The Justice

Media Credit: Parker Film Company/Samuel Goldwyn Adam Goldberg hits the indie screen yet again as Adrian, an artist with bold opinions and numerous failed attempts at masterpieces.

When it comes to art, I am one of the unenlightened. If you try to talk to me about Rembrandt, I'll just go on a tirade about why I prefer Colgate (I feel very strongly about teeth whitening products). The only reason I know anything about Van Gogh is because I am morbidly curious about people who cut off their own extremities. And if you brought me to a contemporary art museum, I'd probably spend 90 percent of our trip proclaiming in a very loud and embarrassing manner: "You call this art? Anyone and his brother could splatter paint on a canvas/pee into a bucket/freeze-dry a shark/do something else that is frequently passed off as contemporary art."

So, it seemed appropriate that an artistically unaware, modern-art-mocking barbarian like myself go to see (Untitled), the new film by writers Jonathan Parker and Catherine di Napoli. (Untitled), which stars the talented likes of Adam Goldberg and Marley Shelton as eccentric artist Adrian and gallery owner Madeleine, respectively, pokes fun at the New York art scene as the film follows Adrian's attempts to further his career while carrying on a romance with Madeleine.

Unfortunately, the film puts aside plot and character development in favor of devoting the majority of its time to lampooning the art world, which makes for decent entertainment at best and for characters that are as inaccessible and static as paintings situated behind velvet ropes.

In regard to the former point, (Untitled)'s treatment of the artistically oriented ranges on the satire spectrum from being clever to being heavy-handed, but it more often nears the latter: There are no redeeming figures in (Untitled), but rather only a collection of over-the-top, borderline psychotic stereotypes (Adrian describes one artist's potential as being more in the realm of serial killing than creating art) with delusions of grandeur.

It's difficult to like such characters as is, but it's even more difficult when the only side of the characters the audience sees is the gallery-worthy public persona: Even when they're alone, characters never reveal any kind of motivation or depth, and, what's worse, the artists never undergo any growth. By the film's end, when you want to see Adrian and company creating the emotional equivalent of the Mona Lisa, they're still scribbling portraits not fit for the refrigerator.

Continued...

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