Ah, film. That exquisite, unsurpassable medium to which we are all enslaved. Film can do the impossible, taking us to places we’ll never go and introducing us to people we’ll never meet. Film turns people into icons and stories into legends, seamlessly coalescing fantasy and reality. Surrealist photographer Laurie Simmons positions her first feature, “My Art,” on such a precipice, examining the point at which filmic iconography meets everyday banality. Though the film is charming and cinematically reverential, its fictional artwork overshadows everything else, leaving behind a disjointed, ultimately missable narrative.
“My Art” centers on Ellie (Simmons), a 60-something New York art teacher surrounded by more successful acquaintances. When she spends the summer looking after an enormous estate in upstate New York, she finally gets the chance to pursue a project dedicated to classical Hollywood where she recreates iconic cinematic scenes. With the help of some eccentric locals, including widower Frank (Robert Clohessy) and playboy John (John Rothman), Ellie immerses herself in her artwork and tries to figure out where else she wants her life to go.
The narrative is punctuated by fantasy sequences and bits of Ellie’s fictional artwork, where Simmons, Clohessy and Rothman recreate scenes from films like “The Misfits,” “A Clockwork Orange,” and “Bell, Book and Candle.” These reimaginings are breathtaking and devout, the sort of effortful eye candy that any cinephile can’t help but inhale. Unfortunately, they’re the best part of the entire movie — and they hardly take up a quarter of its 90-minute run time. As a result, they read as a kind of gimmick instead of the robust, artistic filmmaking pieces they are.
It’s hard to tell whether the acting in “My Art” is so stilted because of an iffy director and script, or if its script and direction seem so shaky because of the acting. Given its capable cast, all signs point to the former. Despite performances from capable actors like Clohessy, Rothman, and Parker Posey, all the dialogue in this film feels like it’s been fed through a translator into Human English. Simmons herself is especially susceptible to this trend, with most of Ellie’s dialogue coming across as preachy or explanatory. It’s a curious pattern to observe, since Simmons’ turn in her daughter Lena Dunham’s “Tiny Furniture” wasn’t quite as robotic.
The plot — if you can call it that — is similarly bizarre, with no fleshed-out characters and a number of impulsive, self-indulgent add-ins. Ellie herself has almost no backstory. We’re not even told what kind of art she made before the film recreations, though a miniature scene makes a befuddling appearance, leaving us to wonder where the line is between Ellie and Laurie. Cinematic fantasy sequences pop up apropos of nothing, making it unclear whether or not they’re supposed to be tied to Ellie’s internal narrative or her actual projects. One character, Becky, is vexingly featured in fantasy sequences though she hardly says a word in the film’s “real world.” If these sequences were more obviously connected to something, or the baseline plot was more experimental, this would be a cool commentary on how Ellie cinematically views the world. Instead, they ring as shallow and incidental as the characters themselves.
“My Art” isn’t worth the watch just to see Ellie’s filmic reimaginings, which are sandwiched between unnatural dialogue and disorganized scenes. Ironically, with these pieces, Simmons proves herself a capable video artist, but fails to succeed as a feature director. These recreations would be better off in a gallery exhibition of their own, separate from the film itself. Because we don’t know anything about Ellie aside from her love of film, it’s difficult to root for her. Simmons is naturally charming, but that only goes so far in a film strung together by half-baked characters and a gimmick.
With an artistic genius like Laurie Simmons behind the camera, you’d hope “My Art” would be a masterpiece, the kind of film that can upend the entire medium. Instead, while it’s clear Simmons loves other directors’ movies, she saves none of that reverence and care for her own work. Though it’s occasionally interrupted by breathtaking artworks, “My Art” is far from a magnum opus. In fact, it ends up a milquetoast mess. [C]