A film about the creative process might just have been the perfect start for this year’s SXSW. Stepping back into Paris, 1964, Final Portrait explores art in another era. We follow famed painter and sculptor Alberto Giacometti as he sloths about his studio, face sullen, piling new layers of clay onto months-old busts, trashing others because the final form feels off, and with stacks upon stacks of paintings and drawings piled high in every direction. But bumping into old friend James Lord puts a smile on his face, Giacometti invites the visiting American critic to his studio to paint his portrait. What could go wrong?
Witnessing the inner working of Giacometti’s process – and rather chaotic life – at first Lord is flattered and enthused by the opportunity. But when days become weeks, and weeks become months with still no end in sight, when Giacometti paints over much of the work with white paint so as to start again, Lord finds himself looking for ways to speed things up, and force Giacometti’s hand to completion.
A film about an auteur, by an auteur, the meticulous level of detail in Giacometti’s process is matched by Tucci’s capture of the story. It is a film patiently told, even if that directly contradicts Giacometti’s own erratic, tortured style, with Armie Hammer’s Lord absorbing everything thrown at him. It creates a compelling examination of the creative process, in equal parts agonising and it is engaging, all intentional by craftsman Stanley Tucci, for whom this has been a long-term passion project.
Geoffrey Rush superbly portrays Giacometti as a tortured, frustrating character, with Hammer as suave and sophisticated as you’d expect sitting on the other side of the easel. Sylvie Testud and Clémence Poésy are particularly brilliant too, respectively playing Giacometti’s wife and lover, and sharing a remarkable amount of time on-screen together.
I would normally say a film is darkly comic, but this is more darkly amusing. Final Portrait is a smart, intense and meticulous examination of the int angibles of the creative process, written with wit and performed with class. And I think a whole lot more enjoyable than to play Giacometti’s muse, with no end in sight.