Thursday, April 21, 2005

girl with a pearl earring

after reading the book, and being in a desperate search for a movie to watch, I decided to rent the adaptation of "girl with a pearl earring" by Tracy Chevalier.
the book was great and although it was an invented story around the life of Vermeer and especially, the famous painting by the same name, it could have been real. The historical accuracies imerges the reader into 1600's Holland and how life would have been at that time for a maid and for a painter who is an artist with the responsability to sell himself to deep-pocketed patrons in order to bring food to the table. It was also interesting to imagine the story behind this eye-catching masterpiece, as when one starts looking at it, one can not stop asking "who is she?", "what is she thinking?", "what's can you see through those eyes?"....
The movie did a pretty good job at translating the historical atmosphere of the time, and the tension between Vermeer and his maid, Griet played by hot Scarlett Johannson. The only thing that ticks me, and then, it makes sense at the same time, is that most of her screen acting is to look identical to the painting all through out the movie, and by that I mean having the wide-eyed stunted-looked face everytime someone looks or speaks to her. It makes sense because, in the book too, it went with the character. A shy poor respectable girl in a world where she doesn't quite belong but with the tension that exists between two special souls that can understand each other on a different level.
the thing that bothers me about it is that it makes the painting less exceptional in a way because it means that she wasn't caught and painted in a very special moment that happens once over 1/1000 of a second, but everyday, all the time. It would mean that he saw her as she was rather than seeing through her, as Scarlet says about it in the movie.
Anyway, that's being a bit fussy about it, and I will keep liking the movie, not quite like the book and not for a million years like the painting itself.
Amis poetes, bonsoir....

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