Tous les matins du monde is a French film first released in 1991, directed by Alain Corneau.  The film stars Jean-Pierre Marielle, Gérard Depardieu, Anne Brochet, Guillaume Depardieu and Carole Richert.  It has also been released under the title: All the Mornings of the World.  Our overall rating for this film is: excellent.


At the time of Louis XIV of France, a brilliant court musician, Marin Marais, reflects on his tutelage under the great viola player, Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe.  It was in 1672 that Marais, a gauche 16 year old, presented himself before the Master with hopes of being accepted as one of his few pupils.  Sainte-Colombe, now a virtual recluse after the death of his beloved wife, is reluctant to take on any new pupils.  He has already rejected royal patronage and is content to play to his own court, which consists of geese and hens.  Marais does not strike him as having any great aptitude for music but he agrees to mentor him at the insistence of his daughter Madeleine.  Under Sainte-Colombe’s severe but patient direction, Marais soon becomes an accomplished musician, whilst pursuing a passionate love affair with Madeleine.  When he learns that his pupil has been seduced by the false grandeur of the royal court, Sainte-Colombe drives him away in disgust.  Once Marais has secured his reputation as a court musician, he decides he must end his affair with Madeleine...

Rarely has the musical biopic been as satisfactorily rendered as Alain Corneau’s 1991 masterpiece Tous les matins du monde, a sombre but hugely engaging portrait of the relationship between two of the finest composers of French Baroque music, Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe and Marin Marais.  Most biopics about artists tend either to present a dry historical account of their lives or else be fanciful artefacts inspired by their work.  Corneau’s film is refreshingly different - it recounts a true story (albeit with one or two minor inaccuracies and omissions) in a tacitly realistic manner, employing the protagonists’ artistic creations (musical compositions which sound like a soul being ripped apart by grief) to expose their inner being.  The film’s striking visual composition was inspired by French painters of the Baroque era, notably Georges de la Tour, and perfectly complements the hauntingly lachrymose music which comprises much of the film’s soundtrack.  The end result is a film of remarkable charm, eloquence and lyrical potency that offers an irresistible meditation on the excruciating beauty of Baroque music.

The film was an unusual departure for Alain Corneau, who had previously earned his reputation by directing such stylish thrillers as Police Python 357 (1976) and Le Choix des armes (1981).  Now considered Corneau’s best film, Tous les matins du monde is an inspired adaptation of a novel by Pascal Quignard (who collaborated with Corneau on the screenplay).  Not only is the film superbly well-written and directed, it is visually stunning, but in a way that serves the subject rather than making a spurious artistic statement.  Bernard Vézat’s designs are so realistic, so sensual, that they do not merely evoke the era in which the story takes place, they actually plunge the spectator into the historical setting and convey the impression that what we are seeing is real life, not just a simulation of it.  Yves Angelo’s gorgeous cinematography delivers the same visceral impression and has an additional spiritual quality, charged as it is with something of the intense mournfulness and austere beauty that characterises Sainte-Colombe’s music.

The film is no less disappointing on the acting front.  Jean-Pierre Marielle  and Gérard Depardieu, two incomparable giants of French cinema, each turns in a performance of exceptional quality, one that gently yet powerfully reveals the soul of an artist consumed by his creative passion and for whom life and art are inextricably linked, if not the same thing.  Marielle’s portrayal of Sainte-Colombe is heart-wrenching beyond words, a harrowingly convincing depiction of a man who is constantly at war with an inner emotional tornado so that he may attain perfection in his art.  As the older Marais, Depardieu is no less captivating and, through his rare talent for articulating the inexpressible through the most subtle of gestures, he convinces us that music is the most perfect of all the arts, the language of the soul and the means by which we may fully embrace the Divine.  In his first substantial screen role, Depardieu’s son Guillaume earned acclaim for his sensitive portrayal of the younger Marin, whilst Anne Brochet deserves no less credit (and was the only member of the cast to be honoured with a César) for her intensely poignant interpretation of a young woman who is destroyed by an unrequited love.

Despite its sombre tone, arcane subject matter and lethargic pace, Tous les matins du monde proved to be a major commercial success, both at home and abroad.  In France, it was the home-produced film that attracted the largest audience of the year (just over two million) whilst internationally it fared just as well, earning Alain Corneau widespread critical recognition.  The film won the coveted Prix Louis-Delluc in 1991 and was nominated for eleven awards at the 1992 Césars Ceremony, winning in seven categories including that of Best Film, Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design and Best Supporting Actress (Anne Brochet).  Although Alain Corneau continued making quality films right up until his untimely death in 2010, scoring some notable successes with such films as Le Nouveau monde (1995) and Stupeur et tremblements (2003), he was unable to match the supreme artistry and emotional power of Tous les matins du monde, his one great contribution to the art of cinema.

© James Travers 2000-2010

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