By Sandra Hall
THE DIVINE SARAH BERNHARDT ★★★½
(MA) 98 minutes
Before the arrival of the movie star, there was Sarah Bernhardt. Beloved by theatregoers the world over, she pioneered the art of celebrity as well as counting a Who’s Who of belle epoque artists and intellectuals among her many lovers.
The Divine Sarah Bernhardt tells the story of the woman who pioneered the art of celebrity.Credit:
At least this is the portrait that emerges from this richly decorated snapshot of her life’s high- and lowlights. The screenwriter, Nathalie Leuthreau, who came up with the idea, does admit to a degree of literary licence in drawing up the main plot line, which hinges on what she depicts as an enduring affair between Bernhardt (Sandrine Kiberlain) and the actor Lucien Guitry (Laurent Lafitte), whose fame almost matched her own.
It’s a highly histrionic romance, as was everything about Bernhardt – who delighted in her reputation as a “sacred monster” after the description was bestowed on her by Jean Cocteau – and Kiberlain doesn’t hold back.
The film opens with the deathbed scene from La Dame aux Camelias, with a grey-faced Kiberlain as Marguerite, calling piteously for Guitry’s Armand before expiring in his arms. Then comes an abrupt switch in tone as we go offstage to see her preparing to have her leg amputated after decades of knee pain. There’s no pathos at all in her eventual surrender to the anaesthetic. Instead, it’s preceded by a rapid flow of gallows humour and gales of raucous laughter.
The surgery is performed by Dr Samuel Pozzi (Sébastien Pouderoux), whose renown as elite Paris’ doctor of choice inspired John Singer Sargent to paint his portrait, and when she comes around, her coterie of equally famous friends are there to comfort and console. The painter Louise Abbéma and the playwright Edmond Rostand, who has dropped his work on Cyrano de Bergerac to be at her bedside, are occasional lovers, but Guitry is the one she lies waiting for.
Despite all the talk of grand passions and eternal devotion, it’s a rather chilly tale.Credit:
And it’s his son, Sacha Guitry (Arthur Mazet), who prompts the flashbacks that follow by persuading her to talk about her relationship with his father.
Despite all the talk of grand passions and eternal devotion, it’s a rather chilly tale. Kiberlain is fascinating to watch. It’s a high-octane performance composed of grand gestures, black jokes and imperious commands, artfully edged with hints of self-mockery, but even at her most intimate, Bernhardt remains a public figure, always alert to the impression she’s making, whether there’s anyone else in the room or not.
If there’s no audience, she’ll invent one. And when she decides to behave badly, as she does when her relationship with Guitry reaches its nadir, the presence of an audience only increases the volume.
This makes the film more appealing as a portrait of the time rather than Bernhardt herself. We get a glimpse of the intelligentsia’s conflicting attitudes to the Dreyfus affair as she urges Zola to take up Dreyfus’ defence, but this is the film’s only allusion to the courage and generosity she displayed during parts of her life.
It’s her addiction to the outrageous that mesmerises Leuthreau and director Guillaume Nicloux – the domestic menagerie of exotic animals, among them a pet puma and a boa constrictor, the luxuries she found necessary, both at home and abroad, and the capriciousness that coloured most of her relationships. The film’s most likeable character is her ruefully long-suffering butler, Pitou (Laurent Stocker).
There is plenty to enjoy here, but at times you feel as if you’re caught in a rapidly revolving roll-call of famous names, and I couldn’t stifle the suspicion that I was missing out on a better story unfolding just beyond the frame.
The Divine Sarah Bernhardt is in cinemas from today.
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