Owen Gleiberman Chief Film CriticIn the alluring art-world documentary “My Rembrandt,” someone describes the experience of being in sudden, direct proximity to a Rembrandt portrait of a standing figure.
He says that it was spooky, like seeing another person loom right up in front of him. Rembrandt, who painted images of astonishing dark tactile severity (“He creates shadows by not painting them,” says one observer), was the mesmeric psychologist of the Old Masters.
When you look at one of his paintings, the face it shows is so specific, so lived-in, so there that we seem to be peering right into the soul of the person it depicts.
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