Girl with a Pearl Earring
Who knew there was so much melodrama behind a 17th-century Dutch master's portrait of a bejewled young blonde? Clearly, some thought, enough to make a movie of a book about it; mainstream audiences, however, may not see it the same way.
In this Britney-and-Beyonce-obsessed age, 'tis a wonder anyone other than an art history buff knows who Rembrandt is, let alone that other Dutch painter guy--what'shisname, Vermeer. In fact, very little is known about the 17th-century painter, who died in debt at 43 and left most of his works, including his most famous of a young girl wearing a pearl earring, shrouded in mystery. Girl With a Pearl Earring is director Peter Webber's adaptation of the 1999 Tracy Chevalier novel that spun a gauzy fiction about the painter's unrequited obsession with a young maid who became his muse, and the subject of said painting. The maid in question is Griet (Scarlett Johansson), whose tilemaker father's accident forces their family into poverty and her into servitude--and it's no picnic. Morose, henpecked Vermeer (Colin Firth) hides in his studio away from the household, which includes the puffy and pampered wife (Essie Davis) he keeps eternally pregnant; her tyrannical, domineering mother (Judy Parfitt), who brazenly solicits work for Vermeer from patrons like rich lecher Van Ruijven (Tom Wilkinson); and a multitude of Vermeer brats. Full-lipped and nubile, the servant Griet becomes the artist's secret obsession--he spies on her cleaning his studio, teaches her about painting (or, at least, how to make his paints) and seduces her while painting her portrait behind his wife's back.
With little dialogue to speak, Johansson's Griet is a study in silence. Her wide-eyed, earnest stares and Mona Lisa smile do the talking for her, proving a picture certainly can say a thousand words. She may get more attention for Lost in Translation, but this is her vehicle. Johansson's quiet, understated performance makes the others look that much more overstated--Wilkinson's vulgar, mustache twirling art patron, for example, and Davis's jealous and ranting Catharina Vermeer for another, although they too are very solid turns. Firth's Vermeer fades into the background surrounded by these big personalities, understandably and fittingly so; he's the brooding artist who'd be far happier left alone to gaze upon his subject. Although the master and the servant never do much more than exchange looks, the sensual energy between them is palpable.
This movie is beautiful, absolutely stunning--it's as if cinematographer Eduardo Serra saw Vermeer's life through the artist's eyes, and that vision comes through in exquisitely framed and lit shots. Some scenes--of young lovers walking along a tree-lined canal in fall, light beaming across the girl's face as she cleans the studio's beveled windows--are literally breathtaking. Just as an artist's work is tactile, so does this film feel--in the sounds of a heavy knife chopping vegetables and a spatula grinding pigment into paste volumes are spoken in the clean, white crispness of Griet's bonnet. First-time helmer Webber occasionally allows the camera to hang too long (a lip-licking scene in extreme close-up, for example), but he creates a fully enveloping period and confidently leads his cast through this fairly thin story. You can pretty much guess what you're in for with a movie about a 17th-century Dutch master; knowing that, if there's any criticism to be made it's that the pic feels every bit of its 95 minutes long. A lovely score by Alexandre Desplat also deserves a mention, although it sometimes overwhelms scenes with unwarranted portentousness.
With superb performances marking a contrived story about a 17th-century Dutch artist and his muse, this film is not just for art lovers, it's for anyone who appreciates gorgeous filmmaking.