Art School Confidential (2006)

WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT TALENT?

In 1989, comic creator Daniel Clowes published Eightball, a series that featured numerous short stories and character pieces, as well as small diatribes and rants on various subjects. Amongst these stories was a four-page comic piece entitled Art School Confidential, which showed up in issue seven in 1991. Essentially a satirical exposé based on Clowes’ experiences in art school, the short piece became a fan favourite, most of who recognised the very character types Clowes wrote about. After the success of the film version of another Clowes property, Ghost World, the idea was struck to bring another one to the big screen. The popularity of the Art School Confidential piece made it the natural choice, with Clowes getting back together with Ghost World director Terry Zwigoff for the latest adaptation.

Jerome (Max Minghella) is a young guy from the suburbs who wants to be a famous artist, and heads to New York City’s Strathmore College for his freshman year as a drawing major. However, his fellow students are all nuts and the faculty care more about their own art projects. Even worse is the serial killer murdering people in the immediate area. Jerome also falls for Audrey (Sophia Myles), a model for his life-drawing class, but she seems more interested in Jonah (Matt Keeslar), whose primitive work draws raves from everyone, and the influence of the cynical failed artist Jimmy (Jim Broadbent) does little to lighten his mood.

As I said, what really sold the idea of adapting this piece into the next film version of a Daniel Clowes work was its great popularity amongst the comic book’s fans. When he wrote it originally, Clowes imagined only a handful of people would get it, and those would all be friends of his. It was perhaps a little short-sighted of him, since his Eightball series would have most likely earned him a fanbase amongst the art school crowd. Since this was the case, these art school students loved seeing someone expose the “million-dollar racket” of their college experience, shining a light on all the different kinds of oddballs, clichés and cretins that populated their hallways and classrooms. And the character types he looks at are great stuff, and they certainly make the transition from page to screen well, with several new additions.

Jerome is the film’s main character, and he’s the sincere guy who wants to be an artist because art is what he loves. He’s initially a little bland because he knows what kind of stuff he wants to do and merely wants the proper recognition and guidance to help him get there. When he finds himself surrounded by the various hipster/hippy/beatnik/angry/untalented/precious types, who all seem to get along much better than him, his confidence is shaken and he starts to become desperate to win the accolades and attention he thinks he should have. Indeed, it’s his exposure to his fellow students’ hostility and his teachers’ apathy that make him interesting. His one ray of hope in the whole place is that he seems to be making some headway with Audrey, the stunning young woman who poses nude for his class. However, it’s the increasing sense of despondency and bitterness he feels that makes it harder for him to get very far. Max Minghella plays Jerome well, a fresh-faced kid who does become more cynical as the film moves on.

The whole film is strewn with other great and interesting characters. Joel David Moore plays Bardo, the one who introduces Jerome around. Bardo is in his third year in the school as a freshman, because he constantly drops out and comes back with a different major. He knows the system and the people that come along every year, so he is able to spot the clichés a mile off, ticking them off with an amused derision as he points out each of them to Jerome in class. He’s also not above counting himself amongst the clichés, so he’s clearly very self-aware.

Jerome’s two roommates are Matthew and Vince. Matthew, played by Nick Swardson, is a pretty standard kind, the obviously gay, but completely closeted fashion student. Frankly, there’s little done with Matthew that’s funny, moving or even affects the plot, so he’s not much use. On the other hand, Ethan Suplee is on great form as Vince, the incredibly excitable and aggressive film student who has all the subtlety of a brick going through a plate-glass window… filmed in Cinerama… with surround sound… in 3D. He’s obsessed with making a film, but he seemingly has absolutely no concept on how film works, so it’s just garbled mess. I’ve been to film school (of sorts) and I have totally met this guy.

John Malkovich and Anjelica Huston each play teachers at polar ends of the scale. Huston is the unnamed Art History teacher, who seeks to engage with her students and discuss what art can mean as a representation of the artist and society. However, she is only met with contemptuous snorts from the class, who seem to think that because she used Hamlet, War and Peace and Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony, it means she’s saying that good art must come from dead, white males. Her mild frustration is clear, but she remains unrattled by her students’ sneering defensiveness. Malkovich is the flip side to this. His Professor Sandiford is a pretentious ass, still trying to make it as an artist himself, so mostly shows indifference to his students’ work because, as Clowes puts it in the comic, “the last thing they want is more competition.” He’s also got a mild hint of the sexual predator about him, which his students seem to mistake as teacherly guidance, and think the world of him.

The two best characters, and the ones that come closest to the tone of the source material are Jimmy, the alcoholic failed artist and Strathmore graduate, and Marvin Bushmiller, the unabashedly hostile success story of the college art program. Jimmy is played by Jim Broadbent, and his frankness and unbridled cynicism make him a great antidote to the pomposity of the college, even if he is quite unsettling. Marvin Bushmiller is even better, played with caustic egotism by Adam Scott. Bushmiller is the one artist who made it, and returns for an evening of questions in which he seeks to mock the institution and try to get everyone to realise just how rich he is. When someone asks him what art will be like in the future, he dismisses it as a stupid and completely irrelevant question. When someone asks why he’s such an asshole, he responds, “Now, that’s a great question. No, it really is!”

Considering all of these characters, and the spirit of the source material, you’d think that the film would virtually write itself into something full of wit and irony… sadly this is not the case.

When you don’t consider the popularity of the original Art School Confidential as a factor, what makes the fact that it was chosen as the next adaptation so odd is that it is literally four pages of storyless rants. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve been known to indulge in such things myself. And what’s there is really very funny and honest, if incredibly bitter, although nothing that was as developed as Ghost World, which spanned eight issues and did have something of a story to it. As such, the decision to develop this much smaller piece into a film would require coming up with a story with which you could actually string these somewhat disparate segments together. Given the format of the original comic piece, and the retention of the title, you would expect perhaps some sort of journalistic thread that would run through it all. Perhaps the main character could offer a narration in the form of diary entries or letters home. Has it been done before? Yes, plenty of times. However, not only would it fit the tone of the piece, it would be infinitely preferable to the utterly generic murder subplot that becomes the main drive of the film. Although it does provide some good stuff for Vince’s attempted filmmaking project, it starts to take over the whole film, infecting the various relationships in the film and crippling their development. Perhaps Clowes and Zwigoff were trying to say something about the lack of inspiration in art, or a statement about bad film adaptations, which Clowes actually wrote about in Eightball, as Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron. But, if this is what they were shooting for, they missed considerably. It seems more likely that Clowes simply had no idea as to what to do with it, and so hastily constructed some slapdash crime plot for his characters to wander through. It’s as if Clowes and Zwigoff took inspiration from Natural Born Killers or Ace in the Hole, making some attempt at media satire, but without the clever savagery of either. Hell, even Airheads hit the mark better than that. It would have worked out much better for Art School Confidential if they had taken inspiration from something like Rushmore. Now, obviously we don’t really need another Rushmore, but I’d be much more satisfied with that as a conceptual muse rather than something you’d get on a bad episode of Criminal Minds… and I really like that show.

Art School Confidential could have been a witty, insightful and perhaps a rather touching film. The performances are decent and the characters will be instantly recognisable to anyone who’s ever studied any kind of art. However, the whole is fatally compromised by the serial killer subplot, which just steals time, focus and destroys any kind interest you’ve built up for these characters. If it had been kept as a straight character piece, it could have worked, but the common crime aspect is just too much to take.

American History X (1998)

VIOLENCE AS A WAY OF LIFE

Racism… feel the eerie chill that runs through the room when the subject is brought up. It’s an old issue, but still holds all of the power to antagonise and divide today. Some people believe it’s a simple issue of perception; others believe it to be one of, if not The most complex and thorny subject in society. It’s a heavy topic and, in the tradition of the artist’s need to explore the many problems of society, it has been the focus of so many works, from novels to films to music to painting to sculpture… like I say, it’s a big one. In 1998, another film was released to explore this subject: American History X.

A brutal skinhead named Derek Vinyard (Edward Norton) is tried and sent to prison for the murder of two black men who tried to steal his truck. When he gets paroled three years later, Derek emerges reformed, but finds that his younger brother Danny (Edward Furlong), who grew up idolising his brother, is following him down the same path. Derek resolves to save his brother from the same fate.

American History X had something of a tortured birth. It was the first script from writer David McKenna and the first film for director Tony Kaye. The story has a good central conceit and Kaye certainly seemed to have an idea of, at least, how he wanted to the film to look. The problem came much later on, during the editing process. Kaye, who was editing the film himself, was taking a while to finish. New Line Cinema, who were behind the film, didn’t like his version and made several suggestions as to what they wanted from the final cut. Kaye begrudgingly then came up with a second, much shorter version of the film. New Line apparently rejected it right away and took the task of editing away from Kaye, bringing in editors Jerry Greenberg and Alan Heim (who got final credit) and Edward Norton to come up with a new version for release. Angry at this decision, Tony Kaye disowned the film and tried to have his name taken off of the project. However, because he openly spoke about his reasons for doing so in Variety, he violated the rules of the Director’s Guild of America and was not allowed to remove his name. Kaye then sued both the DGA and New Line for violation of his right to free speech. Pretty messed up, isn’t it?

I suspect the reason that Kaye was taking so long to come up with his best edit of the film was because he saw a problem with it that he was trying his best to cover, which pretty much seems to exist at the scripting stage. In the chronology presented by the film, Derek starts off as a teenager in high school, intelligent but naïve. We see that the beginnings of his hatred, or at least mistrust, of people of other races rests with what his dad taught him at the dinner table. Derek’s father was clearly a big part of his life, as he alludes to how important he was to him. However, we really only have this one scene to show what the father is like and how that inevitably leads to Derek becoming the skinhead we meet at the film’s opening. It does make a kind of sense, but it still seems like quite a leap, especially since this is the only time we see the father. We already know that he was killed when he was shot trying to put out a fire in black neighbourhood, which Derek immediately takes as being clear evidence that black people have no respect for law, property or life. A couple more scenes would perhaps have helped sell this trajectory more, but as it is, it’s a lot to hang on a single scene.

Also, there is a constant shift in narrative perspective, though this is made easier to handle due to Kaye’s decision to film past events in black and white and present events in colour. Most of the film is told in flashback, narrated by Danny as he tries to write a paper on his brother. He recounts the big moments that he was present for in Derek’s growth into the skinhead leader, which serve for some powerful scenes. However, because all we can see of the past is what Danny saw, we don’t get answers for some questions that would have been very interesting. For example, how did Derek fall in with Cameron Alexander (Stacy Keach), the man who fed him the white supremacist stuff, to begin with? This is a hugely significant moment of Derek’s life and incredibly important to our understanding of his development, but since Danny was not privy to this, neither are we. It just happens. Even then, there are some slight holes in this point of narration, such as his mother talking to Murray outside their home. Then we have the moments of the present, which are free of narrative constriction, so we can go where we want, follow whomever we want. Under these conditions, we split our time mainly between Derek and Danny, with the occasional deviation into glimpses of other characters. Then there is a second, more extended flashback sequence from Derek, telling Danny about his time in prison. So, within the film, there are three shifts in perspective. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does leave the whole feeling a bit disjointed.

Ultimately, the problem with the script is that it tries to do too much. It wants to open a debate on racial politics, it wants to meditate on the nature of hatred, it wants to show the brutal actions and the more brutal consequences of these characters, it wants to scare, it wants to educate, it wants to offer a small glimmer of hope… the script simply can’t do all of these things in a concise and erudite manner. As I said, I think that’s what Tony Kaye was trying to compensate for in the editing suite. He saw that some scenes were not really carrying the full impact that they should have, and tried to work around it. Not that the edit we see is without problems. Often, characters are ignored when you really feel they would have had something to say. For example, there’s the scene where the Vinyard family are at the dinner table and Derek’s father is telling him not to swallow all of the “affirmative black-tion bullshit”. This scene seems to exist only for Derek and his father… but the rest of the family are present. Don’t they have any thoughts on this? We know Davina, Derek’s sister, would disagree, but she stays silent. There isn’t even a shot of her during all this. Why? Again, this seems like the kind of thing that results from a script that hasn’t been properly conceived and a direction that hasn’t been properly focused. Saying that, there is report that part of Norton’s input in the editing process was to give himself more screen time, which could also explain such a problem.

So, yes, I do think that there some problems with the film on a basic level of conception, but this is all stuff that speaks to, for lack of a better way of putting it, my filmic intellect. If I ignore the problems of narrative or plot, what does the film do on an emotional level? It’s a very emotive subject, so it would be foolish to ignore the impact that emotion has. I find the film very disquieting and unsettling, but I say that in a good way. The film may seem more like a string of scenes on some occasions, but these scenes do have power to them. This is pretty much thanks to some excellent performances onscreen. Edward Furlong often gets relegated to simply watching events happen, being that he is the conduit for the viewer, but he does carry himself well in the role. He shows that Danny isn’t really a believer in all of this neo-Nazi crap, but goes along with it because it gives him a sense of being and a social life, not to mention because it makes him feel closer to his brother, whom he clearly admires. Ethan Suplee’s Seth is a repulsive individual, offensive in almost every aspect, even to his own friends, who put up with him only because he’s so intimidating. Avery Brooks is a firm and dignified presence in the film as Sweeney, one of the few people willing to meet Derek and engage with his ideals. Guy Torry gets overlooked a lot, but his is a rather important role. His Lamont is Derek’s first real interaction with a black person as equals, which only happens because Lamont wins him over with humour. If he wasn’t convincing, there would be a real weak spot to Derek’s story. Beverly D’Angelo also gets a rather overlooked show in the film, but is rather touching as Derek’s much put-upon mother. However, this film belongs to Edward Norton. He’s a force in this film, both emotional and physical. He comfortably carries the early Derek’s slightly unsure teenage self; through to his rather scary incarnation as an instigator of hate (the look of pride on his face after he murders two people is very unsettling); and finally to his reformed and repentant self, trying to severe his connections to his past life for the good of his family.

American History X is a good, but flawed film, which holds some great performances, especially from Norton. However, there is something that stands in the way of it being the really great film that you know it wants to be. There are small technical issues with some of the camerawork, but the structure of the film remains the biggest the obstacle to overcome, which sees the final message maybe a little hard to nail down. Nevertheless, I do like the film. It’s provocative and deeply unsettling and doesn’t really offer a clean conclusion. I’m not sure it makes its point as powerfully as it wants to, but it does at least try.