Camille Claudel 1915

"There is something sadder to lose than life – the reason for living." Paul Claudel, poet, playwright, diplomat and younger brother of Camille.

Camille Claudel 1915 is not The King of Hearts, a lyrical 1966 drama about a WWII French asylum in a town about to be invaded by Nazis. Claudel is decidedly not lyrical except for its exceptionally artistic cinematography dominated by trees that look like sculptures and buildings ancient with secrets.

It's a somber but fascinating three-day narrative about artist Camille Claudel's confinement in a madhouse while she is awaiting her famous mystic-poet brother, Paul, to visit her.

Previous to 1915, Camille had been the student and lover of Auguste Rodin, the most famous French sculptor of his time and one of the greatest in the history of civilization. Her incarceration was due to her paranoia in general about his alleged plot to poison her and her schizophrenia, both reflected after breaking up with Rodin in her smashing her sculptures in her own studio.

This film deals little with Rodin but much with her brother, who refused her entreaties, and those of the mental hospital staff, to release her. His chilling visitation to her is redolent of his reliance on a mystical relation with God and certainty that she not be released to go home. The introductory quote suggests he may not have adhered to his own philosophy by ignoring the signs that she was sane and the reality of denying her a reason to live.

This stark film concentrates mostly on her lonely struggle to protect herself from the plot to poison her and her loss of her sculptures and tools. Her artistry is supplanted by boiling potatoes and avoiding crazed fellow inmates. She says in one of her letters, "Madhouses are houses made on purpose to cause suffering….I cannot stand any longer the screams of these creatures." The movie is static but intensely suggestive through the brilliant Binoche's expressions of wisdom and isolation.

It's not hard to sympathize with an artist robbed of her livelihood and family. That she may truly be schizophrenic and paranoid is always possible; however Binoche's humanity tips the scale in favor of Camille's sanity and the world's indifference. As a woman and an artist in the shadow of Rodin, she is doomed to second-class citizenship.

Camille will spend almost three decades without hope: "Sadder than to lose one's possessions is to lose one's hope." Paul Claudel

Juliette Binoche and a cast of mental patients. What could possibly go wrong? And the answer is: nothing. This film is practically flawless from start to finish. I'll forewarn you by saying you mustn't expect a biographical story relating the turbulent life of sculptor Camille Claudel. For that, you might want to check out the 1988 film "Camille Claudel" starring Isabelle Adjani.

"Camille Claudel 1915" is, as director Bruno Dumont says, "a film about someone who spends her time doing not much". In other words, this won't give you the saucy, dramatic story of Camille's affair with her mentor Rodin, nor will it attempt to explain what her "mental illness" was, and very few clues are given as to why she ends up at a mental asylum to begin with. Perhaps even more noticeable is the fact that none of Camille's art is shown or alluded to. This movie, quiet but moving, is simply about 3 days in the life of Camille as she copes with an artist's worst torture: boredom.

Camille is excellently played by Juliette Binoche who describes this film as "mostly silent with only two or three moments with a lot of speaking, as if all the words she hadn't been able to say come out in a rush, all at once." Indeed, she doesn't say a word for almost the first 10 minutes. But through the use of extreme, unsettling closeups, and some painfully telling facial expressions, the film conveys almost everything we need to know without words. When Juliette does open her mouth to deliver her monologues, they are absolutely riveting, emotional and affecting. It should be noted that many of her lines were improvised, having only 4 pages of script to work with. Dumont simply asked her to fill in the blanks.

Similarly improvised were all the roles of the mental patients around her. These were actual mental patients (attended by actual nurses dressed as nuns). The patients were never told what to do or how to "act". Instead Dumont wanted to capture the true environment of a mental institution which he felt is the same story 100 years ago as it is today. If Dumont needed a certain reaction or expression from a patient, for example an intense look of pensiveness, he would give the patient a piece of scotch tape to play with and film the patient's reaction. This all makes for very genuine cinema, the kind you could never get from SAG card-carrying actors.

Thus, don't expect a lot of dramatic scenes of patients being tortured by their sadistic keepers à la "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". Here instead is a very realistic image of a mental institution where people are cared for, and it's simply their condition of idleness and lassitude which is the torture. That itself conveys more hopelessness than if we were to see Nurse Ratched administering shock therapy.

Excellent cinematography and stunningly gorgeous locations round out this film. I don't recall hearing any music, and there are certainly no car chases and shootouts. No fancy camera tricks; in fact most of the takes are very long and still, allowing the images and actors to tell the story. I would compare this movie to other laconic, beautifully-shot films like "The Spirit of the Beehive" (1973) or some of Herzog's early work.

My high respect for Juliette Binoche's technique and talent has been bolstered by watching her performance as Camille Claudel in this film. The film itself presents a stunning vision of mental illness and its treatment in the age prior to advanced psychotropic drugs. I am a registered nurse and worked for ten years with very symptomatic psychiatric patients in hospital. Ms. Binoche's subtle performance captures the painful boredom of confinement, both physical and mental. Confined mentally by her anxiety and paranoia, Camille is sealed off from satisfying human contact with the sane, while being tortured by the attentions and needs of those more disabled than herself. The well-meant attempts of nuns to engage her with those whom she fears come across as nearly sadistic. This subtlety marks the film as exceptional in my opinion. The appearance of the religiously fanatic and equally disturbed brother, Paul Claudel, who functions as her jailer, adds a feminist sensitivity to the film. Camille's powerlessness is largely feminine in her sexist world. The interplay between religion and confinement, physical and mental, is also brought to light through Paul Claudel's obsessive grandiosity as he converses with his god. Who are sane or insane? The depressed nuns? The grinning abbot? The pompously righteous brother? Camille hoping for release? No answers are given, in typically French fashion. But this film is well worth the time and reflection.

Bruno Dumont's film is best appreciated if the viewer has viewed Bruno Nuytten's 1988 film "Camille Claudel" which ends with Camille being institutionalized by her brother Paul and her mother. That act can be initially condoned as Camille needed treatment at that time. Dumont's film is based surprisingly on the letters of Paul Claudel.

In Dumont's film too, Paul does not heed the doctor's view that Camille is a docile and almost normal and could be discharged. For those who have seen Nuytten's film, there is sufficient evidence that brother and sister had been very close to each other and Paul had tried to make his sister's work famous. All these critical facts are never stated in Dumont's film. The religious fervour of Camille in Dumont's film is totally absent in Nuytten's film. The long religious soliloquys of Paul, fits in with Dumont's interest in religion. For me, Dumont's attempts at describing Camille in the asylum is merely projecting Paul's attempt at absolving his decision not to help release his sister from the asylum.

Binoche is always good in any film but this performance is not her best--which I am convinced was the one in "Certified Copy."

Bruno Dumont's "Camille Claudel 1915" is 2013's undiscovered masterpiece. The film is a perfect marriage of a director's austere vision and actress showcase with Juliette Binoche's raw, poetic portrayal of the great French sculptress, middle-aged and institutionalized in an asylum ran by nuns.

Paranoid over her once illicit relationship with famed sculpture Auguste Rodin (she insists she cook her own food out of fear of being poisoned), its painfully obvious that Claudel's shifty, manic (but still very conscious) mind has perhaps stymied her gift for good. In one remarkable scene, Camille picks up a patch of dirt with the thickness of clay, and hearing the birds chirp in a tree, she tries to sculpt a sparrow and the earth just slips through the cracks of her fingers. Binoche makes it heartbreaking.

Dumont has made his art-house rep blending the rigid formal constraints of his grand forefather Robert Bresson with elements of the French Extreme cinema that emerged in the late 90's. In his films like "29 Palms" and "Flanders", behavior, often savage, is there to be observed not explained, and psychology is to be revoked. In the end we have actions, not characters. Not true in "Camille Claudel 1915". Bresson is very much there, but there is a bit of a Bergman and a Dreyer influence as well in its seeming religious objectivity (Dumont proves an expert of the pained close-up). We become familiar with Camille's day to day existence on the inside and out, and sensitive toward those 'truly' mentally ill that surround her.

The compassion and care of the nuns in the asylum toward the inhabitants is contrary to the fundamentalist extremism of Camille's brother Paul, the man responsible for her imprisonment. The film's only shocking moment comes when he explains to the asylum's priest that he became a Christian after being inspired by the poetry of Rimbaud, as we know Rimbaud's life and art was far more blasphemous than Claudel's.

Although more accessible than his previous work, Dumont's film will bore many viewers. Nowhere is it entertaining in any traditional Americanized sense. But anyone whose already familiar with Dumont, anyone that's felt levitated by Dreyer, Bresson or Bergman, anyone whose been a fan of Binoche and her acting, will be moved by this film as I was.