hilma

Film, 2022, 4.5 stars

Written and Directed by: Lasse Hallström

Truly, it feels Lasse Hallström has attempted to rewrite art history with this revealing portrait of one of the most important and neglected female artists of all time. Adding a queer element—which has been the subject of conjecture but never definitely proven—adds a layer for us to see Hilma af Klint through her passions, of which the love and company of women was obviously one.

Hilma af Klint was an artist who personified “ahead of her time”. Hilma was so far ahead in her beliefs, in her expression of gender, and especially in her art, that she only had her first real exhibit at the Guggenheim in the 1990’s, which is still their largest attended exhibition of all time.

There was no knowledge of her work before the late sixties. She’s considered one of Sweden’s most important artists, and certainly one of the originators, if not THE originator if you believe the film’s conjectures about being Kandinsky’s inspiration, of abstract or non-figurative art. There seems to be no doubt now that her works from 1906 predated Kandinsky’s 1911 letter declaring himself the founder.

That is not to say that you need to be particularly into art to watch the film—you most definitely don’t. You can, if you like, simply see it as a well-made film about a truly fascinating figure in history, who created some extraordinary works. However, you can read this film on a whole other level, and Lasse Hallström deftly gives us that choice. It wouldn’t surprise me to see Hilma used in Film Studies in future as a treatise on how to represent and reflect the artistic process in film.

Hilma af Klint saw “beyond the visible” into an unseen, spiritual world. She created art as an expression of her faith and was a true believer in both God and in what she called the High Masters, or spirits who commissioned her to create. Later she would begin to create more intellectually and was able to explain what her paintings meant to her. She evolved over time but always painted exactly as she saw the world.

Hilma is a true family affair. Lasse Hallström is writer/director (really there’s little doubt he’s an auteur at this point). Lena Olin and Tora Hallström, the director’s wife and daughter, play the older and younger Hilma respectively. We know how talented Lena Olin is, but this is Tora’s first real starring role. I sincerely hope she’s now considering throwing in her day job because she is so expressive and soulful in the lead.

The queer element comes in Hilma’s intimate relationship with fellow painter and spiritualist Anna Cassel, another Swedish painter of the time. They are parted midway through by a schism, and we don’t truly feel how strongly Hilma relied upon Anna emotionally until the end. We know she relied financially upon her friend and lover, but the Hilma we see just before death finally comes to see the spiritual connection she had with Anna, which is a tearjerking revelation.

Older and younger Hilma have uncanny synchronicity. There’s barely a blip between her mannerisms and voice at different ages, and we never lose Hilma’s point of view. This isn’t a sentimental film either, neatly sidestepping criticism often levelled at biographies focused on women. The camera simply observes unless it is prudent to intervene for the sake of the story. Hallström employs just enough expressionist technique to help us understand the relationship between Hilma’s art and thoughts.

Hilma af Klint lived an extraordinary life, and this is a deeply skilful portrayal of that life. She never lost faith in her own vision even when under attack for it, except for one brief, problematic period where she relies inexplicably on the flawed opinions of one man. She shunned her pre-determined role on society and forged her own path, with the help of the strong and eclectic array of women who became important in her life.

Many (male) critics have been self-congratulatory at their ability to “see through” Lasse Hallström’s work here. They complain Hallström represents Hilma’s beliefs with some kind of feminist agenda and as “truth”, which is absurd, and her behaviour as rational, which he absolutely does not. Hilma is the most unreliable of narrators, her trauma and deeply problematic relationships with people show us that.

Hallström’s script consistently throws non-believers in Hilma’s path, including her own lover, and these voices of doubt give us a way to negotiate what is real and what isn’t. We are encouraged not to believe everything but to know that she believed it, and to see the world though her singular, powerful vision which translated to sublime art.

The Hilma af Klint depicted by Hallström is flawed, often callous, quite possibly delusional, but always interesting, and now her art and life is here to inspire us for all time.