I've heard confusingly mixed things about this film, and after seeing it for myself I realise why some people like it. Julien Temple et al made it with obvious passion and love. True romantics, who prize passion above all things, will be dazzled by this movie. However, to my regret I feel that Vigo: A Passion for Life has very little actual quality.
Possibly it didn't have enough content. Possibly the writers loved the real Jean Vigo too much to add more fiction to his life. It needed more twists and turns, more story. As it stands, the movie would have been much better if it had been half the length of a feature film. Even in 1998 film festivals would have accepted a 40-minute short film. It would have been much stronger.
Another problem was the melodrama. Theatrics is such a dangerous road to go down when you're trying to be heartfelt. If you're telling an amorous tale of passion, love and death, it's a distinctly bad thing when your audience sighs "oh for God's sake, stop it" upon seeing one of the characters storm dramatically out of the room for the millionth time.
Over-the-top is amateurish. That's why it's called OVER the top. There's nothing wrong with a bit of theatrics, but they should be used infrequently and to great effect, as opposed to in every single scene.
If it was a tribute to flailing French drama then fine. But do it in French.
In a film desperate to make every scene affecting and meaningful, only two stood out for me as at all worthwhile. In one, Vigo speaks to his little daughter over the phone, and claps his hand over the mouthpiece every few seconds to hide the hoarseness of his dying breaths from her. And in a surprisingly underplayed death scene, Vigo and his wife Lydu lie asleep in bed, her hand resting on his chest to feel it rising and falling with every breath. He dies subtly, like he's been punctured and is finally out of breath, and Lydu's hand jolts awake upon his dead chest. Seconds ago they could have said their goodbyes.
The acting is quite good. The dark and dashing James Frain has ambled down a slightly odd career path since Vigo, and here, youthful and fresh-faced (and inexplicably signing up for full-frontal nudity), he plays the infamous French filmmaker. I think Frain had quite a muddled character to work with. Jean Vigo was a real man, but he's also a character. The writers didn't build the character well. His key trait is evidently supposed to be passion, but he didn't seem any more passionate than the next man. If I hadn't seen his real films, only this one, I would ask what's so special about Jean Vigo.
Lydu wasn't passionate either. She was hysterical. She was all over the place with her feelings, she appeared to be in love with another man, and she did nothing whatsoever to deserve Vigo. One of the reviews claims she can get away with it because she's a "French beauty". I don't want to cause offence – I only bring this up because it seemed to have a part to play in the actual story – but the character of Lydu was, to my eyes, very unattractive indeed, especially (ironically) as a bride. "His beautiful wife" is part of the movie's pitch. Even if I did find Lydu beautiful, I wouldn't think it excused her mad behaviour.
Vigo: A Passion for Life had some exquisite, dappled shots, a couple of original and touching scenes, and a strong lead actor. And I thought the TB hospital was fascinating. But the writers let the side down. I could feel the love the makers had for Jean Vigo. But the story didn't hold its own: it didn't have a CORE. Was it passion? Love? Sanity? Illness? Mortality? Voice? Adulthood? It was none of those things really. The core was just... biography. Sometimes, to write a movie, you need to get a good night's sleep, put a pin in your frenzied adoration, and work on structure, plot, and something that will get your movie a fanbase of more than a small handful of besotted romantics.
Possibly it didn't have enough content. Possibly the writers loved the real Jean Vigo too much to add more fiction to his life. It needed more twists and turns, more story. As it stands, the movie would have been much better if it had been half the length of a feature film. Even in 1998 film festivals would have accepted a 40-minute short film. It would have been much stronger.
Another problem was the melodrama. Theatrics is such a dangerous road to go down when you're trying to be heartfelt. If you're telling an amorous tale of passion, love and death, it's a distinctly bad thing when your audience sighs "oh for God's sake, stop it" upon seeing one of the characters storm dramatically out of the room for the millionth time.
Over-the-top is amateurish. That's why it's called OVER the top. There's nothing wrong with a bit of theatrics, but they should be used infrequently and to great effect, as opposed to in every single scene.
If it was a tribute to flailing French drama then fine. But do it in French.
In a film desperate to make every scene affecting and meaningful, only two stood out for me as at all worthwhile. In one, Vigo speaks to his little daughter over the phone, and claps his hand over the mouthpiece every few seconds to hide the hoarseness of his dying breaths from her. And in a surprisingly underplayed death scene, Vigo and his wife Lydu lie asleep in bed, her hand resting on his chest to feel it rising and falling with every breath. He dies subtly, like he's been punctured and is finally out of breath, and Lydu's hand jolts awake upon his dead chest. Seconds ago they could have said their goodbyes.
The acting is quite good. The dark and dashing James Frain has ambled down a slightly odd career path since Vigo, and here, youthful and fresh-faced (and inexplicably signing up for full-frontal nudity), he plays the infamous French filmmaker. I think Frain had quite a muddled character to work with. Jean Vigo was a real man, but he's also a character. The writers didn't build the character well. His key trait is evidently supposed to be passion, but he didn't seem any more passionate than the next man. If I hadn't seen his real films, only this one, I would ask what's so special about Jean Vigo.
Lydu wasn't passionate either. She was hysterical. She was all over the place with her feelings, she appeared to be in love with another man, and she did nothing whatsoever to deserve Vigo. One of the reviews claims she can get away with it because she's a "French beauty". I don't want to cause offence – I only bring this up because it seemed to have a part to play in the actual story – but the character of Lydu was, to my eyes, very unattractive indeed, especially (ironically) as a bride. "His beautiful wife" is part of the movie's pitch. Even if I did find Lydu beautiful, I wouldn't think it excused her mad behaviour.
Vigo: A Passion for Life had some exquisite, dappled shots, a couple of original and touching scenes, and a strong lead actor. And I thought the TB hospital was fascinating. But the writers let the side down. I could feel the love the makers had for Jean Vigo. But the story didn't hold its own: it didn't have a CORE. Was it passion? Love? Sanity? Illness? Mortality? Voice? Adulthood? It was none of those things really. The core was just... biography. Sometimes, to write a movie, you need to get a good night's sleep, put a pin in your frenzied adoration, and work on structure, plot, and something that will get your movie a fanbase of more than a small handful of besotted romantics.