Directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot
Starring Pablo Picasso
MPAA Rating: Not Rated
Runtime: 78 minutes
Available from Kino Lorber now

by Clayton Hayes with Dr. Caitlin Glosser

This was actually not my first time watching the documentary The Mystery of Picasso. The 4K restoration (presumably the same restoration on this recent Kino Lorber/Milestone Film & Video Blu-ray release) received a limited theatrical release in 2018 and I was lucky enough to catch it while it played at the nearby Detroit Institute of Arts. My eye for cinema and for art has, I hope, developed a lot since then (notably I’m now married to an Art Historian, who watched this film with me and helped shape my thinking on a number of points) so I was excited to have a chance to rewatch this film.

I have to say, even with foreknowledge, it’s hard not to be impressed by the craft involved in putting this film together. After a brief introduction, we’re confronted by a blank white screen which covers the entire frame. Then, by no apparent mechanism, lines begin to appear on the screen. This effect of ink being painted on the screen is pretty marvelous, and it begs the audience to ask how it’s being done. The answer is withheld for a full half an hour but, when revealed, the setup is suitably impressive (Picasso on one side of a semi-opaque sheet of paper, a camera on the other). There’s also a delightful transition about halfway through the film when the aspect ratio nearly doubles in width to accommodate larger works.

The paintings are filmed in color and Picasso (intentionally for the film or no, I’m not sure) sticks to bright, vivid shades that really jump off the screen. The art itself, I’m told, seems to be Picasso riffing on his “greatest hits,” incorporating favorite subjects and styles while also dropping in a few possible references to his contemporaries. It’s an interesting documentation of artistic process, too, especially as the film progresses and the work becomes more involved. We see limbs adjusted, outlines changed, and entire sections painted and re-painted as Picasso works to find a composition he’s happy with. It’s a fascinating journey that would be nearly impossible to discern from a finished work.

The film does lose a bit of its magic as Picasso transitions from using ink on paper, which dries quickly and could be filmed more or less in real time, to oil paints which dry more slowly. One of the great attractions of the film up to that point is watching the ink as it applied, and the work in oils had to be filmed via much more mundane timelapses. One of the few times Clouzot and Picasso speak it is to point out that an oil painting that’s come together over the past few minutes of film took around 5 hours to produce.

The music also has to be addressed as Auric’s score felt, for the most part, overpowering and distracting. The first sketch we see is accompanied only by the sound of brush on paper, and part of me wishes that had been the case throughout. Aside from jazzy pieces accompanying some of the more abstract works and Spanish guitar and vocals for works featuring matadors and bulls, the music doesn’t seem to have much connection with what the audience is seeing. One of the great benefits of viewing The Mystery of Picasso at home was that I could turn the volume down to less deafening levels, something that was not possible in the theater.

To me, the film also doesn’t seem sure if it should be holding Picasso in reverence or hiding him behind a curtain. Clouzot’s opening monologue sets the stage with Picasso as a monolithic figure and a genius, an idea echoed in the film’s title. What we see of the filming location is indeed very stage-like, with Picasso and his canvas almost spotlit in a dark studio. Auric’s bombastic score makes it feel as though every stroke of the brush is a momentous event. At the same time, the film goes out of its way to show the art and hide the artist. Unlike its predecessors, such as Jackson Pollock 51 (dir. Hans Namuth, 1951) and A Visit to Picasso (dir. Paul Haesaerts, 1949), which filmed through glass panes as they were being painted on, this film keeps the artist obscured from view. We only see Picasso himself painting on one occasion, during the reveal of the filming setup, and even then he has his back to the camera. It’s an interesting source of tension that was never quite resolved.

In the end, The Mystery of Picasso is a unique and fascinating work of filmmaking which, coupled with its portrayal of artistic process, makes for a surprisingly engaging watch.