As observational documentaries go, Frederick Wiseman's "National Gallery" is pretty close to sublime. In typical Wiseman style there's no voice-over and no score; he simply places his cameras and his microphones inside the buildings and lets us see the paintings and hear the words spoken by the staff, at meetings or in discussing the art with the public. It lasts for three hours and if you love great art you just might have an orgasm watching the flow of masterpieces lovingly framed and spoken about. However, if art isn't quite your bag this might be the most boring film ever made.
At least Wiseman doesn't do it all in one continuous take, the way Sokurov did with "Russian Ark" whose roving camera induced in me a feeling of seasickness. Wiseman plumps for detail and how. The art is, of course, extraordinary but so too are the faces of the punters who come to stare. The screen itself becomes a canvas in which Wiseman's camera paints the faces of these onlookers and it is beautiful to behold. What's less beautiful are the commentaries of the gallery's guides as they try to 'explain' the paintings to the various tour guides. Love it or loathe it, it isn't like any other film about 'art' that you are likely to see which is some sort of achievement in itself.
