Chinese translations of movie titles have long been unbearable for me. Obviously it is "Camille Claudel", but it was put on the hat of "Rodin's Lover". Here, in particular, it becomes a blow and an insult. The person Camille wants to get rid of in this life is Rodin. Does she want to be a lover? If so, then why should she leave, and why should she let herself go in vain! Another woman who rushes to the top in talent and personality, but fails to control her own destiny!
This is after La Double Vie de Véronique, once again incomparably fond of a French film. However, after watching Double Vie, I felt a sense of regret, and I felt something of life and soul. The high song of ancient Italian allowed me to see the sublimation of beauty and something that made me think for a long time. But after Camille Claudel was over, I was suddenly filled with sadness, pain, resentment, all of a sudden. Only then did I realize that I loved Camille so much, this real character. But she went to ruin, tossed and tortured in long agony. I really want to cry bitterly!
I know I started hating Rodin when he started kissing the posed Camille's bare shoulders.
Camille's talent for art is not my favorite. When I saw that in the dark, she was panting and secretly dredging mud with a shovel, putting it in a box, then picking it up decisively like a man, putting it on her right shoulder, and running into the studio in one breath, making tea, and Mud, creation, I feel the throbbing in my heart, as if I want to rush to embrace this familiar feeling. She pursues the passion she loves decisively and bravely, and she does things shrewdly and unambiguously. She didn't care what her family was like, what the women were like at that time, she only knew what she should do! Yes! I saw myself when she pursued sculpture with all that she had. So from that moment on I started to love her like siblings. Even if she pushed Rodin against the wall behind the wall, slid into his arms, and then kissed him without hesitation and lost everything, I felt, what a will she is! Dare to love, dare to hate, Camille can be said to be a selfish woman, but it is the kind of selfishness I greatly admire.
No blame, no complaints, though I'll always feel that a man like Rodin is never worthy of love, especially when he's twenty years older than her. She knew he was an old lover, a famous sculptor, in a position of fame and fortune, but when she knew she loved him, she was desperate.
But he doesn't belong to her. A woman who loves to the extreme usually can't stand this, especially when she has given him everything - body, soul, art, all surrendered to his love, and he says he can't get rid of other women. Part of it started to crash. The dust was falling down, piercing into the eyes, and it was painful. Weeping like a child, but dying like a journey of hate.
Therefore, the works created independently by Camille after that are full of coolness, loneliness, hatred, and struggle. Rodin also said she was "creating death, creating pain". But it's all because of him! He is just a layman, happy to be involved in the social arena, enjoying all kinds of fame and fortune. What does he have to give Camille her youth, her art, her life!
She was with cats; she hammered her own creations; she threw herself on that plaster statue and wept—the first time she met Rodin when she made it, she was brilliant, full of enthusiasm and ideals.
I will never forgive Rodin's alleged love for Camille, even if I see the following information:
In 1932, Eugène Blot wrote a letter to Camille, which mentioned her work "The Beggar", he Said: "One day, Rodin came to visit me, and I saw that he suddenly stopped in front of this statue, stared at it for a long time, stroked it gently, and cried. Yes, he cried, like a child. Today, 13 years after his death, Camille, I can say: the only person he truly loved was you..."
Un jour que Rodin me rendait visite, je l'ai vu soudain s'immobiliser devant ce portrait, le contempler, caresser doucement le métal et pleurer. Oui, pleurer. Comme un enfan. Voilà quinze ans qu'il est mort. En réalité, il n'aura jamais aimé que vous, Camille, je puis le dire aujourd 'hui...
Camille... The Camille who was walking in a hurry in the night, dressed in black but messy; the Camille with a long streamer and a beautiful straw hat; the one who was lying beside his brother and told him Poetry and the ideal Camille; the Camille who created it with Jessie, laughed with it, and fanned it together... It all flashed before my eyes when she was locked in the car on the way to the lunatic asylum. I know she's not crazy. When she wrote to her brother Paul in May and said those words, I knew she wasn't crazy. She is still the rational and intelligent one. It was only when she mentioned "Rodin was afraid of me going back, Rodin's trick" that I knew it must have been written to touch on the part of her that was destroyed.
When a woman's love is completely destroyed, all of her will be sent to destruction. I suddenly hated that ruthless society again. Camille, her art, is something only her father and Jessie really know.
Thanks to Isabelle Adjani, she is such a wonderful performer of such beauty.
View more about Camille Claudel reviews
