A sculptor preparing to open a new show must balance her creative life with the daily dramas of family and friends in Kelly Reichardt’s vibrant and captivatingly funny portrait of art and craft.
Stellar reviews for Kelly Reichardt’s “Showing Up” were pretty much guaranteed before the film was even released. The auteur falls into that rare sub-category of filmmakers that, at least in the eyes of the critics, can do no wrong. A brief glance at her Rotten Tomatoes page reveals that her features don’t fall below the “85% fresh” score (although audiences tend to disagree).
The reason for this phenomenon mystifies me. Minimalist to the point where literally NOTHING happens, lacking any sense of momentum or drive, her films exemplify the term “art-house” and all of its negative connotations. Reichardt scales back on plot, characterizations, and dialogue to the point where you feel like you’re observing a museum exhibit or leafing through a photo album.
Her latest effort, “Showing Up,” is no different. Already at 90% on Rotten Tomatoes, it represents an arduous slog, 100 minutes of stalling. Michelle Williams, with whom Reichardt has worked before, plays Lizzy, a profoundly introverted, struggling sculptor in Oregon preparing for a show. Her landlord, Jo (Hong Chau), who ignores Lizzy’s requests to fix the broken water heater, also happens to be an artist — a much more vivacious, open one.
One day, Lizzy’s cat catches a pigeon. Lizzy throws the wounded bird out the window until Jo finds it, treats it, and brings it back to Lizzy. Consequently, Lizzy’s frozen exterior seems to thaw a bit. Spoiler alert: she has her show, the bird flies up toward the sky, the end.
Sure, Reichardt purports to study the lives of artists on the fringe, who will never end up in a high-end NYC gallery, sculpting, drawing, and tying strings together in their emerald-green Oregon backyards. It’s a quiet life, with modest ambitions and perpetual routines, by turns melancholy and free. Reichardt captures that essence without anchoring it in anything remotely compelling. Endless close-ups of Lizzy’s sculptures start to grate, as does Lizzy’s sullen face.
Perhaps Reichardt’s biggest fear is obviousness. If Jo opened up something in her, vibrancy and passion spurred by that damn pigeon, it would’ve been too obvious. The writer-director goes for something more complex here: how art demands humanity, how true art may be the resurrection of a wounded bird instead of dyed clay or bits of colorful rope lifelessly dangling from the ceiling. These fringe artists persevere, for they do not know of another way to live; the filmmaker even brings in two drifters who crash at Lizzy’s dad’s (Judd Hirsch) place to show the more extreme end of that spectrum.
But… so what? What POINT is she trying to make ultimately? That true art holds no monetary value? Or monetary value is detrimental to the creation of art? Or just “showing up” is enough to create art if you’re inherently an artist (whatever that means)? Not all films have to have a point, but a pointless film better holds me rapt with imagery or performances or SOMEthing for the entirety of its duration. “Showing Up” isn’t exactly visually ravishing. It contains very little dialogue and almost no memorable lines. Williams’s performance is one-note — with a sour expression, she strolls around in her worn-out crocs, bitching and complaining. If anything, “Showing Up” proves that merely showing up is far from enough.
Hong Chau, once again, is the stark highlight of the film (that’s been the case in every film/TV series where she’s appeared). Vibrant, unpredictable, charming, funny, and determined, Jo steals the show from everyone else.
In its pretentiousness and intermittent whimsy, “Showing Up” reminded me of Miranda July’s fare, which is arguably even more challenging to digest. I personally prefer Nicole Holofcener, whose films are similarly minimalist but speak volumes with a twitch of a character’s eyebrow, an off-handed remark, or an unexpected image. There’s real warmth and charisma in Holofcener’s fare — but more importantly, her films are entertaining. I defy you to be entertained by “Showing Up,” which scales things back so much; ANYthing in it can be interpreted as a metaphor, a symbol, or, you know, art.
In Theaters Friday, April 7th
