Nominated for the Golden Bear at Berlin, Camille Claudel, 1915, the latest film by French auteur Bruno Dumont, is arguably his best realized and most accessible work since La Vie de Jesus and L'humanité in the late 1990s. Juliet Binoche delivers a masterful performance as sculptor and graphic artist Camille Claudel, mistress of Auguste Rodin, who was confined to an asylum at Montdevergues near Avignon in 1914 after an emotional collapse. Derived from Camille's medical records and private letters to her brother, poet and staunch Catholic Paul Claudel (Jean-Luc Vincent), the film takes place over a period of three days in the asylum where we experience the oppressive nature of Camille's routines, lightened only by the inmates attempt at performing the play Don Juan.
Although Dumont uses mentally-disabled patients and their nurses as actors, there is no hint of exploitation and they are only used to draw a sharp contrast between Camille and the seriously ill. Considered to be a great but unrecognized feminist artist (usually only discussed in relation to Rodin), Camille is filled with despair and depression at her confinement but looks forward with anticipation to the impending visit from Paul. Though much of the film has a strong impact, the sequences in which Camille pleads with her doctor (Robert Leroy) and with Paul for her release reach the heights of Dumont's consummate artistry.
In spite of the fact, however, that the head doctor feels she could be re-integrated into society, her mother and self-absorbed brother ignore her pleas and refuse to relinquish their tight control. Though Camille's paranoia is evident in these scenes (she insists on preparing her own food for fear of being poisoned), the power of Ms. Binoche's performance allows Camille's intelligence and true stature as an artist to shine through. Austere and unforgiving in the mold of Alain Cavalier's Therese, Camille Claudel, 1915 can be compared to the films of Robert Bresson in its long silences, spiritual depth, and uncompromising integrity. Viewing can be a harrowing and uncomfortable experience, but the same can also be said about many great works of art.
