Like most art lovers, prolific filmmaker Lasse Hallstrom had not heard of the prolific painter Hilma Af Klint (1862-1944) until recently. All his life, Af Klint was ignored, discouraged, sidelined, and overlooked, but he never stopped creating, except for four years. She took her paintings beyond figurative still lifes and landscapes into the uncharted realm of abstraction, years before Wassily Kandinsky asserted its revolutionary leap mantle. Her works were kept for 20 years after her death, according to her instructions, but none have been sold.
Beginning with a landmark exhibition in Stockholm in 2013, before traveling to seven other European cities and New York, it was a breakthrough artist’s (market-free) discovery.halina dirushka movies 2019 beyond what is visibleis the first feature-length documentary about Clint, and explores the breadth and depth of her legacy through a revisionist art-historical perspective that is nothing short of galvanic.of HilmaHallström not only celebrates in a suitably captivating and immersive way the singular blend of natural and spiritual mysteries that have driven her, but also delves into a fiery and sometimes troubling personal story.
lively and sensual.
venue: Palm Springs International Film Festival (Modern Masters)
cast: Lena Olin, Tra Hallström, Katherine Chalk, Jazzy de Lisser, Lily Cole, Rebecca Calder, Maeve Darmody, Anna Björk, Martin Walström, Tom Vlastich
Director/Screenplay: Lasse Hallström
1 hour 54 minutes
The English-language drama (Hallström was unable to find funding for a film depicting his fellow Swede in his native language) will premiere in North America at the Palm Springs Festival and will be released domestically in April by Juno Films. It’s a schedule. It seems destined for a warm arthouse welcome.
I can’t pinpoint when I first became aware of af Klint’s work. Perhaps it was Olivier Assayas’ mood-setting shout. personal shopper — but recall the sense of awareness, reconnection, deadline click, click, click, transcendental timeless language evoked by her vibrant abstract imagery. Writer-director Hallström was pointed the way for Clint by his wife, actor Lena Olin. The film they made together is a family business, and at its heart is the impressive debut her performance by the couple’s daughter, Tora Hallström, as her lead. (Also a promising reinvention. In her teens, she made her two brief appearances in her father’s face, Hilma, she worked in the financial world. )
Having played the title character for decades, Tora Hallström embodies a perennial outsider with an eye for family, school, society and, importantly, the realm of the arts and the world of big business. . (Refreshingly, her aging is subtly shown rather than emphasized in many of the film’s hypervisual ways, but at key narrative junctures the passage of years can be made more apparent.) Energy.The film is bookended by powerful scenes of Orrin as Elder Hilma, a “witch” beyond comprehension to them, with severe fatigue in her eyes. But she also feels a dim hunger as she takes in the rustic beauty of the trees that line the city streets.
Hallström traces Hilma’s birth as an unconventional artist to the early death of her beloved sister (Emmi Tjernström). Together they explored Aderso Island. There, their navy clans owned ancestral lands, but without much money and nobility names. For Hilma, researching the natural world and painting flowers and shells is a matter of science, not decoration. “Art is my research tool,” she told the Skeptical Men’s Committee, interviewing her for admission to the Academy of the Arts.
She is determined to create a map of the world, including the physical and the invisible. Her attention to both realities is vivid in the film, thanks to the delicate pulse of the sweater compilation, the rich and heightened palette of Katarina Nyqvist-Ernrud’s production design and Flor Vauvillé’s costumes. I live a dynamic life. All of this has been orchestrated by Hallström with heart and soul, and nothing particularly sentimental. The accent is on direct experience, revelation and invention, and the inner strength of a woman who stays true to herself.
The director’s script spends a good deal of time on De Femme (The Five), a group Hilma formed with four other women he met in art school. (Lily Cole) and Anna Cassel (Katherine Chalk). Together they study theosophy and spiritualism that were fashionable at the time, rather than outre as they are today. Hallström treats these areas of investigation with respect and wonder. The women experiment with automatic writing via planchettes and, guided by spirits and led by Hilma, collectively produce art. Anna, who has enough family money, finances Hilma’s project. She believes this is a very pressing issue for her and for the world. It may be a matter of guesswork, but Anna is not only Hilma’s benefactor, but also her lover, and the sensual connection between the two is subtly conveyed in one of the first scenes. From inside.
Hilma’s mother (Anna Björk) is as tentative as her daughter is rebellious, and when she needs a nurse, Anna pays for it too, but the hired woman Thomasin (Jazzy De Lisser) is replacing her in Hilma’s affections. Hallström and his two leads, to his performance credits, Hilma It embraces complexity and doesn’t require pedestals or hero worship. Still, the ups and downs, jealousy and stops and starts of Anna and Hilma’s relationship become repetitive and boring halfway through the film. It’s clear that these sequences are meant to convey not only Hilma’s demanding will, but also her artistic stagnation, but Hilma’s creativity, the true driving force of the story, is a real driving force within the melodrama. I feel lost.
Despite all her confidence, Hilma succumbs to the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner in painful extravagance. Played by the illustrious historical figure and utterly transcendent Tom Urskiha, he is an occultist who holds above all else to her even after she implores him to endorse her art. She responds with normative notions of what art is and why her work does not qualify.
But it’s not all mansplaining for Hilma. In a surprisingly awkward encounter at an exhibition of Edvard Munch’s (Paulius Marchevitius) paintings, he gives encouragement but is general and is inspired by her reaction to one of his canvases. I’m here. Relying on the generosity of others, Hiruma can create a utopian island studio and paint large-scale paintings for the temple she envisions. Hampered, she found her way to victory, but at great cost. Hilma Embracing the essence with ecstasy.