Vincent van Gogh has earned a reputation as simultaneously the most beloved (arguably) and most tragic figure in art history. And as such, he’s one of the most common artists to be depicted in media. He’s been the subject of a Golden Age Hollywood Kirk Douglas movie, a great Doctor Who episode, and an exquisite and revolutionary animated film just last year called Loving Vincent, composed entirely through paintings done in his style. At Eternity’s Gate is the latest attempt to tell his story, and more importantly, decipher his impression of the world, coloured and distorted through mental illness and depression. Director Julian Schnabel chose to do this by examining his life from the inside out, showing the audience as best as can be presumed, the way he saw the world.
Financially supported by his brother Theo (Rupert Friend), Vincent van Gogh (Willem Dafoe) sets up in the town of Arles in the south of France to paint. Passionate for his art, he spends his days painting landscapes and musing in nature, not really relating well to the locals. The film chronicles the stay of Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac) in the area and Vincent’s subsequent ear mutilation, to his internment at Saint-Remy and his last days.
This movie may well be the most intimate exploration of Vincent ever attempted. The camera frequently stays close to him, and allows us access to his specific perspective from time to time. Especially in the latter part of the film, we’re privy to seeing the world with the same blurred and inconsistent impressions as he does, though not to the point of the film becoming surreal. Pieces of conversation repeat and echo in his mind, usually the ones most troubling to his self-esteem, distracting from reality. Something may be happening or someone may be talking, but they’d be overwhelmed by these voices and Vincent’s unfocussed, distorted perception. It’s an incredibly visceral translation of what living with mental illness is like, a telling insight, and possibly the best encapsulation of the effects of depression on the mind since the “Stupid Piece of Sh*t” episode of BoJack Horseman.
But in addition to his demons, this film also recognizes the beauty Vincent has always been associated with, and that he saw in the world. There are a few long sequences of utter silence, but for the sounds of nature and the score (wonderful music by Tatiana Lisovskaya), as he makes his way to a spot to paint and just basks in the tranquility and solitude all around him; which makes it more annoying when on one such excursion a group of children stop by to bother him. The film was shot in the actual locations where Vincent lived and painted, and that authenticity does make the movie more powerful. Benoȋt Delhomme’s cinematography succeeds at capturing the sights that inspired Vincent so much, while he himself is shot in absolute grandeur.
Of course, Willem Dafoe does his part to imbue Vincent with his own passions, and despite being much older than Vincent was when he died, plays him with such brilliance and emotion it becomes completely irrelevant. Dafoe throws himself into Vincent’s tragedy, his desperation to be loved, and his almost religious contemplations on art, life, and the universe. There’s one scene, a theological conversation between him and a priest played by Mads Mikkelsen, that rings familiar to anyone who’s seen The Last Temptation of Christ, and not just because Dafoe is talking extensively about Jesus. He’s extremely honest and forthright, and sure of his beliefs. And Dafoe works tremendously within the aforementioned style the film is presented in. As to the cast around him, Friend is good and so is Isaac and Emmanuelle Seigner; Mathieu Amalric makes a brief appearance as Dr. Gachet, who tended to Vincent at Auvers-sur-Oise. Niels Arestrup has a cameo. All are eclipsed however by the script and Dafoe’s performance planting the attention squarely on Vincent as the only character to really matter.
A problem with the movie though is that it romanticizes Vincent a bit much as the man who suffered for his art and was convinced it was his only vocation. Perhaps because of the first person point of view, Vincent’s actions, ailments, and feelings are never objectively criticized in the movie; he’s mainly left as the genius unappreciated in his own time –something he literally seems to suggest periodically. At one point he even answers the question “are all artists mad?” with “only the good ones” – a sentiment the movie seems to believe. I understand the desire to go this route to some degree, especially given Schnabel’s background as an artist. But this is where Loving Vincent is ultimately the better film, as it acknowledges Vincent’s shortcomings and ignorance, understands that his mental illness and the pain he suffered through for his work isn’t itself something to be celebrated, and yet still beautifully paid tribute to his brilliance and the impact he left behind. It presents a much more complex portrait of the figure, and he was dead by the time that story began.
At Eternity’s Gate is a very unique film though, its presentation, atmosphere, and leading performance are all entirely stunning. Vincent van Gogh will no doubt be the subject of numerous films in the future as artistically experimental as this and Loving Vincent, and I look forward to them offering new takes on and challenging the ideas associated with one of the greatest painters to ever live.
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
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