Original subtitles

The Hermitage Museum

Hermitage Bridge Studio

present " The Universe of the Hermitage "

a film by Alexander Sokurov

Hubert Robert. A Fortunate Life

The day is done.

Friends talked me into going to see

a traditional theatre performance.

It was cold and wet.

The play began somehow quietly, very quietly

The actors appeared silently from out of the mist

and seemed weightless.

Undoubtedly,

the covered the faces of great,

eternal actors.

As I peered at this miracle

I recalled

something from Dostoevsky that I read once.

Something like:

"Without noticing how it came about

I found myself in another land.

All was the same in our country,

but everything was radiant with the triumph finally attained.

Tall, beautiful trees

stood in all the splendour of their blossom,

and their countless leaves - I am sure of it -

greeted me

with their soft, endearing rustling,

if whispering words of love."

And further on:

...At last, I saw the people

of this happy land...

These people clung to me

and caressed me...

Everyone of them was eager to soothe me.

They did not question me about anything,

but somehow they knew all.

What a marvellous picture!

Who is the author?

And why was it this precise picture

which appeared in my mind's eye?

"Quite

unnoticeably, I found myself in another land.

Everything seemed to be radiant with triumph...

Tall, beautiful trees

stood in blossom

and their countless leaves

greeted me with their soft, endearing rustling,

if whispering words of love."

So who is the artist?

Now I remember...

I remember.

Robert. Hubert Robert.

The 18th century.

He was born, I think, in 1730...

No, no.

He was born in 1733.

In France, Louis XV was on the throne

and the Great Revolution was still to come.

In Russia the ruler was the little-known Anna loannovna:

The United States of America had not yet been born.

The Prussian state was gaining strength.

England was acquiring new colonies,

Japan was almost unknown to Europe.

The Europeans were constantly at war, and at the same time -

a love for antiquity,

the adoration of beauty, amplification of beauty...

Those who knew him in his lifetime

said that the soft look

in his large, radiant eyes,

his calm and natural pose,

all these inspired one with affection...

At 21 years old

Robert arrived in Rome to study painting

and classical architecture.

Already 21 years old...

But still, this was Rome,

the city of cities!

And within only 5 years

Robert received his first professional commission.

Fate was to allow him

to relatively at ease,

11 years travelling

and studying in Italy.

When he returned to Paris

he was immediately elected a member of the Academie.

His fellow professionals took him in without malice.

And why not'?

In everything he did

there are marks of tradition, of skill.

He annoyed no one

with his style or his subjects.

Spontaneously, he loved what was then loved

by ma")!-

How lucky he was...

He was in tune with his time.

He did not allow himself to take a single pace ahead,

but went on, in step,

second by second.

In the natural death of a building

there is no ugliness,

only sorrow.

The most simple, and therefore accessible for everyone.

The ruins...

One can look at them endlessly.

And this undoubtedly cures one of arrogance.

The architectural setting

is a box to hold light and shade,

bright sunrays

and grey winter twilight.

In Petersburg, in the Hermitage,

there are many pictures by Robert.

Russian tsars and nobles

paid Robert well,

whatever the price.

Then the pictures were packed up

and long, long

was the journey, in carts,

to distant, cold Russian palaces.

Of Robert it was said that he painted pictures

as quickly as letters.

He left after him

over 500 canvases.

An unbounded world

into which a whole civilisation could fit.

Do not trust Robert.

These buildings never existed on the earth.

Neither did the fountains,

nor the colossal arches.

He invented it all.

Everything, everything was invented.

Yes, undoubtedly,

my own artistic preferences are for the 18th century.

Pictures, furniture, porcelain, books,

romantic landscapes, deep skies,

classical ruins, the marble of the sculptures,

the grandeur of the museums,

the triumph of classical art...

The more he looked,

the more he was amazed

by the incredible fruitfulness of the past.

When and how...

did they manage to create all that?

When? and how'?

The body of Robert's painting.

Its skin,

its living veil.

This body breathes

and is very often sick.

How strange...

the Hermitage in St:Petersburg

is built just a few metres

from a deep, mighty river,

which rises up to flood the city several times a year.

Boldly and with pleasure

did Robert paint huge canvases,

from the very parquet to the vaults of the palace.

And there was no vanity in this,

only great skill

and a tender love for architecture...

Life passed by, day after day,

year after year.

Already he had fame,

money, success.

After all, he was loved by many.

His character was easy,

his temper merry,

he was always lively and lucky.

But there was a shadow on his life.

Suddenly, within a short time,

one after the other,

all his children died:

Gabrielle, Adelaide,

Charles

and Adele.

Napoleon came to power.

He evicted Academician Robert and his wife

from their beloved flat in the Louvre,

where they had lived 25 years.

And in 1808

at the age of 75

he died, falling down by his easel,

perhaps because the life had finished.

Yes, and the ancient play is over.

Only the scent of blossoming trees remains.

Paintings by Hubert Robert from the Hermitage Museum

A film by Alexander Sokurov

Camera: Alexei Fiodorov Sound: Vladimir Persov

Editor: Leda Semionova

Producer Andrei Deryabin

Hermitage Bridge Studio © 1996