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.

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 is a fly-on-the-wall documentary, but the room with the wall and the fly on it isn't very interesting. I hoped to learn something about why Hockney paints what he does and as he does, and/or about who he is. If this film is to be believed, he is a boring, self-obsessed man.

Much of the footage adds nothing to our knowledge of him or his work. Even when he talked about other painters' work it was not informative, since the camera was on him, not on what he was talking about. Only once did the film give an insight into Hockney's painting, cutting from his representation of the refractions of waves on the bottom of a swimming pool as serpentine lines, to the refractions themselves in unpaintable motion.

Far too much (street scenes, people coming, going and standing about, a fashion show, idle chat) seems to have been included for no particular reason at all.

I suspect that the nudity and the gay ambiance, novelties in 1974, have given this film a cachet it never deserved.

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.

Ive saved this film to my watchlist for a long time, saving it for when i can appreciate watching it rather than background noise.

I rather liked the film. You have to know Hockney and his works to understand it. Yes it dragged in parts but i didnt mibd that, its artistic not a full on gangster shoot out.

It was nice seeing full male nudity on screen as this is very rare even these days, it makes a change to see instead of naked women all the time.

Great to see ossie and Celia in the film..sadly ossie passed away in the 90s and this is a rare bit of footage of him.

The premise of the film is simple enough, but done in hockneys own artistic way. I liked it as much as his art.