Sunday, April 29, 2007

Film / The Painted Veil




The Painted Veil

Philip French
Sunday 29 April 2007



S

omerset Maugham's 1925 novel The Painted Veil, previously filmed rather beautifully in 1934 starring Greta Garbo and indifferently in 1957 as The Seventh Sin, is the tale of Kitty (Naomi Watts), the errant wife of Walter (Edward Norton), a strait-laced English doctor in China.

As a form of punishment, he takes her into a remote, cholera-stricken province where she experiences redemption and comes to love her husband. The novel was inspired by an incident in Dante's 'Purgatorio' which Maugham had read as a medical student in the late 19th century, and much influenced by his terminally troubled marriage.

This version is tougher than the previous ones and convincingly in period. The three principal actors (two Americans and an Australian) affect acceptable British accents, and there are admirable performances from Diana Rigg as the acerbic mother superior of an orphanage for Chinese children and Toby Jones as dodgy colonial official. The film is inevitably more critical of Europeans in Asia than is the novel and, for no good reason, Kitty's child has been changed from a daughter to a son, but Ron Nyswaner has generally made a decent adaptation.

I admire Alexandre Desplat greatly but found his score here a trifle excessive. On the other hand, I can't praise too highly the cinematography by New Zealander Stuart Dryburgh, whose interiors, shot in a Beijing studio, are as beautifully lit as the paintings of Joseph Wright of Derby.


THE GUARDIAN

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Chuck Close's best shot / A Couple of Ways of Doing Something

A Couple of Ways of Doing Something by Chuck Close

Chuck Close's best shot

'Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work'
Leo Benedictus
Thu 19 Apr 2007

Lorna is one of my artist friends. She has a very infectious smile and very sensuous lips - I had a photograph on my wall for a long time of just her lips. I love the way her face looms out of the darkness and floats there above the out-of-focus neck and chest. I love the way she looks too - the range of things that are in her face. And then there is this sculptural quality, almost like a Brancusi or something.
The picture is a daguerreotype, which used to be called "keepers of light". They have a range from the deepest, darkest velvety blacks to the brightest highlights that reflect into your eyes. Each picture has unbelievable detail and very shallow depth of field. Photographs are often so big now that 20 or 30 people can view one at the same time, but a daguerreotype is the most intimate image made with a camera, because it is small and only one person can look at it.
It is a very slow process, too. After the plate is prepared, and the model is posed, you expose it in the same way that you would with film. The only difference is that it's a mirror-image. In a way, the daguerreotype is built for the sitter - because the sitter has always looked in the mirror, so it always looks right to them and wrong to everybody else.

Then the plate goes into the dark room, where it is suspended in mercury vapour. After that it is brought back into regular light and washed, so you and the subject get to see each piece before you move on. I put the plate in a tray of water at my feet while I'm taking the next shot.
I'm not interested in daguerreotypes because it's an antiquarian process; I like them because, from my point of view, photography never got any better than it was in 1840.