"Óscar. The Color of Destiny" is a revealing portrayal of a forgotten icon of French Surrealism: Spanish painter Óscar Domínguez, contemporary of Picasso. The film rediscovers the life of a... See full summary »
When it appears as though the end is in sight, the pilots, flight crew, and passengers of a plane heading to Mexico City look to forget the anguish of the moment and face the greatest danger, which we carry within ourselves.
"Óscar. The Color of Destiny" is a revealing portrayal of a forgotten icon of French Surrealism: Spanish painter Óscar Domínguez, contemporary of Picasso. The film rediscovers the life of a talented artist who was ignored after he committed suicide, fifty years ago, victim of a serious illness which had disfigured his body: the Elephant Man's disease. The film is stirring and touching and compels admiration for the bohemian painter whose fate was self-destruction, after a wild crazy life. Lucas Fernández turns the life of a debauchee, who regarded himself a monster because of his disfiguring disease, into a universal story where art is the product of love and loneliness, of sex and violence before, during and after the Nazi invasion of Paris. Written by
I saw this movie while visiting Spain, and despite the big promotion, it is one of the worst movies in history. I read, while in Madrid, the local reviews (unfortunately, before i went to see the movie, "lucky" me), and not a single one approved this movie.
Stay away from it. It is not even worth of a pirate copy or a free download. It is an insult to the Art of Cinematography.
Only Almeida and Emma Suarez pass the test. The rest seemed to be there to cash their check and go, as no one showed any interest in their part.
On top of it, this movie it is supposed to be about the life of this (totally unknown) painter. Not one single Spanish person I talked to knew this painter beforehand. It seemed like a push by some interest group to make this long deceased painter be known, for some dark reasons. The movie concentrates on other matters not related to the painter, that leaves us thinking: "Why did I waste two hours of my life coming here?"
I did not know the painter before going into the theater, and when I left, I had the feeling I knew him even less.
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