945810_574623422579445_1973780122_nHaving delved triumphantly into the world of animation, director Fernando Trueba returns with The Artist and the Model, a film so beautifully arranged, that it doesn’t feel too far removed from the enchanting world which he created in the Oscar nominated Chico & Rita. Animated or not, the Spaniard evidently knows how to tell a story of two people coming together, and whether they be romantic or plutonic, they both have a similarly emotive effect on the viewer.

Though contemplating retirement alongside his wife Léa (Claudia Cardinale), elderly sculptor Marc Cros (Jean Rochefort) finds himself reinvigorated following the arrival of the young Spanish refugee Mercé (Aida Folch), discovering hope amidst the brutal World War that erupts in the distance. After she agrees to model nude for the sculptor, he feels sensually impassioned and enthusiastic about art for the first time in a good, long while.

We aren’t provided with any real back story to either Marc or Marcé, yet it doesn’t matter in this instance, as The Artist and the Model is so much about this spontaneous relationship, taking place in this particular time and place, and while they are both without context or prior knowledge, the audience learn about who they are as the other character does. It’s difficult to comprehend exactly what they get out of this kinship, but that’s the beauty of this tale, it’s an unspoken reinvigorating they both required from the other. On a more negative note, perhaps Marc’s marriage to Léa is not quite explored in enough depth, while at the risk of sounding like a philistine, Trueba treads a very thin line between what is considered as meaningful art and what is pure pretension. This can be accused of leaning towards the latter on occasion, growing tedious in parts.

Nonetheless, the black and white aesthetic provides this film with a classic feeling, entwining effectively with the wartime setting. The political undercurrent remains a subtle yet poignant backdrop though, without ever interfering with the narrative too imposingly, merely providing the viewer with some vital socio-political context. The monochrome approach also works well in that the things that always look majestic when captured in black and white, are old men and naked women. This film covers both bases extensively. Despite the vast amount of nudity on show, it never once feels seedy or gratuitous and instead always artistic, maintaining an integrity and grace as a result, as we celebrate the female form from the artist’s point of view.

The two lead performances are both equally as strong, while it’s always a pleasure to see Cardinale appear in a contemporary picture. Rochefort does steal the show however, though he is blessed with a fascinating role to work with – a rarity amongst elder actors in Hollywood, yet something of a regulation in European cinema. Marc’s perception of art is inspiring, as he explains certain aspects of the form – and life itself – so articulately and eloquently, giving it all a grander, overall meaning. He strives for perfection also, yet doesn’t quite know what perfection really is, and the audience feel his frustration.

Following on from the likes of Renoir and Summer in February, The Artist and the Model explores the relationship between an artist and their nude model, though this is by far the most accomplished and touching of the lot. Unlike the aforementioned titles, this revels in simplicity also, never biting off more than it can chew, providing a sophisticated and philosophical take on life, without feeling overbearing. Talking of philosophical, Marc says at one point, “There are two proofs that God exists – the first and most important, is the woman’s body”. In case you were wondering, the second proof is olive oil. So make of that what you will.

[Rating:4/5]