A few days ago, while my Dad recuperated in hospital, my Mum and I went to the University of Victoria’s Cinema to see the film, Renoir. We knew little about it, only that it was about the artist Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841-1919) and one of his models. And although neither of us are that fond of Renoir’s work, it was a film about an artist, a well-known one, and that was enough motivation.

 

 

Well we certainly were not disappointed. The film is gorgeous, sumptuous. Each scene could be a painting. It is a movie to be seen on the big screen, breathtakingly beautiful as it is. Here’s the trailer.

 

The story takes place in the  summer of 1915, near the end of Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s life and shortly after the death of his wife Aline. Crippled with the pain and debilitation of rheumatoid arthritis, Renoir continues to paint, his hands taped each day. The arrival of a new model, the fiery redhead Andrée Heuschling aka Dedee, brings a new energy and zest to the painter. Renoir’s war-injured middle son, Jean Renoir (filmmaker to be), arrives to heal at the quiet and peaceful farm and the two young people form a liaison. Jean eventually re-enlists in the airforce leaving a devastated father and lover behind. This creates the bare bones upon which this sensual film is fleshed out.

 

 

The film is a study in contrasts – between the almost paradise-like environment of Renoir’s Cote d’Azur home and the horror of World War I playing out mostly in the north; between the exuberance of life and the hints of death (often through dead animals); between flesh perfect (as seen in the 17-year old Dedee) and flesh damaged (the two returning sons Jean and Pierre both suffer injuries as do other soldiers seen in the film) and flesh old (extreme close-ups of Renoir’s gnarled hands); between youth and age and all that each brings with it – wisdom/naivity, passion for life/acceptance.

 

 

One of the things I found fascinating (and, I assume, based on fact) was that Renoir, with the model in front of him and he observing, didn’t actually paint what he saw but was inspired by it instead. I think this is something to take to heart as an artist. The other thing that made an impact on me was Renoir’s commitment to painting no matter the excruciating pain he suffered from the inflammatory disease.

 

Here’s a link to some footage of the real Renoir painting at home. Pretty amazing to have this live action clip. I wonder what is he painting?? I love the lean back and squint he does a couple of times. Is the young man Claude, the youngest son? (A comment below the YouTube video suggests that it’s Jean but I think he’s too young to be Jean.)

 

And so what about these later paintings by Renoir? Let’s have a look.

 

 

 

Here’s an interesting review of a show that appeared at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. And another about a show of late Renoirs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

 

 

 

In a blog I was reading while researching this post, I found this wonderfully descriptive quote by Holland Cotter in his New York Times art review  on the treatment of skin tones in “The Bathers,” completed the year of Renoir’s death.

“…In a sense these aren’t even really paintings of figures; they’re paintings of skin. Expanses of it fill the center of canvases, swelling and folding, minutely and specifically textured and tinted: creamy rose, poached-salmon pink, toasty brown…It’s hard to look at anything else.”

 

In the movie, Renoir exclaims, “Flesh! That’s all that matters.” And that’s pretty evident in these voluptuous later nudes.

 

I have to say that after seeing the film and as I looked and looked at these paintings during the writing of this blog, they are, ever so slightly, growing on me. (Did I really say that??)  What do you think of Renoir’s late paintings? I’d love to hear your comments.

 

Thanks for being here with me. If you enjoyed this post, please share it!!

 

Until next time,

~ Gail

 

PS.  Apparently the re-created paintings and the act of painting seen on screen was done by convicted art forger, Guy Ribes!

PPS. And because I’m fascinated by self-portraits…..

PPPS. Apparently much of the information for the movie dialogue comes from Jean Renoir’s memoir about his father (clicking on the image will take you to amazon.ca):