27/08/2026
Another extraordinary review of Patrick Wang's biopic of Arthur Rimbaud starring Blake Draper. Hopefully Australian audiences will have the chance to see it soon.
From British Film Institute; Peter Concannon Reviews
When was the last time you felt like you were watching something wholly original? It’s a rare enough feeling for cinemagoers, but when considering the biopic, which tends to flatten any life into a familiar narrative shape, it’s an even more alien concept. Patrick Wang explodes that form in A. Rimbaud, his wildly unconventional portrait of the 19th century poet Arthur Rimbaud. The film details Rimbaud’s life from his prodigious youth to his untimely death, but from the moment Rimbaud asks us if we’d like to hear a story and reaches out to physically make the camera ‘nod’ in agreement, Wang springs surprises in almost every scene.
Although A. Rimbaud contains a whole life and runs to almost three hours, Wang has taken a minimalist approach to the material. The film was shot on a blacked-out soundstage with a few props and set dressings suggesting the location. Just as a few lines of poetry can suggest a whole world, and cinematographer Frank Barrera deserves huge credit for the way his lighting and camerawork support this illusion. Wang decided he needed just one actor to carry this film, and he has struck gold with a young Australian named Blake Draper. He brings great confidence and linguistic dexterity to the part, and he is mesmerising to watch as he charts Rimbaud’s transformation.
Draper’s performance is even more impressive when you consider that he is acting to nobody. Every other figure Rimbaud meets is played by a different offscreen musical instrument, so while he carries one side of the conversation, a few notes from a tuba or violin will respond. Initially, it feels ridiculous – like he’s talking with the adults from Peanuts – but eventually you become fully invested in these conversations. Every time Wang goes out on a limb he makes it work. He turns the screen on its head; he edits Rimbaud’s movement to resemble a stop-motion figure; he uses animated chalk lines around Rimbaud to evoke swaying grass in the breeze. A. Rimbaud is rich in experimentation, but it is all contained within a carefully developed structure that centralises the poet’s writings and builds to a closing image that rhymes with the opening.
Is for everyone? Probably not. Wang expects audiences to meet him halfway, and I admit it took me a while to find the film’s wavelength, but there is much to reward the engaged viewer, and the director commits so wholeheartedly to every idea he makes you want to follow him. A. Rimbaud is poetic, audacious and singular; Wang has made a film in the spirit of his subject, and it is an extraordinary achievement.
Patrick Wang BFI
