An absolutely fascinating documentary in that does what all documentaries are supposed to do: raise intriguing questions and leave you, the viewer, to make your own decisions. It's not a particularly well-made documentary (it's fairly sloppy and oddly paced), but it had an interesting premise that ends up being an even MORE interesting premise and was most definitely worth watching.
The film initially opens with a thesis questioning "What is art?", more specifically modern art, since that is a style that has had the titular accusation leveled at it since its origins, and with the main character of his story, it appeared one actually HAD: Four-year-old Binghamton, NY native Marla Olmstead had apparently painted pictures that were being hailed as the work of the next Picasso, the next Pollack, rocking the modern art world and provided all sorts of ammunition for assumed philistines. But then, 60 Minutes took a second look, and raised questions over whether or not this was actually her own whole work. They attempted to film her painting, and the painting she produced was drastically less accomplished than her other apparent works. Then, after installing a secret hidden camera, they recorded her father offscreen giving her basic but suspicious instructions, and produced yet another painting that looks noticeably dissimilar to her other works, and suddenly, Bar-Lev found himself in a precarious and unique position. He had never questioned the validity; he was looking to investigate a theme of a completely different look, and suddenly has the rug pulled out and decides that he now needs to look into this, and the film takes an even more fascinating turn...
The film, like the best documentaries, raises questions without judgment, and without attempting to tell you what to think, merely presenting the facts and allowing you to decide for yourself. My favorite talking-head involved in the film, the one who makes the most sense, is New York Times head art critic Michael Kimmelman, who comes off as informed, discerning and honest about his work. He is mostly disposed of after the subject of the documentary shifts, but his insightful comments color the entire film. Most of the rest of the interviewees are involved with the family, the mother, the father, a few art dealers, a few critics, and an author doing another piece on the family.
No genre is improved upon more by the DVD format and the concept of "extras" than the documentary, because unlike other forms of film, documentary stories don't just end once the cameras power down, and the addition materials, especially the half-hour of extra or extended footage is, while being equally nonjudgmental, incredibly damning towards the father, and I would be amazed if anyone came away from that footage still feeling that Marla's work was wholly her own just seems like they're not listening.
Overall, My Kid Could Paint That is a engrossing and unusual documentary that I most definitely recommend for anyone interested in art, documentary film-making, or anybody that likes a good story, especially one with a couple of twists.
{Grade: 8.5/10 (B+) / #23 documentary of all time}
The film initially opens with a thesis questioning "What is art?", more specifically modern art, since that is a style that has had the titular accusation leveled at it since its origins, and with the main character of his story, it appeared one actually HAD: Four-year-old Binghamton, NY native Marla Olmstead had apparently painted pictures that were being hailed as the work of the next Picasso, the next Pollack, rocking the modern art world and provided all sorts of ammunition for assumed philistines. But then, 60 Minutes took a second look, and raised questions over whether or not this was actually her own whole work. They attempted to film her painting, and the painting she produced was drastically less accomplished than her other apparent works. Then, after installing a secret hidden camera, they recorded her father offscreen giving her basic but suspicious instructions, and produced yet another painting that looks noticeably dissimilar to her other works, and suddenly, Bar-Lev found himself in a precarious and unique position. He had never questioned the validity; he was looking to investigate a theme of a completely different look, and suddenly has the rug pulled out and decides that he now needs to look into this, and the film takes an even more fascinating turn...
The film, like the best documentaries, raises questions without judgment, and without attempting to tell you what to think, merely presenting the facts and allowing you to decide for yourself. My favorite talking-head involved in the film, the one who makes the most sense, is New York Times head art critic Michael Kimmelman, who comes off as informed, discerning and honest about his work. He is mostly disposed of after the subject of the documentary shifts, but his insightful comments color the entire film. Most of the rest of the interviewees are involved with the family, the mother, the father, a few art dealers, a few critics, and an author doing another piece on the family.
No genre is improved upon more by the DVD format and the concept of "extras" than the documentary, because unlike other forms of film, documentary stories don't just end once the cameras power down, and the addition materials, especially the half-hour of extra or extended footage is, while being equally nonjudgmental, incredibly damning towards the father, and I would be amazed if anyone came away from that footage still feeling that Marla's work was wholly her own just seems like they're not listening.
Overall, My Kid Could Paint That is a engrossing and unusual documentary that I most definitely recommend for anyone interested in art, documentary film-making, or anybody that likes a good story, especially one with a couple of twists.
{Grade: 8.5/10 (B+) / #23 documentary of all time}