Word: vuillards
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...failing to become the academic painter he was never suited to be. Three years later, he was back in Ostend, making highly capable portraits, still lifes and domestic interiors and looking very likely to end up a lifelong observer of the bourgeois home front, a Belgian equivalent of Vuillard or Bonnard...
Abel and Junon Vuillard (Jean-Paul Roussillon and Catherine Deneuve) convene their three grown children (Anne Consigny, Mathieu Amalric, Melvil Poupaud) and their kids for the sort of holiday games you'll find in many family reunions: musical beds, generational scores-settling and the ripping off of psychic scabs. Amid all the melodrama - Junon has liver cancer and needs a bone-marrow transplant from someone of her blood - the conversation is bantering, often affectionate. In this chatty 2-1/2hr. film, Desplechin (Kings and Queen) seems to be going for the old French New Wave recipe of emotional warmth...
...toys and kitchen tables, she could remind you sometimes of Bonnard, the French homebody who found paradise in his own kitchen and an iridescent grotto in his wife's bath. For all her overflowing manner, Murray was what the French call an intimiste, a painter, like Bonnard or Vuillard or even Matisse, who takes the modest precincts of domestic life as a perfectly good place to make art. Then, if they can, they floodlight the room with whatever it is we mean by genius. This is what Murray did. And she did it again and again...
...Edouard Vuillard and Paul Gauguin are an odd couple: one famous for his depictions of drawn-curtain bourgeois interiors, the other for bare-breasted Polynesian reveries. But the link between them is direct. In 1889, Vuillard joined a band of fellow art students who called themselves Les Nabis - "prophets" in Hebrew and Arabic. Their credo was "the simplification of form and the exaltation of color," and their guru was Gauguin. Now, the two artists are sharing the same roof, in a superb pair of exhibits at the Grand Palais that round off a blockbuster fall art season in Paris...
Like his artistic ancestor Chardin or his fellow Nabi Edouard Vuillard, Bonnard was an Intimist. He cared nothing for heroic or historical themes. He had no public life, and his diary was filled not with reflections on art, life or politics but with pencil sketches and occasional notes on the weather. Nor did art theory, avidly debated among some of his painter friends, interest him much...