The movie is an ambitious attempt that suffered from one major problem. The movie's great ambition is to define art, true art that expresses a true human experience, and to differentiate it from overpriced items collected by dumb rich people who wish to buy taste and sophistication with money.
The movie's major problem is that it failed to translate this message into a comprehensible cinematic experience which could reach, and be enjoyed by, the largest possible audience. What A pity . Let me try to show you how this happened:
The story here is a fantasy based on an interesting magical assumption: What if the experience reflected by each and every work of art becomes real, and becomes felt by those who look at it. What if art becomes "so moving" that it actually moves before your eyes, vibrant with life?
What if the monsters on a painting come alive to reflect the suffering that led the artist to draw them? What if the pain, fear, melancholy, menace and agony reflected by a work of art all become physical and materialized?
The only factor that would allow you to survive and keep your sanity in such case would be the honesty of reflection, honesty of art. Any pretense in representing your feelings can devour you, any pretense in assuming you can reciprocally understand other people's feelings through their art can turn you to a prey for their torments. You can only be safe in such conditions if you stick to the real feelings. Only then can you create real art.
To do that, you need to create your art by yourself for yourself, not as a posh pretentious craftsman catering to the taste of a market, but as a playful child, messing around on a beach, making circles in the sand for no one but himself to see. An impressive concept executed in such an enigmatic way that is guaranteed not to be understood by almost everyone who watches it! What a waste of excellent acting and amazing cinematography.
However, one can always assume that maybe the director was just a playful child, making circles on the sand, not really expecting anyone to enjoy watching him do so!
The story here is a fantasy based on an interesting magical assumption: What if the experience reflected by each and every work of art becomes real, and becomes felt by those who look at it. What if art becomes "so moving" that it actually moves before your eyes, vibrant with life?
What if the monsters on a painting come alive to reflect the suffering that led the artist to draw them? What if the pain, fear, melancholy, menace and agony reflected by a work of art all become physical and materialized?
The only factor that would allow you to survive and keep your sanity in such case would be the honesty of reflection, honesty of art. Any pretense in representing your feelings can devour you, any pretense in assuming you can reciprocally understand other people's feelings through their art can turn you to a prey for their torments. You can only be safe in such conditions if you stick to the real feelings. Only then can you create real art.
To do that, you need to create your art by yourself for yourself, not as a posh pretentious craftsman catering to the taste of a market, but as a playful child, messing around on a beach, making circles in the sand for no one but himself to see. An impressive concept executed in such an enigmatic way that is guaranteed not to be understood by almost everyone who watches it! What a waste of excellent acting and amazing cinematography.
However, one can always assume that maybe the director was just a playful child, making circles on the sand, not really expecting anyone to enjoy watching him do so!