All language subtitles for Robert. A Fortunate Life 1997 eng

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
©