A painter from a good family, Pierre Bonnard (Vincent Macaigne, placid) one day brings into his studio a maker of artificial flowers who claims to be called Marthe de Méligny (Cécile de France, fiery) and to be an orphan aristocrat. The years go by. With Marthe as his main model, muse and companion, Pierre achieved more and more success with his paintings.
Unable to tolerate worldly affairs, Marthe keeps Pierre at their country house, far from his friends, the painters Vuillard (Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet, insipid) and Monet (André Marcon, rigid) and, above all, from the pianist and patron Misia Sert (Anouk Grinberg, inspired but histrionic). The years go by. Enter Renée Monchaty (Stacy Martin, bland), fine arts student and Pierre’s new model.
Nearly 15 years after creating Séraphine, a magnificent portrait of the painter Séraphine de Senlis featuring Yolande Moreau, Martin Provost (Violette) intrudes into the intimacy of a painter he admires and the mysterious figure who haunts a third of his works. This time, the filmmaker was not totally touched by grace.
Written with Marc Abdelnour, Bonnard, Pierre et Marthe recounts in an elliptical manner a less than captivating life as a couple made up of bickering and reconciliations, separations and reunions, lies and half-truths over 50 years. Drawn in broad strokes, the characters border on caricature, especially the female characters, all unlikeable, even detestable. So a country lunch with friends turns into a grotesque argument coupled with a competition for the most hysterical character.
To drown it all out, Michael Galasso throws in a soundtrack consisting of a haunting rhythmic cell that he repeats ad nauseam. Fortunately, the visual greatly outweighs the music in this wise biographical drama. If he neglects to deal with the Nabi movement, a revolutionary post-impressionist artistic movement of which Bonnard was one of the leading figures, Martin Provost pays a vibrant tribute to the latter’s work. And, very briefly, to that of Marthe Bonnard, known as Marthe Solange, who, taking advantage of a disenchanted break, distinguished herself as a painter.
With the magnificent photography and careful framing of Guillaume Schiffman, Bonnard, Pierre et Marthe immerses the viewer in the lush nature, vibrant colors and warm interiors that inspired the painter of happiness to create his most beautiful paintings. The result is a trivial marital drama crossed by lively pages of art history where we flirt with the divine.
