Financial Times Europe - 04.04.2020 - 05.04.2020

10 ★ FT Weekend 4 April/5 April 2020

emotional tempera-

ture that increases the

power ofthe main subject”.

Clark’ssense that people during

crises crave something visionary and

affecting, not“realistic painting ofany

kind”, made me wonder about recent

transformations oflandscape into art.

Landscape was not pertinentfor major

postwar artists, whose themes were

existential, man’s relationship with him-

self(Giacometti, Bacon, Freud)or about

society (Warhol, Gerhard Richter). But

in the past three decades, underlying the

work ofthe most significant artists are

motifsofnatureasbrutaland beyond

our control. On canvas, the sensibility

was heralded by the late work ofCy

Twombly,who in the 1990s, in Franc-

esco Clemente’s lovely phrase,“sailed

awayfrom history into geography”,to

produce abstracted pastorals as Baccha-

nalian outpourings or wintry deluges,

most famously “The Four Seasons”.

Painting since the 1990s presents an

enticing, aghast subversion oflandscape

beauty, eloquent in anxious times. Peter

Doig made his name that decade with

depictions ofcanoes semi-submerged in

swamps, and the“Concrete Cabin”

series, where the order and reason of Le

Corbusier apartment blocks is engulfed

by rampantforests,forces ofchaotic

nature dissolvingman-made structures.

Doig cast huge influence, mostfertilely

on Adrian Ghenie, Romanian maestro of

dystopian scenography — “The Hunter”,

a writhing half-indecipherable mass

subsumedby nature, was the titlework

in hisjust-closed exhibition at St

Petersburg’s Hermitage; “The

Drowning”, a swollen decomposed

body sunken on rampant seaweed,

was the showpiece of his “Between

Carnival and Feast”at last year’s

Venice Biennale.

The piece that won Venice

2019 ’s Golden Lion, Lina Lape-

lyte’s “Sun & Sea (Marina)”, isa

beach landscape with a differ-

ence — afaux seaside scene

activatedbybikini-cladper-

formers, lethargic, hedonistic,

yet singing in increasingly

doomed tones of environmen-

taldisaster.Thesense of some-

thing sinister, even diseased,

within naturalbeauty, creeping

up and overwhelming us, gives

potent impact to work ranging

from the depictions oforgiastic

monster rabbits in wild painterly

landscapes that launched Cecily

Brown’s career, also in the 1990s, to

the hybrid aquatic/animal/human

forms lurking in toxic/gorgeous set-

tings evokedby RaqibShaw,beginning

with his “Garden of Earthly Delights”,

executed with a porcupine quill in the

refined detail ofminiatures.

Shaw is hugely ambitious for his

minuscule marks:“In looking at my

work, I want peopletobelieve in the

possibility of transcendence, that base

metal might be turned into gold,”he has

said. It is the eternal hope ofartists. My

choice of “Work of the Day” from the

Louvre would be Poussin’s“Et in Arca-

dia Ego”, which lucidly lays out the

stakes for uniting man, nature and art.

In a sunny southern spring scene, three

young shepherdsanda girl,who started

off carefree as any group of strollers in

the park, come across a tomb inscribed

“Et in Arcadia Ego”— assumed(an ear-

lier version includes a skull) to be Death

speaking:“Even in Arcadia, I am there”.

Youth,asishappening today,issud-

denly confronted with the shock of mor-

tality amid abundant naturefull of

promise ofgrowth and life. One shep-

herd answers byfollowingwith hisfin-

ger the shadow ofhis companion

thrown on the tomb — referringto the

ancient tradition claimingthat the art of

paintingwas discovered in the tracingof

afigure’s shadow. Death rules in nature,

but cannotdestroyart—asthis painting

bears witness. But what is mostgripping

in Poussin’s exquisitely blended lumi-

nous atmosphere, envelopingfigures

andlandscape is thewaythe quartet

answer each other’s movements,

respondone to another, as eachcomes

to termswiththenewawareness. “Etin

Arcadia Ego”is about tragedy, stoicism,

but also the strength and hope ofhuman

sympathy in theface offear.

Ithasasenseofsomething

sinister,evendiseased,in

nature’sbeauty,creeping

upandoverwhelmingus

C

an you have too much ofa

badthing?Itmightseem

tactless, even tasteless, to

askthat in a pandemic-

ridden world. Butbadthings

often makegood cinema.“Apocalypse

now, please, and as colourful as

possible.”And there’s an unerring,if

unintended, topicality inat leasttwo

films thatgive hell on Earth a vibrant

2020 AD vision.

One wehave recently experienced:a

full-screenfresco,fulsomely praised by

some, ofthefirst world war. To 1917 now

addThePaintedBird, anothergorging

tale ofEuropean Armageddon, set in the

lastmonthsofthesecondworldwar.

Filmslikethis are agenre alltheir

own. They are notjust“war movies”but

essays in the open-endedcyclical.We

knowhowthosehistoricalconflicts

actuallyended.But theaimof their

screendramatisationsistomakeusfeel

we don’t. That there is no end; that war

or contagion, cosmic calamity ordysto-

pianfuture-worlds are a rollingnight-

mare withone theme engenderingnear-

imitlessvariations.

Think ofthe music analogy. Mostfea-

turefilms adopt, or attempt, a sonata-

style story structure. They are sym-

metried approximations ofA, B, C, B, A:

intro, subject(s), development, return of

subject(s),final echo ofintro. But what

we couldcallODTAA movies, One Damn

ThingAfter Another(with acknowledg-

menttothenovelODTAAbyJohnMase-

field), are the exact equivalent ofa

theme-and-variationsin music.Hereas

there, the structure is A, B(a),C(a),D(a)

—andon throughthealphabet.

What purposedoes this structure

serve in cinema? That ofsuggesting

thereisno conclusion; that eachnew

episodeismiredin the same mudand

soakedin the sameblood;that the

wheels ofsufferingturn eternally; that

hellonEarthisnot Sartre’shuis clos

(“closed doors”)but an ever-open vista

withno exit or vanishingpoint.

1917 conveyedthisby simulatinga

seamless imageflow:no apparent

“cuts”.It’sapowerfulfilm, even ifthe

vice ofSam Mendes’s story structure

sometimes seems the sameasitsvirtue:

“When is thisgoingto end?”In the

movie’s second half, episodesgazump

eachother into an exhaustedimplausi-

bility(who canforgive that umpteen-

foot-high waterfall inflat-as-a-football-

field Flanders?)The stronger section is

the start, withan ineluctablebacktrack-

ingcamera exposingthe Hadean infin-

ity, at once hellish and quotidian, ofthe

trench-warinferno.

It’s an irony that ThePaintedBird, a

film supremely ifadventitiously suited

to a pandemic-smitten age, should have

had its release delayed by that event(in

the UK at least). Adaptedfrom Jerzy

Kosinski’s 1965 novel by Czechfilm-

maker Vaclav Marhoul,itlaidwaste

severalspectators at the Venice Film

Festivalwithitsgraphic violence and

in-your-eyeballsbrutalism. Rape;goat-

beheading;aGloucester-ishblinding;

more rape.

Thefilm will be with us, like life’sres-

toration(we hope),inafew months. It’s

the definitionof theme-and-variations

cinema. A youngboy(Petr Kotlar)

strives to survivein rural eastern

Europe at the end ofthe second world

war. His existencegains a sense ofdysto-

pian infinitudefrom the black-and-

white photography—noaudience-

cossetingeven in the visuals—andby

the rollingchapters oftruth-based his-

torical assault. Nazismfollowed by

domestic anarchyfollowed by Soviet

invasion. A plague on allyourhouses.

Andaplaguevisitingallyourhouses.

For those ofus penned in our homes

by a true 21st-century plague,“going”

to the pictures is nolonger an option.

But seeingpictures in our sittingrooms

is; and may become, ifit is not already,

the mostdarkly compulsiveleisure

option ofall.

Who couldresist thegestalttherapy

ofrelivinginfilm orfiction the perdition

we experiencefor real? Viruses inocu-

late against viruses. Thegreatest mass-

infection movies teach us endurance,

resource, savinghumour, survival(per-

haps). They are the life and soul of

theme-and-variationsscreendrama.

Here,for your must-watch list, arefive

of the best:

Death in Venice (1971)

Visconti’s cholera opera has longueurs,

but the doom unfolds in supra-elegant

surroundings. Bear withthe maudlin

use ofthe adagiettofrom Mahler’sFifth:

sonic wallpaperfor masochists. For

reward you get Dirk Bogarde’s

primpingly tragic,darkly comical

Aschenbach.

Night ofthe LivingDead (1968)

Zombificationisfilmdom’s f un virus.It

may befrighteningwhen it starts, espe-

ciallyinthegraveyardintro to GeorgeA

Romero’s subgenre-seedingclassic. But

bytheendwe start whoopingandhol-

lering—faintly at least — as the cull

takesflamboyant effect.

The Masque ofthe Red Death (1964)

Vincent Price stars; Roger Corman

directs; Nicolas Roegphotographs. How

yummy is that? A pestilence sweeps the

landinavelvet-texturedmedieval

horror-wallow.Resemblances toPoe’s

story arelargely coincidental.Hewould

surely applaud,though,the atmosphere

ofsickly luxuriant morbidity.

The Seventh Seal (1957)

The best ofearly Bergman.The lateMax

von Sydowgave plague cinema agood

name as theknightincombat with

Death. We’re in the Middle Ages. It’s

mortal-illness time.But howthis

theme-and-variationsglistens withthe

scouringpoetry ofapocalypse.

The Host (2006)

SouthKoreanOscar-winner Bong-Joon

Ho’s 2006 horrorfilm, streaked with

wit, couldswap titles withParasite.A

pollution-spawnedmonster roamsa

city’sriver.Ifyou kill the host, there is

stillthe stored-inside virus. Funny,grim

andmischievouslyprophetic.

Life and art. Death and art. Art cyclical

andart sempiternal.Where wouldwe

be without this ceaseless, unsleeping

handmaiden to thehuman story?

When the worst of times inspires the best of cinema

Vaclav Marhoul’s ‘The Painted Bird’

has an ‘in-your-eyeballs’ brutalism

SCREEN

SHOTS

NIGEL ANDREWS

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NDREEEEWWWWWSSSSS

The forces

of nature

unleashed

Painting |Unsettling

momentsinhistoryinspire

artthatsubvertspastoral

idyllsandevokesnatural

chaos.ByJackie Wullschläger

W

hat art, past or present,

might now enlighten

or console?

The NationalGallery

hasfaced this question

before, during the second world war. Its

collection had been movedfor safekeep-

ing to a slate mine in Wales but, follow-

ing a letter in The Times pleading that

“because London’sface is scarred and

bruised these days, we need more than

ever to see beautiful things”, one worka

monthwas allowedbackto the capital.

The gallery’s then director, Kenneth

Clark, recorded that“Ihavereceiveda

large number ofsuggestions. These

make it particularly clear that people do

not want to see Dutch painting or realis-

tic painting ofany kind: no doubt. ..

they are anxious to contemplatea

nobler order ofhumanity. The two that

have been most often askedfor are the

El Greco ‘Agony in the Garden’ and the

Titian‘Noli me Tangere’.”

In 1942 this Titian became thefirst-

ever “PictureoftheMonth” —atradi-

tion that has continued ever since,with

discussions at thegallery open to the

public. It has inspired similar formats,

including theLouvre’s“Work ofthe

Day”,nowlaunchedon Twitter.

As our cultural lives move online,

withexpanding digital offeringsfffrom

museums around the world, “Noli me

Tangere” by chance stars once more—

this time on ourscreens. The National

Gallery website currently gives promi-

nence and detailed exploration to the

latest six“Pictures of theMonth”,and

the Titian paintinghappened to be

selectedagain in October.

Itsmomentisnow.Itsnarrativeoffor-

biddenhumancontact has enormous

resonance, aslove,loss andtranscend-

ence are conveyedthroughintensely

stirringgestures offorbidden touch.

Against aglowingsunset, Titiandepicts

the instant when Mary Magdalene,hav-

ingtended the crucified body and then

mistaken Christfor thegardener, sees

thathe is risenfrom the dead, reaches

out tohim andunderstands, ashe

recoils, theheartbreakingtruththat the

touch oflove is no longer allowed. She is

posedhorizontally,boundto the earth;

he is upright, hisform echoed by the

treebehindhim — risingtoheaven.

Christians read redemption, but most

viewers today are not Christian;for us,

beauty and comfort lie in the treatment

ofnature united to thefigures. Titian’s

friend Pietro Aretino described how the

lone, large tree “pushes back the air”; it

also prolongs the expressive outline of

the Magdalene’s pose, which in turn is

echoed by the curves of the rolling hills.

Asinhis“Poesie”paintings — now shut-

tered within the National Gallery after

just one week on display in its exhibition

Titian: Love, Desire, Death—the artist

gives“Noli me Tangere”spirit andforce

through the landscape. The blue shadow

ofChrist’s shroud brings the sky down to

earth, the last rays ofsun illuminate

both the Magdalene’s

hairand the distant

grazingsheep —a

harmony of the

humanandnatural.

Withworkslike

this, Titian revolu-

tionisedthedepic-

tion, and uses, ofthe

pastoral. Centuries

before landscape

paintingfor its own

sakeevolved,hecre-

ated what Clark

called“landscapes of

heightened percep-

tion, raisedtoanew

Clockwise from main:

Raqib Shaw’s ‘Arrival of the

Horse King’ (2011-12); Adrian

Ghenie’s ‘The Drowning’ (2019);

Peter Doig’s ‘White Canoe’ (1990-

91); Poussin’s ‘Et in Arcadia Ego’

(1637-38)— White Cube; Thaddaeus Ropac Gallery;

Peter Doig. DACS 2020/Michael Werner Gallery; Alamy