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The Review - AT THE MOVIES with DAN CARRIER
Published: 26 November 2009
 
Yolande Moreau as Seraphine
Yolande Moreau as Seraphine
Moving tale of an artist society brushed aside

SERAPHINE
Directed by Martin Provost
Certificate 18

SHE worked like a magpie, her eye catching sight of anything that glittered, anything that shone, and, after scooping it up and secretly taking it home, French artist Seraphine would create the most wonderful paintings, using her haul as the objects and materials for her work.
As this superb bio-pic of this little-known French artist explains, her love of beauty partly came from the fact she was so cut off from society’s riches: a char woman bullied by her employer, treated like the village idiot by her neighbours, the film states that it was no wonder this sensitive lady created a sense of inner beauty when society spurned her at every turn.
As she trawls the gutters for strange objects, cuddles trees, and generally acts like a tiny tot trapped in an old lady’s body, the viewer feels a strange solidarity for this quiet outcast.
We watch her from afar as she does her house work in a manic manner – all the time her mind is whirring, not thinking about the steps she scrubs but (and this only becomes obvious later) of some helter skelter art idea spinning round her head.
The plot really gets moving when a mysterious guest comes to stay in the home were she works. We learn that the lodger is none other than the esteemed Wilhelm Uhde, a German art critic and collector. He had travelled to Seraphine’s village of Senlis outside Paris to write and relax. He at first is wary of the odd behaviour. Instead of making him tea, she offers him a shot of her own fortified wine, which she explains in rural French will essentially put hair on his chest.
Uhde is discovered as an art expert by the landlady, who invites him to join her snobby friends for dinner. He spots a painting by Seraphine, and is enthralled and then shocked by the identity of its creator.
We then watch as their relationship develops, cut in half by the war and made even trickier by the strictures of the society at the time.
The film jumps forward to the end of her life, and we learn that the burden of her artistic talent and her expectations slowly turn her eccentric nature into madness.
It is hardly surprising. Seraphine is oppressed at first in her job, is treated terribly by those who have dealings with her, and has to face condescension for the art world.
This is splendid stuff. Harrowing, tragic and heavy – thanks to Yolande Moreau’s performance in the lead role.
Seraphine’s story is sad without any embellishment needed.
Moreau’s interpretation of it brings home the tragedy.
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