Modigliani directed by Mick Davis and starring Andy Garcia, 2005, color, English, 127 minutes

By Donald H. Harrison

The lengthy shots,  the colors, the play of light on different surfaces "Wow," said I, "it's as if they are recreating Impressionist paintings— but on film!"  My niece, Heather Zeiden, pondered for a second then smiled. "Well,  I wouldn't go that far," she said. She's the one in the family who is trained in art, so I will defer to her judgment. But, take it from me, this is a beautifully photographed movie. You could watch it without sound, and still enjoy it.  Mick Davis, director, and Emmanuel Kadosh, director of photography, have an eye for beauty, if not for drama. 

If you know nothing else about Amedeo Modigliani (Andy Garcia) you know that he's the artist whose models had long graceful necks.  His model, inspiration and lover was Jeanne Hébuterne (Elsa Zylberstein), who in turn was so thoroughly enraptured by Modigliani's talent and personal charm that she willingly gave up a comfortable but uninspired middle class life for an exciting but impoverished existence at his side.  They had a daughter together, and the movie comes into their life as her father (Jim Carter) snarls at her, "No one should see that bastard Jew child!"  Modigliani, a free spirit but ridden with tuberculosis, alcoholism and drug addiction, was not at all  intimidated by the petty bourgeois father.  In fact, he kisses him contemptuously on the mouth.. He and Jeanne soon conceive another child.

Modi (as his friends and lover call him) has a far more consuming rivalry with another luminary at the Salon des Artistes, over which the redoubtable Gertrude Stein (Miriam Margolyes) presides. It is Pablo Picasso (Omid Djalili), who in this movie is portrayed as a young, narcistic, bullying, yet incredibly talented man obsessed by his rivalry with Modigliani. The issue of who is the finer painter will be settled near the film's conclusion by the annual juried competition of Paris in which such other well-known early 20th century artists as Diego Rivera (Dan Astileanu) and Soutine (Stevan Rimkus) participate.  There is a telling exchange between the two rivals. Picasso inquires why Modigliani hates him so.  Modigliani responds he does not hate Picasso, he hates himself.  And why? We are left only to guess.

Critics hated this movie.  The plot seemed to reduce two of the greatest names in art to nothing more than teenagers battling over turf. What it was that the two men summoned from within themselves to paint so masterfully was beyond the scope of this movie, but it should not have been  The other flaw ironically may have been a by-product of  its strength.  Perhaps too often for action-addicted viewers, the pace of the movie slows to permit the photographic essays on beauty. It's as if the critics felt that looking at the paintings interrupted their tour through the museum. 

A lingering scene that I thoroughly enjoyed was an occasion when Picasso and Modigliani together visited a country estate to "meet God," in Picasso's description—the wizened, gnarled and very rich Auguste Renoir (Theodor Danetti), who is being fed porridge by an attendant.  Picasso asks Renoir how much the fabulous estate cost him.  "Two paintings, that's all," responds the master.  Modigliani stares at Renoir's deformed hands, which never will hold a brush again.  "The genius sucked out of the fingernails," says Renoir.