June '06 Movie Review—Art School Confidential

Art School Confidential

A Sony Pictures Classics release of a United Artists presentation of a Mr. Mudd production.

Director: Terry Zwigoff
Screenplay: Daniel Clowes, based on his comic strip
Executive Producer: Barbara A. Hall
Producers: Lianne Halfon, John Malkovich, Russell Smith
Co-Producer: Daniel Clowes

Jerome Platz — Max Minghella
Audrey — Sophia Myles
Professor Sandford — John Malkovich
Jimmy — Jim Broadbent
Jonah — Matt Keeslar
Vince — Ethan Suplee
Sophie — Anjelica Huston
Bardo — Joel David Moore

Camera (Deluxe color), Jamie Anderson; editor, Robert Hoffman; music, David Kitay; production designer, Howard Cummings; art director, Peter Borck; set decorator, Barbara Munch; costume designer, Betsy Heimann; sound (DTS/Dolby Digital), Mark Weingarten; assistant director, Joe Camp III; casting, Cassandra Kulukundis.

Rating: R (for language, nudity, violence). Running time: 102 MIN.

Column Rating: See? I did, to watch John Malkovitch, which was all I found truly rewarding.
With Your Children? No, too dismal & defeatist.

ART IS NOT science. It could be argued that teaching art is a misnomer, as the artist is or isn't talented. Methodology can only cloud the 'voice' of the artist. Interest in the history of art, or stipulated classifications by artists, historians and art critics can be taught. Introduction to new mediums can give ideas, which may lead to other original uses of evolving mediums. Voice of the artist cannot be refined by anyone or anything but the artist. Art School Confidential seeks to critique the art world in a humorous fashion, as this team did in Ghost World. As such, it is redundant.

Director Terry Zwigoff and screenplay writer Daniel Clowes collaborated again for this film, adding little to their original premise. They also created Bad Santa. If you didn't like their earlier movies, you probably won't like this one either. Their attempts to capture realism and honesty fell short of other cinematic entries of this genre of the 'drab and dreary.' Clowes adapted his own comic strip ideas (comics have evolved to where they are sometimes referred to as graphic novels). Art School Confidential was a comedy if you found Ghost World comedic, which in its time (2001) epitomized irony and shrewdness. Then, along came Art School Confidential. Lackluster—save for the performances of the actors fleshing out the 2006 characters representing denizens of the art world who Clowes and Zwigoff apparently despise as their earlier art critiques needed restating in this new collaboration.

The actors are worth watching—as they imitate art—as the art world sees themselves according to Zwigoff and Clowes. Mediocre or surplus writing can seem fresh, when the faces are new. These new 'faces' bring their talents to monotonous characters, allowing hints of what could have been in the script.

John Malkovitch has been 'on the circuit' stumping for this film. He has appeared, with the requisite film clips, on everything from daytime Ellen to late night shows, including a chatty conversation about neighbor disputes with Jon Stewart on The Daily Show—completely charming and irrelevant to this film—but he had a clip. That he was stumping at all is impressive, as he is not known for that type of cooperation. Although Art School Confidential was the type of film I would expect to catch his eye, he actually appeared in very few scenes. Malkovitch doesn't have much to say about the movie in these interviews other than 'it's a good film,' possibly because of his minimal role, which nonetheless, lent his name to an otherwise potentially invisible story.

Is the rest of the film worth viewing to briefly enjoy Malkovitch? This latest entry in quirkiness, elitism and acceptance of the futile pursuit of anything stimulating was a bit more offbeat, even for this type of film—tedious, actually. The genre insists on depicting insightful, and usually unattractive, observations of the inner self caught in private moments. The writer's perceptions incriminate the least of characters with unwholesome, distasteful attributes. The seamier side of life sings the sad tale, not only of life in general, but the art world in particular, suggesting it to be crass and unforgiving of the naiveté of the un-christened artist. Ancillary to this hallowed viewpoint were the driven, superficial, personal values of the mundane, somewhat talented folks—all exhibiting a self-serving hunger to beat others down into the dirt, intrinsic to their own fame, glory and wealth.

Ok—there is that element in all professions and pursuits, granted. However, there are always the good aspects, the rewards and cultural beneficence to win out—and certainly, these elements are as entertaining as ugliness, the horrid need to tear down rather than work on the growth of character and culture—to depict principles, talent and hope for our species. Possibly the small successes and great glories some achieve are the more desirable storylines for a movie, to me, than paying to see what I can find everyday in life, see on the news, fear for our children.

To me, this genre of writing resembles the subconscious fears, the bloodlust of killing, maiming and inclinations to kink found in the horror film genre. Sans the obvious violence of a horror story, donning an air of superiority to our own mundane concepts, these writers would have us believe their cynical stories, coveting a perception of urbanity, are necessary peeks at our own failings, forcing us to examine what we do not wish to 'admit' and labeling it as dramatic storytelling. Those who collectively wrote what we perceive as Shakespearean, did it already—and with merciful versions that mourn our species' failings, rather than seeking to hold me responsible for other's digressions, subconscious depravity, and flaws, expecting me to see and revere their stories as fundamental drama.

Regardless, with his usual panache, Malkovitch's few scenes as a drawing professor at the prestigious Strathmore Art School, set the tone for the other teachers and artists portrayals. Angelica Huston also gave an air of delicate indifference. Jim Broadbent, in his scruffiest role ever, was the personification of those who accept their inferiority in an ungracious and socially maladjusted manner. Collectively, the characters were vapid, self-centered and, might I add, damaged, jaded and merciless. The schoolteachers were distancing, an unfortunate behavior sometimes found amongst tenured professors in highly revered, upper learning institutions, art school or mainstream. Steve Buscemi (whose roles usually give me the creeps), uncredited, for whatever reason, again gave his creepy best to the slime-ball, pseudo art-gallery owner, whose barroom wall 'gallery' was always popular for the untried artists of nearby Strathmore.

Max Minghella is the main protagonist, heading an impressively large cast, most with minor roles and no lines. Art School Confidential certainly gives him the quirky movie role for his résumé, as he did a good job as the pensive, often dejected, yet wholly driven young artist Jerome. (Minghella was personable in Bee Season as the son of Richard Gere's father character, and then the son to George Clooney's father character in Syriana.) Minghella has strong features and an equally strong presence as a young actor. He is cast in the upcoming Elvis and Annabelle later this year. Maybe that role will land him more roles.

Joel Moore rendered an interesting portrayal of Jerome's sidekick, Bardo, the sophisticated albeit kooky, older student. He took the newbie, Jerome, under his wing, introducing him to the dark underbelly of the art world, which fascinated him utterly. His flawed character eventually failed to interest Jerome after his presentation of the 'facts of life.' Unfortunately, without his guidance, Jerome turned to Broadbent's character, Jimmy, with dire results. Jerome interpreted Bardo's worldview badly, accepting the defeatist, self-destructive attitude of so many of those he saw as successful artists, whose work Jerome did not admire or see as relevant or great works. If all artists today were bogus, then the art itself he was seeking most likely was of no value, any will do, if you are perceived to be good by those that matter in the heady upper echelons.

Sophia Myles, a young, attractive actor accumulating a hefty résumé (recently Isolde of this year's Tristan & Isolde), deftly conjured up Audrey. Glamorous and a wholly superficial child of the art world, her father a successful artist, and she a working art model and social butterfly, managed as best her lopsided viewpoint allowed—completely at home in this world of de facto, and usually false, winners. The Audrey character became unattractive when her fascination with Jonah (Matt Keeslar), who won everyone's praise and the school's dubious art show award of an 'A' (which everyone received). Similar to the distinction of idiot savant, Jonah nonetheless values the 'A' as if he alone got the actual 'A.' He was regarded as successful, therefore an obstacle to Jerome, who still coveted Audrey's attention. Audrey was the impetus of, and reward for, Jerome's evaluation of the art world—his resulting, flawed decisions were bizarre, in the least.