Paint

My interest in this movie comes from watching the real guy when I was a kid right after Barney and friends, but when I looked up his name, Bob Ross, as it turns out this is not a biopic.

Owen Wilson tells a joke exploiting Ross' Posthumous fame on the internet that pokes fun of the concept that Joy of Painting consist of 40-year-old footage watched by like 3 or 4 generations who watched it as if though they were the 1st despite how outdated his fashion sense was for all the generations. Adding to the joke is the relevant concept of how fulfilling and addicting being famous to a handful of people (in this case the locals who watch Wilson's character on PBS somewhere in Maine) can make a person feel. An interesting idea about the levels of selling out vs. Being true to your art.

It was funny when I saw the trailer and I thought Wilson was playing Bob Ross and that the Joy of Painting guy used his statis as an artist to get laid. Its less funny now that I know it's not Bob Ross. I see what they are trying to do but it was not funny. Paint was good for some obvious puns that made me giggle but no solid laughs.

It was supposed to be one of those quirky films that made fun of the mundane but it was mundane without being interesting. It was very not interesting.

Not worth seeing.

I see how many people hate this movie and I was hesitant to watch Paint because of it, but I thoroughly enjoyed this comedy. I love the aesthetics of the log cabin soft rock side of the 70s and was fed a steady diet of PBS as a small child in the 80s. This was so relaxing to watch. Plenty of Dolly Parton and John Denver to listen to at the Cheesepot Depot.

I'm not a huge disciple of Bob Ross, though I do respect his memory, so I'm also not angry about a comedy making fun of a soft-spoken ladies man with flowered lapels and a white man afro. I really cannot understand being that upset about satire that was built around a certain type of 70s guy not necessarily Bob Ross himself, but okay.

This is one of those films I would watch again just because I found it strangely comforting.

What a dull drab for a wonderful opportunity. The director really fell flat and didn't deliver on story or character development. Mostly felt contrived with very little substance outside a few bits that are to indicate who this faux bob ross is as a character. If I had to summarize this film beyond that I would say they really let Owen down on this one. The cover image alone gets you excited, as if to say this is Owen's come-back piece. Instead he got burned and had to do what he could with a script that felt as if it was subjected to writer's block in the first few paragraphs of act one. All in all I wouldn't recommend this film to anyone.

It's a well-intentioned movie that does have some interesting ways that it goes about delivering its messages about valuing what's important in life (especially towards the film's ending). And there were a handful of jokes that did get a good laugh out of me.

Unfortunately, that's about it as far as positives go. Bland by-the-numbers direction, shallowly-written characters, emotionally disconnected performances, and very little actual conflict make Paint an exceptionally boring film for the most part.

It takes far too long for the story to get to its most interesting parts, and for the better part of the first hour I was left wondering when the story was going to start.

I never understood what Owen Wilson's totally-not-Bob-Ross character really wanted or needed until the film's end, and even then it doesn't feel earned.

Every character and plot point is only shown at its very surface level, never giving you much reason to get invested in anything being presented. If I don't know anything about these people or events, why should I care? So I didn't care, and now I will never think about this movie again.

Britt McAdams' directorial debut "Paint," a joyless 96 (thank you) minutes, is an ill-conceived sendup of Public Broadcasting's artist-in-residence, Bob Ross. It's worth saying, the main character in this paint-by-numbers comedy, Carl Nargle (funny), isn't actually Ross. He is Owen Wilson, by way of Art Garfunkel. Yet like Ross, he paints how-to landscapes on public access television, in Vermont where the locals are holdover oddballs from "Newhart." And like Ross, he has a folksy, on-air style, wears denim a lot, sports a Toni Home Perm, and speaks softly (more seductive than instructive). To everyone's surprise, except his, of course, he is a popular success, especially with women, who seem drawn to him (no pun). In one over-played gag, his artwork makes women orgasm; needless to say, he's discovered the joy of painting. Such is, more or less, the premise here: not much else to hang a smock on, just one joke, and McAdams' screenplay beats the devil out of it.

True to form, Wilson returns to his comic roots to bring off his trademarked persona, the same he's honed over the years on television and in movies, and in movies based on television. A natural clown, he selects from a grab bag of expressions, ticks, and quirks. His schtick, one might say, is a limited palette, like a typical Ross landscape: familiar, yet naive. He's also somewhat attractive--from a distance--and can be humorous if given the opportunity, which this movie fails to do, resorting only to the tried and true, as when Carl scrambles to steal newspapers with bad reviews, a bit that's been done before (I think Berle did it).

Carl is typical of Wilson's cast of characters: a self-deluded, man child, fumbling his way through life, could be certifiable, yet laughable, affable--a joke, really. Bob Ross was something of a joke, too, perhaps, but, while the joke was about him, unlike Carl, it was never on him.