Kinski Paganini (1989)

User Rating:

6.1/10   

Director:

Klaus Kinski

Writer:

Klaus Kinski (writer)

Release Date:

25 May 1990 (Italy)

Genre:

Biography | Drama

Plot:

Kinski believed that he lived through the same experiences as the legendary "devil violinist" Niccolo Paganini...

Plot Keywords:

Beautiful Woman | Female Nudity

Cast

Klaus Kinski	...	Niccolo Paganini
Deborah Caprioglio	...	Antonia Bianchi (as Debora Kinski)
Nikolai Kinski	...	Achille Paganini
Dalila Di Lazzaro	...	Helene von Feuerbach
Tosca D'Aquino	...	Angiolina Cavanna
Eva Grimaldi	...	Marie Anna Elise Bonaparte
Beba Balteano	...	Carol Watson
Fabio Carfora	...	Mr. Watson
Donatella Rettore	...	Miss Wells
Bernard Blier	...	Pater Caffarelli
André Thorent	...	Galvano
Marcel Marceau	...	Pantomime
rest of cast listed alphabetically:
Feodor Chaliapin Jr.
Vittorio Ciorcalo
Niels Gullov
Luigi Leoni
Hermann Weisskopf

Also Known As:

Paganini (short title)

Runtime:

81 min | 95 min (director's cut)

Country:

Italy | France

Language:

Italian

Color:

Color

Aspect Ratio:

1.66 : 1

Sound Mix:

Dolby

Certification:

West Germany:16 | Italy:VM18

Company:

Président Films

Trivia:

Klaus Kinski's directorial debut.

Movie Connections:

Referenced in Mein liebster Feind - Klaus Kinski (1999)

I have to conclude: Jerking off at our expense

I watched Paganini for the first time, then ran to watch bits of Fitzcarraldo again. I just realized why: It was the armchair cineaste's equivalent of taking a shower to rinse the muck off after watching Paganini.

I needed to watch Fitzcarraldo to remind myself that, yes, Kinski was a great actor. And he was.

I never thought I'd actually find a genuine-article case of this, but in Paganini you have Kinski finally using film--and his fans--as a full-tilt surrogate for his fading fantasy that he's the rooster in the barnyard.

It really is shameless. People thought that Woody Allen used film like this way long after he shoulda. Well, guess what? Allen is a piker.

If you're curious to see a great film star at his lowest ebb in this particular regard, watch Paganini.

Now, people in these comments extol the natural lighting, Kinski's raw magnetism, the unstudied editing, the artful inattention to technique in general, genuinely moving scenes of familial love, etc., etc. Yes, all those things are arguably there. I'm not just being conciliatory for rhetorical effect. But there comes a time when you have to admit the evidence of what you're seeing before your very eyes, and the conclusion is inescapable: Kinski is jerking off at our expense. He's not just exercising an eccentric degree of artistic license. He's lost in unfiltered, unsublimated sexual self-aggrandizement.