Cézanne et Moi

Cézanne et Moi is at its most intoxicating whenever it looks and acts like a landscape painted by its title 19th-century French artist.

Cézanne et moi alternates between frustrating and engaging, but there is no doubt that its soberness in the face of luxury and genius, and its fidelity, despite some slight shallowness, linger on.

Cézanne et Moi sounds more fascinating than it actually is; essentially, it’s just under two hours of exquisitely art-directed conversation, little of which is especially compelling.

The film gains power in the final third...one wishes Thompson had chosen to view the great artist's lives through the eyes of the women who loved (and tolerated) them

The cinematic equivalent of calendar art.

The cinematography’s sumptuous, but pacing is very stop-start. Worse, there’s an aura of male entitlement, fuelled by the script’s uncritical reverence of its flawed philanderers.

The film barely even scratches the surface of the animating force of Cézanne and Zola's lives: their art.