There aren’t many bigger names in the history of sculpture than Auguste Rodin, the French artist of the 19th century. Even if one isn’t directly familiar with him, it’s likely that looking at some of his sculptures — e.g., “The Kiss” or his massive “The Gates of Hell” — would ring some bells. Contrast that with the name and works of Camille Claudel. Half the age of Rodin, she was his pupil, assistant, lover, and muse; more importantly, she was an immensely gifted sculptor. But how many people have heard of her? Probably very few.
Camille Claudel, directed by Bruno Nuytten, seeks to change that. His absorbing 1988 film tells the story of the passionate and headstrong artist, who ended up in a mental asylum for the last thirty years of her life. It was artistic brilliance cut short. It was a human life quenched.
Nuytten’s nearly three-hour film — which stars Isabelle Adjani as Claudel, and Gérard Depardieu as Rodin — aims at a fairly comprehensive look at this talented and troubled artist. Her relationship with Rodin is front and center, but there’s a whole lot else going on in the film, including her status as a female artist in the 19th century, and her often fractious relationship with her family. Indeed, there are some excellent scenes between her and her brother Paul, a budding poet and frequent confidante to his sister, but also one who was instrumental in Camille’s decades-long confinement.
As tragic and deadening as the latter half of Camille’s life was, her early and middle years were filled with spark and unyielding determination. We see her hefting a heavy case of clay back to her studio, after being down in some sort of pit, fervently getting as much material as she can. We see her contend with her frosty mother, who finds her daughter’s ambitions ridiculous and inappropriate, describing her as an “insolent rebel” and “acting like a boy.” We see her in Rodin’s large and bustling studio, reflecting on her role as minor assistant to a famous sculptor, while having major aspirations of her own. In short, Camille Claudel never suffered for lack of passion.
Nonetheless, her disposition and the countless hours spent sculpting failed to gain her the results she wanted. Ultimately, eccentricity, drinking, and paranoia seeped into her life, utterly collapsing her potential. (Her three decades in an asylum is outside the scope of the film, but it’d be interesting to look into the kind of help she received — or did not receive — while confined.)
Viewers may find the reasons for her descent into madness somewhat murky. It’s obvious that Claudel’s relationship with Rodin was trying and volatile. Rodin had a life-long partner who he never could give up, much to the (understandable) ire of Claudel, who didn’t like being second fiddle — romantically or artistically. Their passionate relationship led to Claudel getting pregnant, and subsequently an abortion — facts unknown to Rodin, until Claudel reproaches him for not even noticing the curve of her belly, despite him seeing and feeling it while modeling for him.
All of the above is no recipe for a sane mind. (One also shouldn’t forget that Rodin was twice her age, and near the pinnacle of his success, gaining massive commissions and overseeing an impressively large crew. The power dynamics, then, were hardly equal.)
What’s not not particularly clear in the film, however, are details about the reception of Claudel’s work. This is no trivial matter, since there’s a slew of scenes showing her becoming increasingly frustrated with the level of her success. But was it her being a female which led to her sculptures not selling well? Was it her creating in a style that wasn’t in vogue? Did she turn down some offers that maybe she shouldn’t have? None of this seemed very clear.
But in a film as engrossing, visceral, and well-acted as this one, these weaknesses don’t drag it down. There’s too much on offer here. Nearly every scene is gripping, and there’s scarcely a single character, major or minor, that isn’t fun to watch on screen, and consider their influence on Camille’s life.
Isabelle Adjani’s stellar performance alone makes the film worth seeing. She’s mesmerizing to watch, whether she’s working in solitude, talking to her brother about Rimbaud, engaged in a shouting match with Rodin, or mentally deteriorating into a state of paranoia.
Not all of this is uplifting to watch, of course. Camille Claudel’s life, unfortunately, played out very tragically. It would be nice if her story could accurately be summed up with one or two impressive facts: That she was a very talented artist who had the mettle to pursue a male-dominated craft, in a century where women weren’t treated great in general. But it can’t be. From 1913 until her death in 1943, the once exuberantly passionate and creative artist withered away in a mental asylum.
Spectatio 