A walking tour in literary Paris renewed my interest in Total Eclipse again after seeing one of the seedy apartments that poet Paul Verlaine inhabited and hearing a few tales about his wretched money handling, mean-spirited spousal abuse, drunken debauchery, and the scandals he caused while cavorting with Arthur Rimbaud. Although Verlaine was well regarded as a poet, Rimbaud occupies a greater prominence in literary circles as a genius who arguably sparked modern poetry. Thus, the title Total Eclipse suggests one aspect of the pair of poets—somewhat parallel to Salieri fading to the shadows in the light of Mozart's artistry in Amadeus.

Artistic genius is difficult to paint cinematically, and only films like Amadeus, Immortal Beloved, and Basquiat successfully convey the creative spirit and humanity of the artist. On the other end of the spectrum come Ed Harris' screaming monstrosity that paints Jackson Pollock in a bad light without revealing anything significant about the character. Agnieszka Holland's biographical Total Eclipse lies between the extremes, a greatly flawed film about the unlikable Verlaine (David Thewlis) and Rimbaud (Leonardo DiCaprio) that remains compelling and provocative.

Beginning in 1871, established poet Verlaine invites 16-year old Rimbaud to Paris after reading a sampling of his remarkable verse. Rimbaud arrives at the household, immediately demonstrating his disdain for social niceties—declaring that he needs to piss, belching at the dinner table, and destroying family property.

Kicked out into the streets that same night, Verlaine finds a hole in the wall apartment for his young charge, and soon after he abandons his pregnant wife to travel and live with Rimbaud throughout France and Belgium. The homosexual lovers lead a complicated Bohemian lifestyle—Verlaine financially supports Rimbaud, who serves as inspiration for the drained older poet. It's a heaven-and-hell situation, alternating between passionate love and heated quarrels. During one of many absinthe-laced drinking sessions, Rimbaud plunges a knife into Verlaine's palm, coldly declaring that, "The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable."

Christopher Hampton's (Dangerous Liaisons) script remains essentially faithful to basic known history, although it unfolds unevenly and hops around too frequently. One puzzling jump cut shifts from a joint travel planning session to a scene where Rimbaud is back at his country home for a spell with no explanation offered. The tempestuous two-year relationship is shown, and the probable infatuation revealed with Verlaine equivocating between his homosexual desires and his longing for the security of a "normal life" with his rich wife. The most well-known historical incident between Rimbaud and Verlaine occurs when the older poet shoots his young lover in the hand, leading to a court ordered medical exam of the suspected sodomist's anus that bears "the signs of active and passive pederastic habits." Sentenced for two years in prison, the real-life Verlaine converts to Catholicism, which the screenplay refers to—but not with the depth and definiteness that this aspect actually plays in real life.

Snippets of Rimbaud's poetry are read, but more references would better get inside the poet-genius' mind. As it stands, the script only superficially glimpses Rimbaud's contempt for humanity as a whole, his loneliness, and longing for human connection. Closeups capture these mood swings well when both DiCaprio and Thewlis appear together. But too often the camera pulls back, and scenes degenerate into shameless overacted sideshows—drunken reveries; these are to be expected, given the history, but barking dog shows are just one instance of joyless over-the-top acting.

In short, Total Eclipse qualifies as a noble effort to capture Rimbaud's genius, but it fails to take enough risks to get close to the enigmatic poet. Holland's film keeps its distance from the characters, not allowing the audience to really get the same kind of sense that you get of Mozart and Salieri from Milos Forman's opus—as if the filmmakers have already decided that the audience can't possibly relate to the obnoxious, homosexual lovers/poets. The film parallels Verlaine's poetry—decent and interesting, but certainly not among the better biopics about creative artists—a decidedly mediocre work.