ONCE deemed pornographic, Gustav Klimt's golden, mosaic-like paintings of sensuous women and ecstatic couples are no longer shocking. But for writer-director Raúl Ruiz, they offer a window into a pivotal time in history.
In "Klimt," opening Friday, Ruiz evokes the paintings' shimmering surfaces and delves beneath them to capture the opulence and uncertainty of early 20th century Vienna. Starring John Malkovich as Klimt, the film begins as the artist is dying of syphilis in 1918 and proceeds in hallucinatory fashion through the last 18 years of his life. Ruiz, 66, who has made more than 50 films in the last 20 years in Chile and Europe, firmly established himself as a cinematic maverick with his use of nonlinear storytelling, dramatic color effects and unexpected points of view, and his work here is inspired by the fragmented, circular narratives of Austrian writer Arthur Schnitzler -- a Klimt contemporary. In other words, it's not the usual biopic.
Ruiz describes the film as a fantasy. "Klimt is dying. He remembers his life, but it's maybe not exactly his life. . . he was wondering what should be his life."
What emerges is a portrait of a successful yet conflicted painter whose challenging, psychologically complex work embodied the birth of the modern era. Yet he was, says Ruiz, "the opposite of the revolutionary artists that we see all the time in cinema. He's not a revolutionary artist in the sense of Picasso . . . that tried to destroy and create new forms. He [was] trying to make connections." (He definitely connected with the art world after his death: Last year, his 1907 portrait of Austrian socialite Adele Bloch-Bauer fetched $135 million, unseating a Picasso for the highest published price for a work of art sold at public auction.)
The Klimt conjured by Ruiz is an artist caught between the lure of commercial success and his creative freedom. Pulled by opposing forces in his personal life as well, he lived with long-term partner, Emilie Flöge (played by German actress Veronica Ferres) for many years while indulging in myriad affairs, most often with his models. Although it is not depicted in the film, Ruiz learned in his research that when Klimt died, 40 people came forward claiming to be his heirs.
"He's not a moral icon," says Ruiz. "He's far from that, but he has something that I like: the way he tried to make his work as best as he can, knowing that he will go inside of all kinds of contradictions."
