“An inspired work, at once painful, poetic and poignant. » It is in these words that the journalist Odile Tremblay described, in 2008 in the pages of Duty, the film Seraphine by Martin Provost, who focused on the story of Séraphine de Senlis, a great self-taught painter, from a modest background.
Although he once again delivers a film imbued with delicacy and sublime on a visual level, the French filmmaker does not achieve the same state of grace with Bonnard, Pierre and Marthewhich retraces over half a century the life of the painter Pierre Bonnard, an important figure of post-impressionism.
As its title indicates, the feature film repeats a strong trend of the biographical film and focuses less on the artist and his work than on his relationship with the woman who stood behind him for almost fifty years , muse, model, support as an emotional trigger.
Fascinating and elusive, Maria Boursin, alias “Marthe”, exists first and foremost in the paintings and sketches of Pierre Bonnard – an iconic figure running through all of the intimate and luminous work of the “painter of happiness”.
Martin Provost therefore traces their existence from their meeting, in 1893, when a woman (Cécile de France) who says her name is Marthe de Méligny – a name invented to hide her modest origins – and who works in a flower shop artificial agrees point-blank to pose for a young painter (Vincent Macaigne) who is becoming more and more successful. Madly in love, the two lovers leave Paris to settle in a country house on the banks of the Seine, where happy days are initially only interrupted by a few visits from friends, such as Monet, Vuillard or the pianist Misia Sert (Anouk Grinberg).
As the years pass, Pierre Bonnard’s style becomes clearer and earns him unexpected recognition, which distances him further and further from his gentle self, consumed by jealousy and early aging caused by fragile health.
The director offers a nuanced score to this enigmatic, fiery and playful woman, who honors her passions as well as her anger, without managing to entirely extract her from her historical position as muse. Marthe is played with aplomb and sincerity by a Cécile de France who can playing all ages and all states of mind.
The rest of the scenario, however, often lacks depth, with its dialogues which stray little from the vaudeville-esque worries of everyday life – we think in particular of a meaningless argument between Marthe and Misia Sert half-immersed in a pond -, its passionate outbursts never contextualized and its secondary characters only touched upon, who lose credibility. It is even difficult to understand what unites the artist, portrayed in a very unfriendly manner, to his muse, since the latter’s relationship to his painting is only approached visually.
Bonnard, Pierre and Marthe However, it turns out to be a real feast for the eyes. Guillaume Schiffman’s photo direction, with its incandescent and luminous palette, echoes the compositions of Pierre Bonnard, capturing the contrasts between nature and the interior, multiplying frames and windows and capturing, in the bath, in front of the mirror or in the reads, the sensual and melancholy face of Marthe. A heartfelt ode to post-impressionism, which unfortunately lacks a little substance.