RIOTUS

If all you know about a movie going in is that it’s directed by Steven Soderbergh, written by Ed Solomon, and stars a two-hander power-punch combination of Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel, then you know enough. But if you still have doubts, add Jessica Gunning and James Corden to the mix— and allow them to stir up the trouble. 

I knew next to nothing about The Christophers going in, but I saw it with three other visual artists and, at the end, we all kind of nodded at each other—because we felt seen. Before I tell you why, the film starts with a very simple premise. The grown but bratty children (Gunning and Corden) of a world-famous painter (McKellen) hire a former classmate (Cole) to forge his unfinished paintings so they can sell them and get rich. Why? Because their father can’t stand them and they know they’re likely to get nothing more than one of his two houses. 

As Coel’s Lori works her way into the legendary Julian Sklar’s confidence, the similarities between the two are revealed in the subtleties of his contentious nature and the deceptions behind her stoic façade. Coel never lets us forget Lori is hiding something beyond what we know. While McKellen jumps into Sklar with both feet, reveling in his angry disillusionment and regrets. The more the pair bump heads, the more we begin to understand how much they needed each other—because they’d lost their inspiration, and for an artist, that is always an early death.

As I mentioned, The Christophers is a two-hander that could trick you into thinking you’re watching a play. But the theater is not the only art form the film pays homage to. Soderbergh shoots much of it in one of Sklar’s adjoined townhouses, giving the director a wondrously textured palette of shadows and patches of sunlight, combined with dust, aging oil-painted brushstrokes on the walls, yellowing unfinished canvases, and the mixed patterns of McKellen’s costuming contrasted with the solid colors and modern lines of Coel’s.

At times, I was reminded of the paintings by the Dutch Masters¹, in the way, the background recedes into warm earthy tones, allowing the figures to pop forward in the light. In other instances, Soderbergh allows the focus around the edges to blur, to pull us into a moment of indecision or distrust. Adding depth, the titular set of paintings—in various stages—was created by production designer Antonia Lowe and painter Barnaby Gorton. That realism will be appreciated by visual artists. 

All of that makes The Christophers a beautiful film, but the visuals are not the only reason for its beauty. Artists and cinephiles will appreciate this movie for its truth. It understands the world of art, the commodification of art, and the limbo those things leave the artist in. It’s the story of two incredibly talented people who have disappointed themselves and each other. But The Christophers also asks if it’s better to sell a painting to someone who only understands its value or to gain nothing by sharing it with someone who feels its worth? Also, what do we sacrifice when our loved ones become merely subjects for our craft? There are a lot of questions here, many of them deep, but often amusing because they feel so real. 

At its core, The Christophers is a film about atonement and redemption, friendship and inspiration, and what it means to pour your soul onto a canvas and let the world decide whether or not it matters. The character studies are sharp, the filmmaking is gorgeous, and the storytelling is so good. I want to see it again.

1. “The legacies of the Old Masters continue to reverberate through the corridors of art history and contemporary inspiration. Dutch Old Masters like Vermeer, Rembrandt, and Hals remain celebrated for their exploration of light and emotion, while Velázquez’s contributions to portraiture and composition continue to inspire contemporary artists worldwide.” from ‘Shadows and Light: The Majestic World of Dutch Old Masters’ by Rau Antiques ↩︎