The Life of Leonardo da Vinci, Part 1 and 2
(A 2-disk, five part documentary-drama by Renato Castellani)
RAI, 2003
Leonardo of Vinci was born to a lusty, successful father who claimed him and a peasant girl mother who was kept from him; and the claim of Leonardo's father was not embraced by the man’s other children, Leonardo’s ten brothers and two sisters, and those siblings used Leonardo’s illegitimate state to keep Leonardo from the estate first his father then his uncle willed to him. The solitary Leonardo had a desire to learn and a talent for drawing; and he seemed to need to build a genuine knowledge base in order to proceed with his work, whether it involved art or engineering. He studied nature, particularly the human anatomy, even dissecting corpses. Religious paintings—such as his “Last Supper”—brought and sustained his fame. The Italian Renaissance master had popes and princes for his patrons, and a place at court, something that must have given him some assurance and pride. Yet, he seems to have grown up without the security in home that many people take for granted, and the political fortunes of his patrons—sometimes high, sometimes low—affected his own state; and those shifts in position could have renewed a sense of vulnerability. That may have affected him: it may be part of why he did not finish many of his projects. He had the curiosity and passion, but did he have the discipline and focus? If you do not receive lasting commitment from others, you do not have a model for it, or even a reason for it—it does not seem real. That insecurity can have an impact even upon things you imagine will be transcendent—at least that is what I am inclined to think, in general, and in particular, having watched the multi-part motion picture by Renato Castellani on the life and work of Leonardo, who painted the “Mona Lisa” and imagined air flight, underwater boats, and armored tanks centuries before others did.
Why did I decide to see a film on Leonardo? I realized that, other than an ad for a distant museum show, I had not seen or heard his name recently and had not thought about him in years—and was beginning to forget him. I am ambivalent about biographies and memoirs, thinking their concerns more likely to be gossip and self-indulgence, rather than significant fact, or true insight; and that the distorted perspective found in many biographies and memoirs can have a detrimental effect regarding the understanding of artists, writers, and thinkers, with the emphasis shifting from philosophy and practice to psychology. When Leonardo’s “Last Supper” is considered, Renato Castellani’s film narrator points to the centrality of Christ in the picture, and the high place of an early loyal disciple and the lowest place given to Judas; and these are appropriate and relevant (aesthetic and ethical) notes. Leonardo’s biography is not a theme in the painted picture. Often the concern of people with an artist’s biography has to do with their inability to deal with the artist’s greatness—they want to bring the artist down to their level, and prefer to look at the failures in his private life. However, it cannot be declared too frequently that an artist’s greatness is often rooted in his pursuit of his own values and visions, and ability to win support for those; and his failures in life often exist because the people in his life refuse cooperation (compromise of artistic principles can endanger work, but compromise of personal principles can be the thing that allows a relationship to survive). Not much is known of Leonardo’s erotic life, so his childhood familial life is looked to for obvious personal conflict and drama. It seems to me that Leonardo was lucky to have a father who recognized his creative talent and found an artist with whom the precocious boy could apprentice: that is a rare life-making response, rather than life-destroying one. Yet, a biographical and historical documentary, such as this, presents a strong sense of the world in which the artist moved. Some of the scenes are historical, informational, and others are acted drama. The locations, costumes, casting, and acting do bring the viewer close to the time in which the man and painter lived. (I liked the landscapes and buildings, and found myself wondering about the temperature in the rooms, and how men could go about in such heavy jackets, and about the practical implications of their tights.) It is impossible not to conclude that whatever continuity existed in Leonardo’s life began in his own imaginative mind and questing spirit.
Documentaries get less attention than fiction feature films, but remain important for intellectual and political purposes. They offer a concentration of analysis and experience, a fundamental seriousness, that does not have always a large place in the culture; in reading literature, the thought of the writer meets the thought of the reader, and in seeing documentaries the thought of the filmmaker and his subject/s meet the thought of the viewer. It is rewarding, but also demanding. We are far from the time when the major television networks presented documentaries as a regular part of their mission; and the films and videos that get theatrical release and critical attention tend to be on controversial subjects. Home viewing on personal equipment augments that. I still recall one of my favorite documentaries, many years after seeing it in a downtown Manhattan theater: the original civil rights series Eyes on the Prize; and appreciate the other documentaries I have screened recently, including America’s Castles, Art of War, Barack Obama, Daughters of Afghanistan, King Arthur (His Life and Legends), Men Get Depressed, Muse of Fire, Opera Stories, Shakespeare’s Soliloquies, and Why Shakespeare? I thought Charles Ferguson’s recent documentary, Inside Job, on the origin of the banking crisis was great—beautiful, smart, and useful. In watching actor Philippe Leroy as Leonardo in the documentary-drama, and seeing the artist’s exploration of art, science, and even philosophy, something of Leonardo’s life and work were restored to me, an accomplishment that provides a foundation for further exploration.
The painter Leonardo’s competition with the younger and angrier Michelangelo, a great sculptor, was interesting, as well—for the differences in their personalities and work; and it reminded me of other, later competitions, possibly inevitable competitions, among artists (writers and singers too) of different generations, philosophies, and styles. Everyone wants the space in which to do his or her own work, the space, the respect, and the reward; and an emerging artist often sees older masters as gatekeepers and threats—and sometimes bores. I did find myself wondering what Leonardo’s work would have been like if the questions he asked—the knowledge he sought—had been provided already, had been inherited. Would he have been more productive, or less?
