Tous les matins du monde is the story of two musicians, Marin Marais (played by the noted actor, Gérard Depardieu) and his mentor, Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe, during the time of King Louis IV in the 17th century. The late director Alain Corneau adapted the novel of the same name, written by Pascal Quignard. Little is known historically of both Marais and Sainte-Colombe, and Quignard's novel is a speculative account of the two mens' relationship.
The film begins with an elderly Marais (now the master player of the viola da gamba, a predecessor of the modern cello) recounting his youth as well as the biography of his mentor, Sainte-Colombe, who became a recluse on his country estate after the death of his wife. Sainte-Colombe did raise his two daughters, Madeline and Toinette, and taught them both how to play the viol, and the trio soon caught the ear of the king by performing local concerts. One of the members of the king's inner circle, Monsieur de Caignet, informs Sainte-Colombe that the king wants him to lead the royal orchestra at the court, but Sainte- Colombe refuses. For refusing the king, Sainte-Colombe and his daughters are banned from performing for the foreseeable future.
Sainte-Colombe, who never got over the death of his wife, withdraws further into his own little world, spending hours in a diminutive hut (set off from his main house), where he further hones his craft on the viol. The central part of the drama begins when a 19 year old Marais (played by Depardieu's son, Guillame), shows up at Saint-Colombe's door, and begs him to take this unpolished son of a shoemaker on, as a pupil. As far as I could tell, Marais plays beautifully for Sainte-Colombe, but Sainte-Colombe, due to his unreasonable quest for perfection, is unimpressed. He perceives Marais as a sell-out, who will do well making music at the royal court, but will never be a bona fide, true "musician."
Both daughters, nonetheless, are quite impressed by the young Marais and urge their father to reconsider taking him on as a pupil. Sainte-Colombe finally agrees to have the young man come back but after a short time he sends him packing. Marais ends up having an affair with Madeline, who teaches all her father's smart moves on the viol. And to top it off, Marais (along with Madeline), hides underneath the hut, in an attempt to appropriate more of the master's style. When Sainte-Colombe finds Marais underneath the hut, that's the last straw, and sends him packing for good.
Marais is depicted as having been seduced by court life and coldly dumps Madeline. She becomes despondent and eventually hangs herself. Sainte-Colombe becomes even more despondent over his daughter's suicide, and it takes him months before he realizes that all that brooding has done him no good. This coincides with Marais' change of heart; he realizes the error of his ways—his seduction by King Louis IV's court—which also leads to an his own life-affirming epiphany, and the subsequent decision to call on Sainte-Colombe, leading to a reconciliation between the two 'great' men.
In the end, Saint-Colombe ultimately realizes that the way he treated Marais was beneath him and simply arrogant. For a long while, he was obsessed with his dead wife, who he often saw in visions. He was brought back to reality by the crushing real-life death of his daughter. Similarly, just like in the case of his mentor, the death of someone close, was the catalyst for change. Marais realized that the way in which he treated Madeline, who he dumped for the seductive glare of the royal court, was awful and that he now needed to make amends. Marais could now approach his former mentor with humility and would now find an equally accepting and receptive Sainte-Colombe, ready to recognize his talents, which he was loathe to do, at an earlier juncture in Marais' career.
The film's strongest suit is undoubtedly the rich visuals evoking the period as well as the music, performed by the modern day master of the viol, Jordi Savall. Corneau's screenplay is sometimes slow and wordy and manages to rely on narration a little too often. It's a simplistic tale of redemption, relying on the melodramatic deaths of two female characters, to effect a catharsis in both principals.
Both Depardieus offer up convincing performances but it pains me to think about what happened to the younger Depardieu in real life (injured in a motorcycle accident, he eventually had to have his leg amputated; and later died of pneumonia at around age thirty). There's also the tragedy of director Corneau who died at the young age of 67 from cancer, not to mention the elder Depardieu's more recent troubles with the law.
Had Corneau and Quignard had a few more real-life facts about Sainte-Colombe and Marais to go on, this could have been a slightly more nuanced tale. Instead, we're asked to assent to Sainte-Colombe's label as a 'genius', without any real evidence. The dour narcissist remains fixated on his dead wife for most of the film, and only comes out of his shell when faced with the second tragedy of his daughter's suicide. It's hard to believe that the real-life Marais would have placed his mentor on such a high pedestal. Historically, the quality of his musical output is deemed superior to the so-called master.
Ultimately we must be content with the speculative character portraits proffered here. Tous les matins du monde is an extremely elegant film which features some great baroque music. Nonetheless, the melodramatic, invented tale of a conflict between master teacher and student, is not as believable or moving as the music, the narrative ably showcases.
The film begins with an elderly Marais (now the master player of the viola da gamba, a predecessor of the modern cello) recounting his youth as well as the biography of his mentor, Sainte-Colombe, who became a recluse on his country estate after the death of his wife. Sainte-Colombe did raise his two daughters, Madeline and Toinette, and taught them both how to play the viol, and the trio soon caught the ear of the king by performing local concerts. One of the members of the king's inner circle, Monsieur de Caignet, informs Sainte-Colombe that the king wants him to lead the royal orchestra at the court, but Sainte- Colombe refuses. For refusing the king, Sainte-Colombe and his daughters are banned from performing for the foreseeable future.
Sainte-Colombe, who never got over the death of his wife, withdraws further into his own little world, spending hours in a diminutive hut (set off from his main house), where he further hones his craft on the viol. The central part of the drama begins when a 19 year old Marais (played by Depardieu's son, Guillame), shows up at Saint-Colombe's door, and begs him to take this unpolished son of a shoemaker on, as a pupil. As far as I could tell, Marais plays beautifully for Sainte-Colombe, but Sainte-Colombe, due to his unreasonable quest for perfection, is unimpressed. He perceives Marais as a sell-out, who will do well making music at the royal court, but will never be a bona fide, true "musician."
Both daughters, nonetheless, are quite impressed by the young Marais and urge their father to reconsider taking him on as a pupil. Sainte-Colombe finally agrees to have the young man come back but after a short time he sends him packing. Marais ends up having an affair with Madeline, who teaches all her father's smart moves on the viol. And to top it off, Marais (along with Madeline), hides underneath the hut, in an attempt to appropriate more of the master's style. When Sainte-Colombe finds Marais underneath the hut, that's the last straw, and sends him packing for good.
Marais is depicted as having been seduced by court life and coldly dumps Madeline. She becomes despondent and eventually hangs herself. Sainte-Colombe becomes even more despondent over his daughter's suicide, and it takes him months before he realizes that all that brooding has done him no good. This coincides with Marais' change of heart; he realizes the error of his ways—his seduction by King Louis IV's court—which also leads to an his own life-affirming epiphany, and the subsequent decision to call on Sainte-Colombe, leading to a reconciliation between the two 'great' men.
In the end, Saint-Colombe ultimately realizes that the way he treated Marais was beneath him and simply arrogant. For a long while, he was obsessed with his dead wife, who he often saw in visions. He was brought back to reality by the crushing real-life death of his daughter. Similarly, just like in the case of his mentor, the death of someone close, was the catalyst for change. Marais realized that the way in which he treated Madeline, who he dumped for the seductive glare of the royal court, was awful and that he now needed to make amends. Marais could now approach his former mentor with humility and would now find an equally accepting and receptive Sainte-Colombe, ready to recognize his talents, which he was loathe to do, at an earlier juncture in Marais' career.
The film's strongest suit is undoubtedly the rich visuals evoking the period as well as the music, performed by the modern day master of the viol, Jordi Savall. Corneau's screenplay is sometimes slow and wordy and manages to rely on narration a little too often. It's a simplistic tale of redemption, relying on the melodramatic deaths of two female characters, to effect a catharsis in both principals.
Both Depardieus offer up convincing performances but it pains me to think about what happened to the younger Depardieu in real life (injured in a motorcycle accident, he eventually had to have his leg amputated; and later died of pneumonia at around age thirty). There's also the tragedy of director Corneau who died at the young age of 67 from cancer, not to mention the elder Depardieu's more recent troubles with the law.
Had Corneau and Quignard had a few more real-life facts about Sainte-Colombe and Marais to go on, this could have been a slightly more nuanced tale. Instead, we're asked to assent to Sainte-Colombe's label as a 'genius', without any real evidence. The dour narcissist remains fixated on his dead wife for most of the film, and only comes out of his shell when faced with the second tragedy of his daughter's suicide. It's hard to believe that the real-life Marais would have placed his mentor on such a high pedestal. Historically, the quality of his musical output is deemed superior to the so-called master.
Ultimately we must be content with the speculative character portraits proffered here. Tous les matins du monde is an extremely elegant film which features some great baroque music. Nonetheless, the melodramatic, invented tale of a conflict between master teacher and student, is not as believable or moving as the music, the narrative ably showcases.