Like most film festivals nowadays, Toronto features a section devoted exclusively to documentaries. Real to Reel, they call it here. And as a general rule, the first thing I do each year when devising a tentative schedule is to cross just about every Real to Reel title off my list. Rarely do I even bother to investigate what any given doc is about before tossing it in the discard pile. Next!
Unfair? Probably. But while great documentaries continue to be made – Bus 174, Grizzly Man and My Kid Could Paint That have all placed on my top ten lists in recent years – the recent explosion in nonfiction filmmaking, driven in large part by ready access to cheap video cameras, has resulted in approximately 60 gazillion docs with no compelling reason to exist, except that somebody wanted to make a movie. “Why would this subject be well served by moving images?” is a question that doesn’t seem to occur to most docmakers, perhaps because very often the correct answer is “It wouldn’t.”
Case in point: The Art of the Steal, the only documentary I’ve watched at TIFF ‘09 thus far. (Its inclusion in the ultra-selective New York Film Festival swayed me.) Directed by Don Argott (Rock School), it examines the allegedly tragic fate of the Barnes Foundation, a remarkable collection of post-impressionist and early-modernist art currently located in Merion, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Philadelphia. Assembled in the 1920s by Dr. Albert Barnes, an iconoclast with no love for most of his peers in the art world, it’s been eyed hungrily by various cultural and business interests ever since 1951, when Barnes was killed in an auto wreck; The Art of the Steal details the machinations employed to circumvent Barnes’ will, which stipulated that the collection could never be moved. Unless something happens in the meantime, the Barnes Foundation will move to Philadelphia next year.
First of all, Argott and his collection of talking heads make a pretty feeble case for this hijacking as the artistic crime of the century. Yes, Barnes is probably rolling in his grave, and while one could argue (though the film barely does) that masterpieces like Matisse’s “Le bonheur de vivre” and Cezanne’s “Nature morte au crane” deserve to be seen by a wider audience than tiny Merion can accommodate, on the whole I’d prefer to see the collection remain where it is. But moving everything 4.2 miles is hardly the desecration this movie suggests. The new space will even replicate Barnes’ idiosyncratic layout, in which works are grouped aesthetically rather than by period or artist, so that visitors will have more or less the same experience they would have in the original locale. And while various Philadelphia interests will surely make money from this venture (thanks largely to increased tourism), it’s not as if anyone is being impoverished—the art itself still belongs to the same Foundation it has since 1951, though the number of trustees has tripled in recent years.
Still, even if Argott had a strong case, it’s not a case that needed to be made on film (or video). Apart from the paintings, there’s nothing to look at here—like most mediocre docs, The Art of the Steal just rounds up a bunch of interview subjects and sits them down to yak it up in front of a generic backdrop, though Argott does his best to jazz things up via snappy editing and some archival footage. The only reasons to watch this movie rather than read John Anderson’s Art Held Hostage: The Battle Over the Barnes Collection, which tackles the whole brouhaha in far more depth, are illiteracy and laziness. The late Gene Siskel used to ask whether a given film was more interesting than watching the actors sit down and have lunch together; when it comes to most docs these days, ask yourself, before you buy a ticket, whether you’d rather read a book or lengthy magazine article on the same subject. Does cinema bring something to the material that a combination of words and stills couldn’t possibly convey? If not, why bother?
Mike D’Angelo / © 2009 notcoming.com
I kind of feel that way about your “review”, as in, why bother writing it.
Mostly in the quixotic hope of dissuading people from making more documentaries that take zero advantage of the medium.
You are putting yourself out there on a limb, so far as, this film will most likely be a frontrunner to win an Oscar. Not to mention…is the hottest ticket in Toronto and will be in NY too.
I’ll be watching to see if you are on the mark..or just…a bad reviewer.
Ren.
The only reasons to watch this movie rather than read John Anderson’s Art Held Hostage: The Battle Over the Barnes Collection, which tackles the whole brouhaha in far more depth, are illiteracy and laziness.
Now, that’s just silly. I haven’t yet seen the film yet, but you’ve made the whole affair seem far from involving (much less, incendiary). And now my homework is to read a whole freaking book about it? No, thanks.
Call me lazy, but I’d much rather see a film about this issue – albeit a well-made one, which perhaps this isn’t – before investing the time and energy in reading a book about it. Actually, I’d probably prefer to read a magazine article (lazier, but more literate) or watch a 60 Minutes piece about it (lazy and illiterate, perhaps, but I’m still partial to Morley Safer every once in a while). In other words, the choice to see a documentary over reading a book about the same subject is often proportional to just how much one gives a shit about said topic. You (and a press screening on Monday) have inspired me to give the Barnes Collection exactly 101 minutes of my time. And if that doesn’t have me drooling for that John Anderson magic, then maybe I should just be out there humping trashcans.
And what’s with the Real to Reel backlash? Sure, there’s a glut of documentaries out there, but I don’t think the ratio of great to mediocre is that much more dispiriting than that of any other type of film. What’s more, a glance at Thom Powers’s programming over the last few years more than speaks for itself. Don’t cross so many films off your list next year—someone might accuse you of being lazy!
Does cinema bring something to the material that a combination of words and stills couldn’t possibly convey? If not, why bother?
There’s an implicit assumption here that the printed medium should be the “default” medium for conveying information. But given the ascendance of the audio/visual medium in our culture, should this still be the case? Put another way, why would it be invalid to ask “Do words and stills bring something to the material that an audio/visual presentation couldn’t possibly convey?”
Granted, that a documentary might present information in a useful form probably isn’t a reason to give it space in prestigious film festivals. But, all in all, I’m probably with leo; I’ve only got so much time, and if a documentary can present material in 90 minutes that otherwise would take me 15 hours to digest in printed format, that’s good enough for me.
You’re missing my point, JREinATL. The docs I’m decrying are composed primarily of words. It’s just that the words are being spoken aloud by talking heads. In most cases you could read a transcript of the film and have much the same experience, and it’d be the equivalent of a heavily edited or condensed version of a book.
Well Mike, if you really knew what you were talking about then you would know that John Anderson’s book, “Art Held Hostage” ends at around 1999-2000 – The film continues to the present day. But I’m sure you knew that because you read the book. John’s book is excellent and extremely detailed but the film is not an adaptation of the book.
I think that the people who have a problem with Mike’s review are missing the point. Just because you don’t like the movie doesn’t mean you don’t recognize the importance of the subject. Bad filmmaking is bad filmmaking, regardless of the subject. What’s the point of making a movie if you aren’t going to make an attempt to tell the story in a visual manner. I’ve seen enough talking head docs to last a lifetime.
I haven’t seen the film yet, but as a Philadelphia artist and teacher I would like to point out that the Barnes Foundation, inside and out, including the gardens and house layout, were all designed as a whole esthetic experience, relating the paintings to views through the windows, for example. Barnes’ philosophy, influenced by the ideas of John Dewey, represented a unique moment in American art history which will be lost should the Barnes Foundation be dismantled. No “virtual” Barnes museum will recapture this, the real thing. To destroy the original Barnes Foundation is wanton desecration. By the way, that is me holding a sign in the background of the still photo that accompanies this article. I am proud to be a protester of the move.
People like Mike should really only write to their own tastes. For Mike to have a distaste for docs before he goes into to see them really sets himself up for disaster to give advice to people when he is both unqualified, (and in this case) obviously setting himself up to look-a-fool. I am from Toronto and was lucky enough to find a ticket for this film. If you are either an art lover or enjoy documentaries this is a can’t miss. It seems as if Mike was not able to get a ticket for the show or maybe even sold his ticket. This story has everything: a long battle of New Money vs. Old Money, government corruption, the little man fighting for whats right. I was thinking I was going to fall asleep before the theater went dark, but this one ended with me giving the loudest applause at TIFF.
The premise of this movie sucks, as do the people who support it. Let me tell you who were the real problem children in this situation: the people of Lower Merion. The impulse they had to block the modernization of the Barnes had way less to do with the will and/or the actual mission of the museum than it had to do with the fact that the dicks in Lower Merion didn’t want more parking to sully the views from their mansions. I’m very sorry, but this movie is UTTERLY biased and made me (as a Philadelphian artist who FULLY SUPPORTS THE MOVE) EXTREMELY angry. It’s propaganda from the losers’ side, because they are pissed that they lost their case. Guess what: people are still going to visit the gorgeous new museum when it’s finished. And more people will now have access to the amazing perspective of the Barnes which will, in turn, enable the Barnes to take better care of its collection. I mean… really. If you want to call the overtly wealthy residents of Lower Merion Township “the little man”, then you should really educate yourself on the demographic of that area a little more (44.1% of the people in that area make over $100,000 a year — hardly impoverished, and hardly quantifiable as “little men”). Did the documentary happen to cover the point that the Barnes in its current situation has major problems with climate control, thereby putting the actual works of art into danger? Did the documentary happen to mention that part of the reason the collection went on tour, and a major part of the reason for them moving is because the EXTREMELY limited visitor capacity makes it very difficult for the museum to stay afloat? Of course not. Because that would be unbiased. You can all go off as much as you want about “desecration” and “aesthetics”, etc., but when it comes right down to it, what is the use of all that if the works at the center of the argument begin to go to waste? Do me a favor, and don’t just jump on the bandwagon because this documentary says to. Go educate yourself, because this movie is NOT giving you the whole story.
As I recall, the film did happen to mention at least some of those things. But while I take your point – that the situation was rather more complicated than presented – the film seems principally about the corruption and deceit lurking in deals between local government and big-money art institutions. You’re of course free to regard the Lower Merion folks as a bunch of rich snobs, just as you are free to think of the local Philadelphia bureaucrats as mere philistines who are perfectly willing to piss on Barnes’s explicit wishes for the handling of his collection. But while the film certainly deals with the latter point extensively (and less so the former), each seems irrelevant in light of the apparently shady machinations that ultimately decided the collection’s fate.
Probably not relevant to this discussion, but the Barnes desecration and the resultant politics has a serious chilling effect on potential donors with expectations that their gifts will be handle with reasonable respect for their wishes. Should they look elsewhere?
I would like to have a dvd of this film to use for future use and some reference. Does anyone know where I can pick up one?
Patience, Donna. The movie was just released in New York theaters a couple of weeks ago, and should be on DVD in a few months.
One thing I picked up – those in the documentary that oppose the move unintentionally revealed their own class elitism that Barnes so despised. At several points, these know-it-alls rued that with the move, the paintings would be widely opened up to the unwashed masses. Ironically, Barnes himself intended the collection to be open not only to its “students”, but to the common working man — all of those red-state, Applebees-eating untermenschen that the art snobs so despise. Barnes may have been brilliant in some aspects, but in setting up the foundation, he proved to be a real dope. Lower Merion was and is a developed suburb, filled with the same uptight Philadelphians that he so resented, and in the end they were most responsible for bringing down the existing Barnes. He should have set it up in rural Chester County as part of Lincoln University.
Directed by
Don Argott
Source
35mm print
Posted on
17 September 2009
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Peter Dunham
17 September 2009
2:37 PM