A Bigger Splash

I wanted to like this movie but I ended up fast forwarding through a lot of it.

Hockney's paintings have always fascinated me. The quality of space and light and the combination of isolation and transcendence that fills the mysterious spaces in his paintings remind of Hopper--you know, the guy who painted that famous picture of the customers in the all-night diner--The Nighthawks.

When the camera is panning Hockney's fascinating and enigmatic canvases, the film works, because his canvases are so good. In those few moments when Hockney discusses his life or his work, the film works. I especially liked the brief scene where a gallery owner (Kasmin) is trying to convince Hockney to paint faster. It is reminiscent of that scene in Amadeus when the emperor (I think) complains to Mozart that there are "too many notes" in his music.

The film also works when it shows Hockney at work.

But that's about it. These moments, while they linger in the mind, only make up a small part of the film.

The rest of it *seems* to be about Hockney's breakup with his lover. However, there is virtually no exposition. Let me repeat. There is virtually no exposition. The director appears to suppose, wrongly so, that the audience will somehow already know or easily intuit the issues that separated Hockney and Schlessinger(?). Or maybe he assumes that they are just too obvious and commonly understood to bear repetition.

As for the lover, you *see* a great deal of him, but he mostly pouts and sulks and prances about. The film does not reveal whatever it was that drew Hockney to him or held them together or what drove them apart.

You hear virtually nothing about what these men were to each other, why they loved each other, why their relationship failed----nothing.

The problem, of course, is that the film and the bulk of the screen time is supposedly devoted to the failure of Hockney's relationship.

Nor do other people in the film have anything of an insightful or even informative nature to say about the relationship or anything else for that matter. They seem like a surprisingly bored and boring bunch of people.

One of the issues 'dealt with' in the film is whether or not Hockney will leave London for the US and not return. If this film accurately portrays Hockney's life in London, then it is blindingly obvious why he would want to leave London.

Oh, and there's a lot of walking around and, I think, some completely gratuitous frontal nudity, and some pretty boys splashing around naked in a pool. But what's the big deal about that? That sort of footage is widely available.

And the blooming' film goes on for two hours.

So I think this film richly deserves its very low rating. Watch something else.

This film is a snapshot of Hockney's life in London in the early 70s.

It's often unintentionally funny. The talk is mostly so boring, but that's often the case as artists express themselves through images, not words. They're rarely fascinating to listen to. Read or listen to any Hockney interview today and it's just as unimpressive.

I guess the homosexual love making and the male nudity was quite avant-garde in its day and of course naked young men hanging around swimming pools in LA is what was on Hockney's mind and canvases back then.

I enjoyed the snapshot of the Portobello Road area of London at that time and the New York locations.

The dialogue is unintentionally hilarious....sort of: 'Are you going to New York, David?' 'I might go, I prefer L.A.'

'Why don't you invite,Celia (Birtwell)? to go to New York, David?' 'I might, but she doesn't like it there, she prefers stylish people. She likes nice clothes. I don't particularly notice them.'

& again, later... 'Will you stay in New York, David?' 'I might, but I don't think I will. I prefer L.A.'

But the film does capture what it sets out to capture. David Hockney's life and work and personality (if that's not too strong a word), circa 1972.

The fast forward button is definitely your friend during the particularly long and draggier sections.

This is an odd quasi-documentary ostensibly about Hockney's breakup with his protégé and lover (Peter Schlesinger) and, to some extent, its effect on his painting and on his relationships with his friends and colleagues.

Very unfortunately the result is a mish-mash: some glimpses into what passes for access into the worlds of art and fashion (one particularly long fashion show scene is almost painful to watch); musings on the relative merits of London, France, Italy, New York and California (early-70s New York comes off as truly wretched); contextless vignettes of Hockney's friends and colleagues, who could not possibly be as dull as they are presented here; some actually interesting looks at Hockney's techniques, including "joiner" collages he used to construct elements of his paintings; and all this punctuated with what is supposed to be an examination of the breakup between Hockney and his younger boyfriend. A good bit of gay sex and nudity are thrown in to spice things, and while it was assuredly arresting in 1973, very little of it feels very sensual, and certainly not erotic. Their relationship is left entirely unexamined, so at best one might conclude that Peter is more self-absorbed even than Hockney or that he simply prefers the company of men more his age. Ho-hum.

This might have been a lot more interesting at 45 minutes: you might not notice how inconsequential it all seems.

Artist David Hockney is such a lively colorful figure that one might expect a film about his life and art to be a bubbly romp. But Jack Hazan takes quite a different route. He followed Hockney and his circle of friends around for quite a considerable amount of time -- shooting in 35mm, rather than 16mm as was popular for documentary films at this time. Moreover, rather than aim for a "cinema verite" styled "truth," Hazan deals in fantasy and melodrama. The action covers a period in which Hockney and his lover and model, Peter Schlesinger, are breaking up. Hockney is having what appears to be a somewhat difficult time finishing a large canvas for which Schlesinger was the subject, and Hazan suggests that the end of the relationship played a part in this difficulty. But he only suggests. He doesn't offer a set conclusion. What he does do is utilize film as means of entering Hockney's visual world. Many of his close friends and associates, including Ozzie Clark, Celia Birtwell, Patrick Procktor and Henry Geldzahler make appearances conversing with Hockney -- whose verbal wit is everywhere apparent. Most daring of all is scene in which Schlesinger and another young man make love.

When he finally saw the results Hockney was both surprised and slightly appalled. "Two hours of weeping music," he called it. No surprise as "A Bigger Splash" gets a lot closer to Hockney's inner and outer life than he probably imagined it would.

A very important film for art lovers, and a very important piece of gay cinema.

Often just one watt above tedious, this sluggish yet occasionally fascinating doco about Brit artist David Hockney and the creation of his California Pool paintings clashing with the breakup of the young man of his poolside fancies makes for maddening viewing. Maybe it should have been 80 minutes instead of 108. However what is there is always just about to be really interesting and perhaps now in 2011, forty years after filming it is a 'record of the time' as opposed to 'that boring documentary'. In a strange way I found the London flats and wet cold streets and domestic shuffling about on cold mornings or dull afternoons all quite evocative, and gave me a true feeling for 'that day there then' which I rather liked... but up until the point that each scene really went nowhere and Hockney's affected style and goggle glasses were almost just a stunt of his own life. It really is just a portrait of a very ordinary man who happens to be able to paint quite interesting early 70s imagery of his time.... and the fact that the film contains quite explicit nudity to zap it all awake occasionally. The California scenes at the pool are quite beautiful especially now they are 40 years ago, and offer a diversion from the grey London life. They also allow the great paintings to come to life, which is well realised. Jack Hazan, the producer and director clearly has created a quality film of excellent production values (35mm and good sound) and it is to him that the film actually belongs. One scene when Hockney slashes then cuts up one canvas will make art dealers scream with horror at the value being shredded. The film overall is a valentine to Hockney 1971-3 and viewed 40 years later is one of which they alone could be proud. I thought of Ken Russell and the era of his British film productions of the early 70s. It seemed to be the world Russell might also inhabit. I found A BIGGER SPLASH to be very pedestrian yet I wanted to watch it all to see if it got any more interesting. in the end it wasn't but I did get a strong feel of the times and place and I did like that... but that is Jack Hazan's work, not Hockney's. It is all really just a very well captured home movie of Brit life in cold flats in 1971.