Writer and Director: James Lucas
Although 86 years old, Derek Jacobi plays a blinder as Lucien Freud in this quiet, steady film about the portrait painter’s relationship with supermodel Kate Moss. Sometimes fierce and at other times gentle, Jacobi’s Freud is stuck in his ways, but these habits bring a stability to Moss as we see her transition from party girl to tender mother.
James Lucas’s film begins with Moss driving erratically at night, seemingly drunk and drugged up, trying to put on makeup as she speeds down a road. Later montage sequences show her at shoots and at Mayfair parties, soaking up her fame in the 1990s. When she hears that Freud wants to paint her, she’s excited but baulks at his demands that she pose for him three nights a week. She must arrive at his house at precisely 7pm.
Of course, she’s late. And Freud is furious. However, they somehow make the sessions work. He puts up with her chain-smoking; she tolerates his slow approach to painting. Remembering when they met early one morning in a deserted National Gallery and discussed how nakedness reveals timeless truths, Moss decides that she wants to be painted nude. A flicker of desire crosses Freud’s face as she takes off her clothes and settles back on the bed, the same bed that Leigh Bowery posed on for his portraits.
As this film is produced by Kate Moss herself, the character of Moss is, naturally, depicted more sensitively than Freud. Moss has a strong narrative arc as she begins to question her hedonistic days and nights. In contrast, Freud unlearns. His wisdom fails him as he begins to fall in love, best portrayed in the nightclub scene where he dances with the supermodel. There’s no one as foolish as an old fool.
Jacobi, who has already played Francis Bacon on screen, is captivating as the increasingly jealous and bitter Freud, and yet he brings such humanity to the role. His expectant eyes and his half-opened mouth demonstrate his longing for Moss, even though he knows it’s an impossible premise. It’s not entirely clear what Moss is gaining from their relationship. She might see him as a father figure.
As Moss, Ellie Bamber bears an uncanny resemblance, and she convincingly makes the journey from frivolous It Girl to wholesome mother and wife; she’s even gardening when her waters break. However, Bamber is best in her scenes with Jacobi, ensconced in Freud’s shadowy studio, and it’s a pity that there aren’t more of these duologues, as that is where the drama lies.
Jasmine Blackborow brings elegance to her role as Bella Freud, Moss’s friend. The painter doesn’t know how to talk to his daughter, almost ignores her at the nightclub when he is dancing with Moss. Blackborow gives her character a resigned but loving air as she watches her father doting on the model. There could be another film here.
And yet, while the focus of Lucas’s film is squarely on Moss (we never see scenes of Freud without Moss, but there are plenty of scenes of Moss without Freud), the atmosphere is pleasingly elegiac. Freud’s relationship with Moss was an odd one, and this film paints one version of it.
Moss & Freud is screening at the BFI London Film Festival 2025 from 8-16 October.
