‘Edvard Munch’ or — Are You Ready, Eddie?

So last night I watched a masterpiece. The only problem is sometimes masterpieces can be a little hard to sell which, at first glance, is the case with Peter Watkins’ ‘Edvard Munch’ (1974). I mean, get a load of this — it’s a four hour Norwegian docudrama which recreates the early life of the ennui-stricken artist as he struggles not only to define his artistic style but also challenge the restrictions of a deeply conservative society, escape a childhood blighted by sickness and death and, ultimately, confront the impossibility of love and the infinite horror of existence. The shooting style is austere; there is no musical soundtrack, most noises being the the scraping of seats against wood as people sit and discuss the meaninglessness of life in Norwegian or cough violently as they die of consumption. Watkins never looks away from the pain of life or the horror in the artistic process.

Sounds like a load of fun, right?

What’s remarkable about Watkins’ film (more correctly it’s a TV movie) is that it IS fun. Okay, maybe fun is an exaggeration. After all, there’s only so many LOLS you can extract from existential angst. But what isn’t an exaggeration is just how compelling, captivating and exciting (yes, exciting) ‘Edvard Munch’ is. Watkins achieves this by providing a vast amount of context to not just Munch’s life and art but Norwegian and European society as a whole. Munch is working right on the cusp of modernity, everything is about to change: the Eiffel Tower has just been built; Tchaikovsky has died; Hitler is born. We are not just witnessing the shifting weather patterns of one man’s inner being but the realigning of an entire world. Munch is about to capture that shift, pull it into the realm of the visible so we can hold it up and look at it.

Watkins achieves this through a combination of voice-over and editing. The shooting style might scream (no pun intended) vérité, naturalism, realism but the way Watkins allows the images to glide into each other, correspond to each other, inform and speak to each other is an attempt to get inside Munch’s head, his perception. A moment becomes a memory which keeps rising back to the surface of thought, causing ripples in the Now. By getting so deep into Munch’s world it means that when he paints we have an insight into his creative process which detonates like an explosion. It’s a revelation.

The soundtrack is vital here, too. Even though there is no score or non-diegetic music the soundtrack here is sophisticated and complex. Sounds are detached from their sources and allowed to bleed into the following environments, completely altering meaning in the process or deepening sensations of nihilistic vertigo. The result is incredibly stimulating and compelling, impressive just not in its intended effect but also in its rigour and consistency.

‘Edvard Munch’ might seem heavy, serious, bleak and cerebral and it most undeniably is but it’s also extraordinarily fascinating, deeply insightful and compellingly watchable. Watkins’ documentary style gives it the same vitality as the best work of directors such as Francesco Rosi and his expert fictionalising of fact. Yes, this is history but we’re still dealing with entertainment.

One last surprise though and that is, unlike the self-serious Munch, Watkins has a sly sense of humour, something which runs throughout the entire movie. There’s a lot of satire at play here with some very funny observations of conventional society and hypocrisy, although the ones who might get it in the neck the most are the Bohemians of Christiania and Berlin who are portrayed as selfish, narcissistic, misogynist assholes. They are the counter-culture of a century past. This could be why the best joke is reserved for Munch at the very end, a last burst of irony and a killer twist which is oddly uplifting with the overtones of a cosmic joke. It’s perfectly fitting because, after all, sometimes there’s not that much difference between a laugh and a scream.

‘Edvard Munch’ is the most impressive film I’ve seen this year. It’s a mind-boggling achievement; never has existential angst been so captivating.