio your time, use it to appreciate the supporting work therein. You won’t find much else.
Language: English
Runtime: 90 Minutes
Available @ Netflix.com
Grade: .5 Hats Off
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