The Agony and the Ecstasy

Starring: Charlton Heston, Rex Harrison

Release: 1965

Through the lens of modern art history, watching The Agony and the Ecstasy is a strange experience. Centered on Michelangelo's relationship with Pope Julius II, for whom he painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the film purports to present historical accuracy, but just as often as it pleases, it disappoints. Ordinarily, I wouldn't get too offended by a filmmaker's historical revisionism, but when a film sets itself up as a historical record, it opens itself up to those criticisms. The Agony and the Ecstasy tries to blend its fictional representation into fact – so much so that the film opens with a twelve minutes documentary about Michelangelo's birth and early tutelage under Lorenzo de' Medici in Florence, showing chronological facts of his life alongside interpretations of his sculpted works. From this sort of prologue, the film transitions to footage of the marble quarries in Carrara, not as they existed in 1965 but as they existed in Michelangelo's day, and then to the plot of the film. It establishes the film as a continuation of the established facts.

Some of the representations are refreshing in their accuracy. Charlton Heston's Michelangelo and Rex Harrison's Julius exhibit a compelling simultaneous disdain and admiration for one another, a complexity that is clear in the historical documents of the time and in the brilliant work that the pope inspired in -- and forced out of -- the artist. It was for the pope that Michelangelo created not only the ceiling but also the brilliantly sculpted Moses of the pope's tomb. The tomb is the subject of much discussion in the film and, for those who know art history, is an almost tragic side note, as Michelangelo and the pope discuss the tomb's grandeur, the planned eventual forty sculptures, and a possible position beneath the dome of St. Peter's. In reality, the tomb contains very few sculpted pieces and was relegated to a church that is now primarily visited because of the Moses figure.

But impressive aspects set aside, the film repeatedly disappoints anyone who is watching it from an art history perspective. The representation of the architect Bramante's attempts to sabotage Michelangelo is compelling, but Raphael is definitely let off the hook in the situation. The film presents Raphael as quiet and hesitant, an unwitting beneficiary of Bramante's influence with Julius, when in reality, the two painters' rivalry and begrudging respect for one another are well known. The simultaneous painting of the Sistine Chapel and The School of Athens and the close proximity seems to have impacted both artists' work, but the film only shows that Michelangelo's genius affected Raphael – an omission that feels unfair to both artists.

The most disappointing element of the movie, however, is one that it probably isn't really fair of me to criticize; it's absolutely no fault of the filmmaker's. At the film's close, when the ceiling is finally revealed to the public (and the viewers) for the first time, Michelangelo's contemporaries are in awe, an experience that the swelling music and sweeping camera movements tell us we should share. But for modern film viewers, the scene will likely fall flat, and for one reason: when the ceiling was cleaned and restored between 1980 and 1994, the art history world was rocked by what they found. Everyone knew that centuries of candle smoke and soot had accumulated on the work, but no one realized just how vibrant the color of the paint was beneath. (just  look at the comparison shown here!). Regardless of whether you agree that the restoration should have occurred (indeed, there are many art historians who were outraged by it), everyone agrees that the appearance of the frescoes had changed dramatically since they were painted, and the ceiling we see now is much closer to what Michelangelo's contemporaries saw. So it feels strange when the film shows those very contemporaries in awe of the grimier version. It is, of course, logical, that the film can only show the ceiling as it existed in 1965, but for today's viewers it means that the entire film builds to a moment of disappointment – but in that disappointment exists a fascinating exercise in art history scholarship: a demonstration of the effects of the restoration that even photographs don't quite capture.

Don't miss the other blog posts in my series on movies about artists!

10 Movies You Should See About Artists:

• #10 - Andrei Rublev
• #9 - Lust for Life
• #8 - Goya's Ghosts
• #7 - Pollock
• #6 - Basquiat
• #5 - Girl with a Pearl Earring