Isabelle Adjani at the edge of madness again (edge of petulance for a long time before that). A feminist lesson in art history, giving us to understand that the gifted protégée and mistress of Auguste Rodin would have been recognized as a greater sculptor than he if only she had produced a body of work to prove it (hadn't taken a sledgehammer to what body there was). The movie, dark, gray, cold, moves as nimbly as though it were balancing a Rodin bronze on its head; and it goes on that way for two and a half hours (twenty minutes less than in France, which may account for some of the missed steps). Good beard, haircut, hats, and coats on Depardieu as Rodin; one nice shot of Adjani's shoulders that almost feels sensual and sculptural. Directed by Bruno Nuytten. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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