A Bigger Splash

Jack Hazan's quasi-documentary A BIGGER SPLASH is an unfocused examination about the creative life of David Hockney and supposedly about the effect of his past relationship with his pupil Peter Schlesinger (an artist, sculptor, and photographer who Hockney not only enjoyed as a lover but as a disciple). The précis appears to be that Hockney, in the throes of disappointment about the dissolution of his affair with Peter, decides to move to California where he has already been established as a painter of California people and places.

In London we meet his friends - Celia Birtwell, the elegantly stylishly beautiful model Hockney used repeatedly, dress designer Ossie Clark, confidant Mo McDermott, and patron Henry Geldzahler - each of whom Hockney painted and drew. We watch as Hockney visits the galleries and admires works of his friends, how he paints in his studio, how he relates to his gallerists (like Paul Kasmin), and how he perceives men and other artists.

Peter Schlesinger figures prominently in the film with many episodes of Peter's swimming in the pools of the people Hockney would eventually immortalize. He is a fine presence and carries his silent role well - almost appearing as a ghost muse that keeps Hockney focused on his now infamous swimming pool paintings.

The magic of this film, for those to whom Hockney is a well known and important painter, is the visual recreation of the paintings that have made him so famous: we are allowed to see Celia and her husband with white cat in context with the canvas, the view of Peter staring into the pool at an under water swimmer, the woman and her animal heads who appears in another of Hockney's famous paintings at poolside, etc. This kind of cinematic background is valuable now and will prove invaluable to the archives of David Hockney. For those people this is a must-see film, despite its meandering technique and choppy editing. For others, it may seem too self-indulgent.

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.

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.

Seems that IMdB reviewers either hate or appreciate this film. As for me, I savored particular portions of this somewhat disjointed, dreamlike take on the early 1970s when Hockney was already thriving, while revealing glimmers of increased fame in the following decades. The choice of classical music was quite interesting throughout, and included snippets of operas... the vibe felt a bit over wrought, but it actually worked. Over the years, I've come to find Hockney to be an insightful, gifted, and innovative artist. His outlook towards using new technological inventions is admirable, and he has educated others on old master techniques and tools.

The camera (whether still frame or cinematic) makes the wide majority of subjects self-conscious. Even when they try to "be on their best", the viewer can interpret this "cover up" according to their own filters. For me, one of the most effective scenes in this film was when the art dealer Kasmin was trying to persuade Hockney to speed up his output so that the lusty whims of art collectors could be satisfied. Hockey appears slightly bemused and his face teases while he endures his gallerist's guidance. This push-pull dilemma is an age old struggle whenever an artist engages others to commercially sell their work. The rhythms of a successful artist's life are no longer their own.

As enticing and lovely as the fashion show segment was, I found it extended and a bit deflated. There were segments of the main characters coming and going to Hockney's place or to Celia's flat which felt stale. For anyone interested in Hockney, his comrades, and gay life in London during the early 70s, I would recommend this movie. Be forewarned though, the pace of some scenes drag, and there are fawning long takes of several choice people which unfortunately decrease the potential for surprise.

Seems to be one of those 1970s "gay identity" films. British tastes in art never do much for me. Hockney just comes across as an Andy Warhol wannabe--the artificial yellow hair, the I am an artist" eccentric eyeglasses. The flat one-note swimming pool paintings derived from commercial art styles and techniques. Warhol did stylized art of Marylin, Liz Taylor and Elvis--but he did a lot of other things in his art as well. Warhol's 'factory' was open to other creative people. A whole community grew out of his activities. Hockney's world seems like a soap opera of people in a self-indulgent little coterie/clique. Yes there is a swimming pool scene of nude young men with camera angles looking up their butts, and a glamorized but documentary-style shot of two guys having sex. Maybe that was 'cutting edge' for film in the 1970s--but now--who cares? And Warhol's many films about gays and transvestites that same period in New York were a lot more honest, and a lot more weird, and curiously, had a lot more vitality.

So--Hockney is not a very interesting or appealing person on film--just annoying, or out of his depth maybe. And the world has moved way past the gay "statement" films of 50 years ago.