“Loneliness is the source of art”

Few individuals knew the crushing nature of loneliness quite like Paula Modersohn-Becker, whose life was filled with a rare kind of isolation, one where she was surrounded by a myriad of people, but where she could never find any sense of belonging, to the point where her premature death feels less like a tragedy, and more like the only way for her to escape the existential dread that followed her throughout her life. Her story has been committed to film in the form of Paula, in which director Christian Schwochow explores the 15 years between her rise as a young painter to her passing in 1907, focusing on several of the most important moments in her life, blending together her professional pursuits, which saw her become a revolutionary figure in the European art world (in which women were not given any meaningful opportunities) and her domestic life, which was a series of joyful and heartbreaking moments, this ebb and flow of emotions seemingly being definitive of her life as a whole. This film is a wonderful and meaningful ode to an artist who may not be particularly well-known outside of aficionados of early 20th-century art but is undoubtedly a story worth telling, her life being an extraordinary example of resilience and the power of artistic expression, which is quietly and subversively put together with nothing short of absolute tenderness by the director, who collaborates with screenwriters Stefan Kolditz and Stephan Suschketo turn this sad story into one of the most poignant celebrations of an artist we have seen in the past decade, a delicate but profoundly moving depiction of individuality and resistance in the face of adversity that seeks to dismantle one’s spirit. Paula is a truly compelling film, and a perfect example of what it means when we set out to showcase the power of art as not only a source of self-expression but also a method of psychological survival, with this story in particular being a strong statement in favour of finding the value in all forms of artistic endeavour.

There is a sub-genre of biographical film that usually takes a lesser-known artistic figure from the past, and dedicates a couple of hours to exploring their lives. Very often, these films tend to gravitate towards more unorthodox subjects, people whose lives were shrouded in tragedy and suffering, whether psychological or economic, using their stories as the foundation for the compelling and heartwrenching examination of socio-cultural standards. In this regard, Modersohn-Becker seems like a very worthy subject for several reasons – primarily, she is someone whose only flaw was being born a woman with talent, which was seen as a liability at the time since it was considered against the status quo for a woman to pursue a career in the arts. For a man to be a painter was elegant and interesting, but for a woman, it was vulgar and actively going against social standards, and thus worthy of the communal ire, which was distributed quite liberally in her lifetime, as shown throughout Paula, a film with many strong opinions and an even more distinct manner of conveying them. The conception for this story is obvious and quite simple – they intended to tell her story in the form of a lavish, detailed biographical account of her life, shedding light on her experiences and what she encountered during her tragically short but undeniably influential lifetime. The specific focus is her efforts to balance her artistic career with her personal life, especially through her marriage to Otto Modersohn, a far more respected but arguably less-gifted artist, as well as showing her efforts to battle the inner saboteur that constantly put her at odds with her psychological state, stirring up feelings of insecurity and despair, all of which compound to become a heavy burden on the shoulders of someone who simply wanted to paint the world around her, with particular focus on the people who inhabited it, which resulted in some of the most striking and beautiful works of art of this era, but where the story behind them was deeply sad, and the narrative foundation of this riveting biographical odyssey.

The process of casting the titular role in Paula could not have been easy, since it required an actor who could capture both the youthful curiosity that is so well-documented in Modersohn-Becker’s work, while also bringing a world-weary complexity, which usually comes with age and experience, neither of which we can say the character had in abundance during her short life. In this regard, the choice of Carla Juri was an inspired one – she is an actor who possesses incredible versatility (this film being made almost concurrently to her wonderful comedic performance in the urbane, profoundly modern Morris from America, is a staggering achievement), as well as a depth that allows her to capture every emotion felt by this character in vivid detail. There is a lot of heart that underpins this performance, and Juri captures all of it so vividly, never wasting an opportunity to develop some of the character’s most intriguing qualities, allowing this to not be yet another by-the-numbers biographical drama, the strength of her performance being the predominant reason this film is so captivating. She is joined by Albrecht Schuch as Otto, the painter who stole Modersohn-Becker’s heart and stood by her until her untimely death. Schuch doesn’t have a particularly large role, especially since he is off-screen for a considerable amount of time (particularly in the scenes where the main character is in Paris during her phase of trying to be independent), but he makes the most of the time he is present, turning in a complex, fascinating performance, playing a man who has to reconcile the fact that he deeply loves his wife, which comes into conflict with his feelings of inadequacy when he realizes that she is more gifted than he is, which causes some tension within their marriage. A film like Paula is not going to immediately evoke a strong reaction with its characterization, and much like everything else in the story, the true impact comes towards the end, where we encounter the accumulation of two hours of growing tension between these characters, which results in a powerful and shattering conclusion to their story, which is shown in vibrant, meaningful detail.

Alongside the broad narrative intentions, and the performances that anchor the story, the aspect that ties Paula together with such precision and neatness is the direction. Schwochow has been working for about two decades, making a handful of films that are not considered all that defining of a particular era, but are solid and reliable works that carry meaning and tell intriguing stories in their way. This is probably his most well-directed film if we are taking the formal elements into account, because if we take a glance, it seems like a conventional period drama, one that could be mistaken for using gorgeous landscapes and striking costumes as a distraction from the narrative, which some may consider quite thin at the beginning. However, the further we venture into this film, the clearer it becomes that Paula is a subversive and highly inventive work, with these aspects being subtly introduced as the film progresses. Schwochow is not interested in reinventing the genre, or even going against the grain in a significant way when it comes to the biographical drama as a style of storytelling. Instead, he aims to examine the subject and her life through well-defined conventions, which gradually become less prominent, making way for a slightly more freeform approach to the narrative. By the time we reach the final scenes in Paula, we notice a sense of unease and discomfort, despite the tone remaining relatively consistent throughout. The small changes to the atmosphere, as well as the shift in the design, are what drive this film and keep it fascinating – the locations become more ersatz, the costumes lose some of their colours and start to look more ill-fitting, and the score grows gradually more discordant. These are all minor details, and they may not even be noticed by those who simply want to watch this film to marvel at the design. Yet, any director who pays this much attention to not only bringing up these details but having them become a part of the storytelling as a whole, clearly has broader intentions that we can’t help but respect, especially when the results feel this thoroughly striking and captivating.

Paula is not a film that intends to misinterpret the life of the main character, nor use her experiences as the fodder for an overwrought, misguided attempt at stirring emotions in a way that is not at all compelling and simply exists to provoke particular sensations, which is an inexplicably common occurrence in recent years. Instead, it is a film that prides itself on its simple approach, knowing that for whatever it lacks in originality it more than makes up for in reliability, which is a valuable commodity in a genre that often feels as if it is folding in on itself when it isn’t handled by someone with a strong directorial vision. The subject of Paula may not seem enticing on a cursory glance, but once we find ourselves immersed in this story, it is clear to see precisely why this is such a special film – there is a level of detail that drives this story that is difficult to manufacture, and can only come from someone entirely committed to the narrative, which is certainly the case with a filmmaker like Schwochow, who sets out to tell this fascinating story, which has clearly captured his attention enough to result in this abundance of detail and thorough commitment to paying tribute to the subject, who is one of the more compelling figures of early 20th century art, not only for the impressive work she created, but also the life she led, which was filled with many challenges, but which she managed to overcome with her tenacity and fearlessness, both of which stood her in good stead as she navigated the treacherous social terrain that stood between her achieving her dreams or resigning to her fate as yet another anonymous European housewife suppressed by patriarchal standards. Beautifully moving and deeply intriguing, Paula is one of the more effective artistic biopics of recent years, and a film that pays sufficient tribute to someone truly deserving of having her story appreciated by modern audiences.