Seraphine: Critic Reviews

Moreau is bewitching -- she simply breathes her role, without a hint of vanity.

The energies of Seraphine are devoted to examining the alchemy by which perception is transformed into vision.

Seraphine is a deceptively subtle tale.

A measured, soulful and tactile work; a film with gouache beneath its fingernails.

To look at the almost religious ecstasy on Moreau's face is to feel the artist's passion and be inspired by it.

Seraphine may be one of the spookiest, most unsettling films ever made about the hazy line between art and madness. That's a theme the movies have done to death, yet it finds new life in the title performance by Yolande Moreau.

Lyrical but bracing.

Seraphine is one of the most evocative films about an artist I've ever seen -- and in its treatment of madness one of the least condescending.

Seraphine arrives from France as the year's most honored film, winner of seven Cesars from the French Academy, including best film and best actress.

Provost and cowriter Marc Abdelnour explore the mutable boundaries between spirituality, naivete, genius, and madness, showing how the two outsiders and polar opposites cultivated a mutual understanding.

The character's fleeting success in the art world, her moody naivete and childlike reverence for both the natural and religious worlds, is conveyed with such tenderness and totality that it's almost heartbreaking to behold.

What makes this slow, intense film so compelling is its persuasive creation of complex characters: You scarcely believe Moreau is an actor and that the film isn't, on some level, archival footage of the real painter.

The film is a commendably worthy endeavor, and I am almost ashamed that my ingrained hedonistic attitude toward movies prevents me from recommending Seraphine more enthusiastically.

A naive, between-the-wars French painter is brought to vivid life in the satisfying fact-inspired drama Seraphine.

French filmmaker Martin Provost's fictionalized biopic Seraphine introduces the painter to generations that never knew her.

Yolande Moreau plays the industrious but touched washerwoman-turned-painter Seraphine de Senlis with an open-faced conviction that is almost unnerving in its intensity.

Director Martin Provost has brought the true story of Seraphine de Senlis to to the screen with elegant simplicity. A gorgeous film to watch, thanks to cinematographer Laurent Brunet, the pastoral settings are especially satisfying.

Relies heavily on Moreau's gripping, continually surprising performance to effectively convey the oracular urgency and fractured, Dionysian mentality of Seraphine de Senlis and her work.

Yolande Moreau is a revelation in the title role; a part she plays without vanity and sneaking humour.

The characterization is deft, the acting is superb, and the production values are high. If there's a dryness to the way the story is told, that's because director Martin Provost has shifted his focus toward intellectual, not emotional, satisfaction.

Moving historical drama brings a fascinating chapter of art history to life.

The long French tradition of thoughtful, intelligent films of quality for adults is alive and well here, and that is reason to rejoice.

Gives testimony to the human spirit.

Engrossing, well-shot bio-pic ... which won seven Cesars, including Best Picture, from the French Academy in 2008, has a gorgeous antique look and a surfeit of empathy. A lovely, lingering film.

It's like reading the introductory essay in an exhibition catalogue, except that it takes two hours. Personally, I couldn't stop thinking of Susan Boyle on Britain's Got Talent.