Lea Glob Finds Her Muse with Apolonia, Apolonia

We meet Apolonia Sokol as she prepares for her 26th birthday party. A shaving cream beard coats her face as she trims her bangs in the mirror, hair trickling into the sink below. The first voice we hear, however, is not of Apolonia, Apolonia‘s subject, but director Lea Glob, who narrates the moment she captures behind her camera.
The Danish filmmaker met Sokol, a contemporary French painter, in 2009 when she set out to portray her on camera for a film school project — the result being 13 years of candid footage, spanning Sokol’s unconventional bohemian upbringing in her parents’ theater to her later accomplishments as a professional figure painter. Striking and tender, the film divulges Sokol’s evolution in both her own identity and art — two things she sees as interconnected.
As a voyeur to Sokol’s life, Glob ushers viewers into her subject’s inner circle, showing her dumped, birthed — even conceived, via VHS tape gifted by Sokol’s parents, affectionally labeled “don’t watch until you’re 18.” While Glob might be mistaken as a fly on the wall, the 13-year saga makes it clear that only a close confidant could capture Sokol in such a thorough portrait.
Glob trades traditional talking heads for candid chats on crowded Paris streets and bedroom floors, building an intimate progression of their relationship throughout Apolonia, Apolonia. Glob makes the most of any space Sokol occupies, catching details like framed paintings, roaming cats and cluttered dining tables that bring us into the room with her. Many shots mimic a home video: Hazy, shaky and out of focus. Glob’s preference for candidness over perfection accentuate her portrayal of Sokol, one disinterested in glorifying and more interested in documenting in as much detail as possible.