Vincent on Screen

         Two weeks ago my father rented a house in Duck, North Carolina, on the beach, and scattered family members made the trek south to spend a week together swimming, reading, cooking, watching movies, and, of course, assembling a thousand piece puzzle. My mother had bought a puzzle that contained numerous paintings by Vincent Van Gogh, which was great as it gave us all a rich experience studying his work as we tried to assemble the pieces. As we worked on this puzzle, I found myself sputtering all sorts of facts and theories about Van Gogh, and I soon realised that I seemed to know quite a bit about the man, despite having never studied him nor even reading a single book about him. Everything I know can be credited to two films – Loving Vincent (2017) and Lust for Life (1956).

            I saw Loving Vincent at the Princeton Garden Theatre last year, and was absolutely mesmerized by it.  I knew little of Van Gogh’s life – I knew that he had been unsuccessful in his own lifetime and had to be supported financially by his brother Theo, that he had supposedly cut off one of his ears (or rather, the lobe), and that he had shot himself. I have never formally studied art but I have always admired his work, enough to have a poster of The Starry Night on my wall throughout my college years. So when I saw Loving Vincent I knew very little about Van Gogh but was inclined to find the subject matter interesting. I perhaps was not ready to watch one of the most beautiful films ever made.

            The first thing to know about Loving Vincent is that every single frame – over sixty-five thousand total in its ninety-five minute run time - is hand painted in the style of Van Gogh’s art (see above). Loving Vincent claims to be the first ever fully hand-painted film – a feat achieved by over one hundred and twenty-five artists who painted over rotoscoped images. It’s a bit overwhelming – at times I found myself not focusing on the plot points, instead letting the imagery wash over me; but for the most part the story was strong enough that the substance matched the style. The film is set one year after the death of Van Gogh, mostly in Auvers-sur-Oise, France, the place where he committed suicide and where his Doctor, Paul Gachet, lived. Through stories told by those who knew him, the film explores Van Gogh’s final year, his struggles, his tormenters, his pain, and his painting. Van Gogh had several troubled relationships, and the film suggests that there was a belief, since discredited, that his suicide was actually a murder by René Secretan, one of the locals who frequently tormented him. I learned a lot about the man from this movie, but wanted to learn more.

            I remember reading once that Kirk Douglas had called Lust For Life his favourite movie that he had starred in. Being on something of a Van Gogh kick, I decided to watch it soon after seeing Loving Vincent, expecting something a bit less colourful but hopefully informative. Despite not being a hand painted film, Lust for Life is nevertheless breathtaking in its beauty, as the colours are reminiscent of the man’s work and pop accordingly in every shot – caused in at least one scene by spray painting an entire field of wheat a brighter shade of yellow. What I really loved about this movie, however, was that it finally delivered a full biography – of his life as an aspiring member of the clergy and his failures there, his life in Paris with his brother Theo and other artists (most notably Paul Gauguin, an Oscar winning performance by Anthony Quinn), and his last year with Dr. Gachet – all filmed on the locations that Van Gogh had lived. All of Van Gogh’s ups and downs are documented, as Douglas turns in a brilliantly mercurial performance, oscillating between meek and manic moods. It didn’t impress everyone; Kirk Douglas would later recount John Wayne’s reaction: "Christ, Kirk! How can you play a part like that? There's so few of us left! We got to play strong, tough characters - not those weak queers!" I think at this point Wayne’s negative opinion probably counts in the performances favour, as not everyone subscribes to that zero sum theory of masculinity.

            As a history teacher, I cannot recommend the learning of history through narrative films. There are too many hidden agendas on the parts of filmmakers – I really ought to read a few scholarly biographies before trying to claim that I really know anything about Van Gogh. But these films really helped me to get a sense of him, and to give me a richer experience as I fidgeted with puzzle pieces, trying to put his works in the right order. I got the feeling that Vincent Van Gogh was a man who lived a life of deep integrity and fierce courage, refusing to compromise on his artistic vision. This led him to be rejected by the very same bourgeois people who today hang prints of his paintings in their homes – or worse, assemble them in puzzles. In Don McLean’s song “Vincent”, McLean says to Van Gogh, “when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night, you took your life as lovers often do / but I could have told you Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.” That is the Van Gogh that both of these films portray, and thus, for better or for worse, it is the Van Gogh that I know.