We will not say that a character with such a powerful aura had until now been shunned by the 7th Art. Firstly because the American director Richard Fleischer had already dedicated a (not very memorable) film to her in 1976, then because the silhouette of Sarah Bernhardt regularly found its way into the background of a large number of films thereafter. and series. Was another film yet to be made about this unparalleled cultural icon? Was there a new angle conducive to creating an echo with our times? It was quite easy to answer yes, because everything here is based on Bernhardt’s non-conformist claims, praising her liberated sexuality, her assumed eccentricity, her fight against anti-Semitism (she supported Emile Zola in his vigorous defense of Alfred Dreyfus) and his absolute refusal of the death penalty. Suffice it to say, strong thematic points, inevitably likely to raise questions about the state of a France today increasingly marked by the rebound of conservative and nauseating ideas. That being said, to the extent that the biopic has been characterized for too long by its poverty and its absence of point of view, we expected that Guillaume Nicloux, French leader of perpetual non-labeling and real head researcher of paths of narrative crossings, can intelligently reveal the codes from the inside. However, coming from a filmmaker as unique and unclassifiable as him, the result is quite a surprise. Precisely because it does not surprise.
Even if we would like to pass off a deconstructed narration as proof of audacity, this is only a commonplace specific to the biopic, just like praising the beauty of the frame and the photography (here by Yves Cape) and the quality of the work carried out on the period reconstruction (sets, costumes, makeup, etc.) is an argument which no longer carries much weight. More than ever, it is through the biases of staging, aesthetic subversion and script structure that it is possible to detect the angle, the point of view, in short the audacity capable of winning the piece . Let’s say it right away, it is the opening credits which exclusively grants itself this role by capturing the agony of Bernhardt in his bed, via a theatricality of the acting and the scenography which is amplified until that the applause of an audience is heard off-camera. Brilliant, disturbing moment, blurring the two sides of Bernhardt (his eccentric personality and his excessive acting) and the identity of his own entourage in the same cinematic gesture. The rest, alas, takes us back forty floors by simply unfolding the average story of a short period of Bernhardt’s life, based on repetitive sentimental conflicts and a cascade of famous personalities (Guitry, Rostand, Freud , Zola…) to savor like a parade of Panini stickers.
Nicloux makes the right choice here to treat Bernhardt as a center of gravity around which electrons constantly swirl, sometimes passive, sometimes decorative (only Laurent Lafitte manages to stand out here in a role that is both fragile and moving), but he can hardly to avoid the trap that such a subject of study set for him. To dig into the Sarah woman under the Bernhardt legend is to inevitably confront head-on the triple veneer of her fragility, namely an ultra-narcissistic personality, a profoundly cyclothymic character, and more generally a tendency towards pomposity that the we have the right to find it boring. Basically not so far from that of Gloria Swanson in “Twilight Boulevard“, Sandrine Kiberlain’s performance is like a tightrope walker’s exercise, non-stop attempting noisy pirouettes on a wire that moves too much and threatens to break. The actress of “9 months firm“, who we know is capable of rising to the level of the greatest, has certainly abandoned herself to this kamikaze role, faithfully reproducing the tempestuous emotions and the art of larger-than-life declamation. However, we will consider that she failed to touch “accuracy in excess”, if only because of scenes a priori devoid of tension which turned into cacophonous exhibition, with too much forced voice and little reinforced soul – and this quickly ruins the atmosphere. As collateral damage of such a sinusoidal acting performance, it is inevitably the histrionics which turns to high D. Some will say that respect for the character justified this. We will respond that this above all brings the biopic back to its weakest function: to transcribe without seeking to transcend.
Guillaume GasSend a message to the editor
