Dir. Paul Morrison, UK, 2008, 112 mins
Cast:
Robert Pattinson, Javier Beltrán, Matthew McNulty
Review by Richard Mellor
Behind every great artist it seems there must be a tortured soul. So it predictably proves in Little Ashes, at least, as Paul Morrison's drama reveals the woes which haunted Spanish artisans and contemporaries Salvador Dalí, Federico García Lorca and Luis Buñuel throughout their lives.
In fact Buñuel (Matthew McNulty) is largely peripheral, being there more to morally object and be repulsed by the irrepress ible love that forms between Dalí (Rob ert Pattinson) and García Lorca (Javier Beltrán) at their mutual university rather than have the roots of his own art examined. The final few scenes aside, there's equally scant attention given to the stellar, subversive artistic movements – save for a mention of Cubism here, or a reference to the Surrealists there.
No – instead Little Ashes is very much the tale of a romance, a giddy, epic and illicit romance, which was revealed during interviews Dalí gave in his last years. The little art on show is attributed to this amour: when García Lorca reads verse, it's softly to Dalí; the painter's canvases are inspired by the poet. Muses though they may be, their love is impossible however, coming in a cloying age of religious conservatism and the violent sup press ion of revolution and left-wing sentiment by Franco.
Because of that, Pattinson and Beltrán must convince of their union via prolonged gazes, shy pauses and tense conversations, and they do it well, aided by Philippa Goslett's subtle screenplay. In both characters that artistic deliverance is balanced by a deep sense of moral shame. But when finally a moment of physical contact does arrive – a kiss while swimming in Catalunya – it's beautifully shot from underneath, the pairs' kicking legs enlivening a dancing sea of silvery-blue light.
Appropriately in a film about artists, such pretty imagery is a regular occurrence. Morrison follows the young headstrong painter and the slightly older, calmer García Lorca from sleepy Madrid streets to glorious Andalucian groves. And inspired perhaps by his part-Spanish crew, the director lends Little Ashes a somewhat Iberian style, utilising wide shots, a keen eye for detail and a rather languid pace.
Not that the Anglo-Spanish partnership is a total success. Morrison's actors hail from both countries but speak English in Spanish accents (dubious in Pattinson's case): save for untranslatable words - “ duente ” - which are lovingly flexed in their native tongue. Confused? It gets worse. For when García Lorca reads poetry, he jumps back to Spanish, only with him also performing an English voiceover; the consequent noise clash sadly renders the gorgeous words close to inaudible.
After making millions of female hearts flutter as the hero vampire in Twilight, Pattinson does well enough here as another timeless figure, with Dalí's aggressive radicalism masking an inner loneliness. The artist feels a bit too maverick though - crazy clothes, avant-garde outbursts in polite society, a wisp-thin moustache – as though actor and/or director are trying too hard to paint an eclectic picture. Beltrán is calmer, but also far duller, as the steadier of the two.
While it may not win acting prizes, and indeed while it's a little short on excitement, Morrison's third feature-lengther (the two previous have been critically acclaimed, but little-seen) excels in painting a vivid picture of a pivotal age, and you can powerfully feel his and Goslett's enthusiasm for their protagonists in every scene, and every word. Whatever the language.
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