Bryan Miller
Steven Soderberg’s latest, the gently twisty art-world caper The Christophers, is so concerned with the evolution of an artist’s style that it invites the question: If he was a painter, what kind of painter would Soderbergh be?
He’s far too literal to be an impressionist or surrealist, too spartan to vibe with the baroque. It’s tempting to compare him to Andy Warhol, if only for his pop proclivities and the fact that he cranks out new works like a factory, but the sensibility is all wrong; Soderbergh might utilize irony and celebrity, but he never risks being subsumed by them.
My vote goes to the contemporary American artist Mark Tansey, whose controlled lines and formally composed images of science and history are laced with wry self awareness. I’m thinking especially of 1984’s Action Painting II. Soderbergh’s not-much-loved 2002 film Full Frontal ends on a punchline that might as well be a Tansey painting in motion. Most of Soderbergh’s filmography incorporates that self-awareness and then pushes past it. He’s not going to let subtext dampen his genuine enthusiasm for the surface, whether that be the literal objects of his slick production design or the tropes of the genres in which he traffics.
The fictional artist at the center of The Christophers is Julian Sklar (Ian McKellen), a one-time titan of contemporary painting who bolstered and ultimately sacrificed his reputation as the catty Simon Cowell-esque co-host of a reality TV show called Art Fight. Sklar eventually rejects the art world and settles into his role as an eccentric recluse mostly accessible by Cameo videos. But when his work undergoes a critical (and financial) revival, his two scheming children (Baby Reindeer’s Jessica Gunning and Cats’ James Corden) hatch a money-making scheme to hire another artist to complete a series of his unfinished works. They’ll all make millions when old codger finally croaks.
The kids’ reluctant partner in crime is Lori (I May Destroy You’s Michaela Coel), an expert restorationist and bright talent in her own right, at least before it was dimmed by an early run-in with Sklar himself. Lori agrees to pose as Sklar’s new assistant so that she may locate his stash of unfinished canvases and complete the paintings herself in exchange for a hefty cut of the loot. Trouble is, Sklar is old, not a fool. He sees through the ruse. Meanwhile, Lori has secrets of her own that both compromise with the Sklar children and put her under the older artist’s sway. As the two of them joust, allegiances —both financial and artistic — begin to shift, forcing both painters to confront what they’ve given up and what work they may still have left to do.
There’s a version of this story that plays more like a traditional heist movie, a mode Soderbergh is obviously comfortable working in. Instead, the script by Ed Solomon is almost exclusively concerned with the intellectual duel between Lori and Julian, so much so that the movie could easily be adapted into a stage play. Yes, there’s some grappling with cancel culture. Julian is a contrarian, self-pitying narcissist with a streak of lechery. His parrying with Lori over this topic is both believable and the least interesting part of their discourse. Far more interesting is her perceptive take on his stylistic decline, and his explanation of the way passion and personal feelings can both drive and divert the work.
Lori is as good a reference point to Soderbergh as Julian, even if he’s entering his elder statesman era. Lori’s belief in her own unique talent has been shaken, but her knack for hyper-specific mimicry is unquestioned. Soderbergh most definitely has a style all his own, but he’s about as comfortable as any modern director in moving through different forms and genres, not just from crime to comedy to drama to horror, but from blockbuster to Oscar bait to the arthouse fringes. Toss in a little prestige TV just for good measure. (You really should see The Knick.) He’s pliable yet rigidly devoted to his own pursuits, which makes him ideal to represent both sides of Lori and Julian’s ongoing debate.
An exceptionally talky movie like this doesn’t work without near-perfect calibration between the two leads, which is no problem here. McKellen, deep into his ‘80s, remains an absolute powerhouse, savoring lengthy, single-take monologues spiked with wit but laden with melancholy. Coel’s character may be initially intimidated by Sklar, but Coel the actress is downright steely going toe to toe with the old master. The result is an art-wonk thriller that’s perhaps a bit more wonky than thrilling, but that’s by design. The Christophers continues the low-key hot streak Soderbergh is on with the similarly cerebral, airtight entertainments of Black Bag and Presence.
