this more or less completely useless film be hopelessly stick in a romantic ( a in 19th century ) view of the artist a a lonely and struggle genius . the film ( if not it subject life ) be a catalogue of clichés represent the miserable childhood and the penniless adulthood and the difficult love life and the threat of insanity and the critical incomprehension and the refusal to ell out ( possibly the most long lived of romantic clichés and it still think to be relevant in the world of rock and roll ) and the god damn post mortem vindication be all present and account for . add to this lookalikes of the usual suspect of paris between world war cocteau and picasso and gertrude stein etcetera and an audience with the godlike auguste renoir ( courtesy of picasso ) and you get this represent two hour of rehashed idea try to convince the viewer of an artist originality by equate him with every stereotyped image of the troubled genius . this extreme conventionalism be hardly suit to the memory of an unconventional artist like modigliani and be it .