Camille

Camille

"Miss Claudel has become a master." "She has the talent of a man." "She's a witch." And so Auguste Rodin and friends neatly sum up the sad trajectory of Camille Claudel's career. We first meet the sculptor as she digs clay with bare fingers from a frozen ditch, in the winter of 1885. By the time the film leaves her, in 1913, she's an acclaimed, if socially scorned, artist who's been committed to an asylum. In the interim, Claudel (Isabelle Adjani) falls in love with the famous, older, womanizing Rodin (GĂ©rard Depardieu). Claudel abandons her work to assist the creatively bankrupt Rodin, filling in as his muse, assistant, and lover. When pregnancy forces Claudel to ask him to choose between her and his longtime mistress, he won't, she leaves, and their alliance ends. This proves to be the turning point for Claudel's mental health; when her affair with Rodin ends, she begins her intimacy with insanity. As her madness blooms, so do her long-neglected sculptures, which seem to come to life in her hands and arms. Not only a potent love story, Camille Claudel is also an account of art and its wellsprings, and this is where it excels, especially when we witness Claudel's manic genius at work, driven by the necessity to externalize her emotions in the forms of her sculptures. In the end, the viewer wonders about the causes of Claudel's madness: was it genes, or her reaction against society's mores, or the product of Rodin's persecution? Or, as one exasperated family member terms it, was it "the madness of mud"? --Stefanie Durbin

Genre: Drama, Romance
Production: MGM Home Entertainment
  Nominated for 1 Oscar. Another 3 wins.
 
IMDB:
7.5
Rotten Tomatoes:
92%
PASSED
Year:
1936
109
1,007 Views

Marguerite:
Are you following me?

Armand:
Yes, you, well you did smile at me a moment ago, didn't you?

Marguerite:
Well, you tell me first whether you smiled at me or at my friend [Olympe].

Armand:
What friend?

Marguerite:
You didn't even see her?

Armand:
No.

Marguerite:
That's very nice.

Armand:
I was just wondering if you'd ask me to sit down if I knocked at the door of the box.

Marguerite:
Why not? We really seemed fated to meet this evening, didn't we?

Armand:
Fate must have had something to do with this. I've hoped for it so long. You don't believe me.

Marguerite:
No.

Armand:
The first time I saw you was a year and a half ago. You were in an open carriage and dressed in white. I saw you get out and go into a shop in La Place de la Bourse.

Marguerite:
Yes, it might have happened. I used to go to a dressmaker in La Place de la Bourse.

Armand:
You were wearing a thin dress with miles of ruffles, a large straw hat, an embroidered shawl, a single bracelet and heavy gold chain. And, of course, the camellias at your waist.

Marguerite:
You have a marvelous memory, haven't you?

Armand:
The next time was at the Opera La Comique. You were sitting in a box with a fur coat on, and Gaston - a chap whom I know who knows you, said Marguerite's been ill. And it hurt me. Next time...

Marguerite:
Well, tell me, if all you say is true, why have you never spoken to me before?

Armand:
In the first place, I didn't know you.

Marguerite:
You didn't know me tonight.

Armand:
No, but after you smiled at me, I knew you wouldn't mind.

Marguerite:
And now, since you've met me?

Armand:
Now I know that I love you - and have loved you since that first day.

Marguerite:
Oh, it's you. What's happened? You look ill too.

Armand:
No, it's seeing you like this, suffering.

Marguerite:
It's nothing. It lasts only a minute.

Armand:
You're killing yourself.

Marguerite:
If I am, you're the only one who objects. Now, why don't you go back and dance with one of those pretty girls. [She laughs] Come, I'll go with you. [He embraces and kisses her hand] What a child you are.

Armand:
Your hand's so hot.

Marguerite:
Is that why you put tears on it and cool it?

Armand:
I know I don't mean anything to you. I don't count. But someone ought to look after you. And I could if you'd let me.

Marguerite:
Too much wine has made you sentimental.

Armand:
It wasn't wine that made me come here every day for months to find out how you were.

Marguerite:
No, it couldn't have been wine. So you'd really like to take care of me?

Armand:
Yes.

Marguerite:
All day, every day?

Armand:
All day, every day. Why not? [She laughs]

Marguerite:
Why should you care for a woman like me? I'm always nervous or sick, or sad or too gay.

Armand:
I do care for you.

Marguerite:
You know what you should do. You should get married. Ah. Come, come. You're young and sensitive. The sort of company you're in tonight doesn't suit you at all.

Armand:
Nor you.

Marguerite:
No. These are the only friends I have and I'm no better than they are. However, I've given you some very good advice. Now let's go back. [She notices his hesitation and laughs] Oh, what on earth am I going to do with you?

Armand:
No one has ever loved you as I love you.

Marguerite:
That may be true, but what can I do about it? You should go away and not see me anymore. But don't go in anger. Well, why don't you laugh at yourself a little as I laugh at myself, and come and talk to me once in a while in a friendly way?

Armand:
That's too much and not enough. Don't you believe in love, Marguerite?

Marguerite:
I don't think I know what it is.

Armand:
Oh, thank you.

Marguerite:
For what?

Armand:
For never having been in love. [She laughs at him.]

Marguerite:
I think I know my own heart better than you can, Monsieur, and I can trust it not to change.

Monsieur Duval:
No woman unprotected as you are can afford to give the best years of her life to a man who when he leaves her will leave her with nothing. And who is certain to leave her in the end.

Marguerite:
I don't suppose you can understand how any woman, unprotected as you say I am, can be lifted above self-interest by a sentiment so delicate and pure that she feels only humiliation when you speak of such things.

Monsieur Duval:
I realize now that you do love him unselfishly. But even so, I say it can't go on.

Marguerite:
But it will go on!

Monsieur Duval:
Armand is a young man with his way to make, with a career waiting for him. And in his case, he can't serve his best interest by being tied to a woman he can't present to his family or his friends.

Marguerite:
Armand is no different than other men.

Monsieur Duval:
Oh, come Mme. Be honest. Haven't you found him different? Haven't you found him more sensitive, more loyal? Or am I prejudiced because I'm his father?

Marguerite:
No. I know Armand was different.

Monsieur Duval:
So you see, as long as Armand loves you, he'll not enter rooms that you can't.

Marguerite:
But a man can go back. He can always go back. Monsieur, suppose I told you I have a feeling I shan't live very long.

Monsieur Duval:
Well then I scold you for being fanciful and a little foolish. What you probably feel is the melancholy of happiness, that mood that comes over all of us when we realize that even love can't remain at flood tide forever.

Marguerite:
Oh Armand, I'm doomed.

Monsieur Duval:
With him, you're both doomed. Without a profession of any sort, what can he do, unless he sinks so low, he's willing to let some other man foot the bills for his life with you.

Marguerite:
You don't know Armand. He wouldn't say that.

Monsieur Duval:
No one knows the man he might become if he loses his self-respect. But I think that's too high a price to pay even for love. I want Armand to enjoy life, not to be sacrificed to it. You see, my son is as dear to me as he can possibly be to you.

Marguerite:
Yes, but you have others who are dear to you. I have only Armand. You don't know how I've changed. And he taught me that love is not always selfish, nor goodness dull, nor men faithless. No, no, you can't expect me to give up such love as his.

Marguerite:
Baron de Varville is not a patient man. And you're in the mood to quarrel with him tonight.

Armand:
Naturally you don't want to lose your rich admirer, I understand. Your own fortune would fall with him.

Marguerite:
Armand, he's not to blame for what happened - that I swear.

Armand:
Then how could you do what you did? I'll tell you. Because your heart is a thing that can be bought and sold. Yes, I know you gave it to me for a whole summer, but when it came to a choice, the jewels and carriages he could give you were worth more than my love, my devotion, my life.

Marguerite:
Yes, that's true. I'm a completely worthless woman and no man should risk his life for me. For that reason alone, I beg you leave this place at once.

Armand:
I will. I will on one condition - that you'll go with me.

Marguerite:
No.

Armand:
I came back to Paris to tell you that I despise you, and I do. But I love you too. [She falls limp back into his arms]

Marguerite:
No.

Armand:
Say you'll go away with me, we'll forget the past. We'll never turn back.

Marguerite:
No, no.

Armand:
I doubled my fortune tonight at his expense. And when that's gone, I'll work, I'll beg, borrow, I'll steal, but I must be with you always, always.

Marguerite:
When I hear you talking such a future, I realize I'm right in doing what I did. Look. Do you suppose we could ever be happy together even if I were free to act as I choose?

Armand:
But you are free. We're both free.

Marguerite:
I've given a solemn promise never to return to you.

Armand:
To whom?

Marguerite:
To someone that had the right to ask you.

Armand:
To the Baron de Varville?

Marguerite:
[painfully lying] Yes.

Armand:
Then you do love him. Dare to tell me that you love him. You're free of me forever.

Marguerite:
I love him.


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