Pollock

Jackson Pollock (Ed Harris) is famous with a Life magazine cover in 1950. The movie flashes back to 1941. He's a drunk staying in Greenwich Village with his brother and pregnant wife. Artist Lee Krasner (Marcia Gay Harden) shows some interest and becomes his lover/supporter. His brother moves to Connecticut. Jackson breaks down which is why he can't be drafted into the war. Lee takes Jackson home acting more and more like his manager. His work eventually gains the attention of art collector Peggy Guggenheim (Amy Madigan) who gives him an one-man show in 1943. Lee and Jackson decides to move to a country house on Long Island away from the drinking and doing more work. His paintings are still not selling and then the Life article happens. Lee and Jackson have a roller-coaster relationship and then he has an affair with Ruth Kligman (Jennifer Connelly).

Ed Harris directs a mostly straight forward biopic of Jackson Pollock with a few fascinating scenes of painting sessions. His directing style doesn't necessarily project Jackson mental breakdowns but his acting is able to bridge the gap. Ed Harris is not the most imaginative director visually but it is overcome by good actors doing good work. It is a good debut directorial effort.

As heavy and darkly textured a film as any one of his masterpieces, director and star Ed Harris takes us into the tortured, inebriated world of abstract painter Jackson Pollock (1912-1956)and leaves us assured that Pollock is a certifiable candidate for the Hall of Fame "self-destructive genius" award, joining the illustrious, besotted ranks of Ernest Hemingway, Hank Williams, John Barrymore, Helen Morgan, et al. True, when has Hollywood ever bothered to put on cinematic display a gifted artist who wasn't a poster child for Betty Ford? We usually reserve well-adjusted geniuses for quieter, more tasteful retrospectives on cable TV.

Harris spares no time in letting us know that Pollock is a crude, mindless, gifted mess veering toward unmitigated disaster, taking everything and everyone down with him as he does. Amazingly, in his brutally brief 44 years, Pollock manages to find, with a man-child brilliance, his life's destiny as a master of artistic expression and interpretation and the accidental inventor of the drip-action technique. Harris painstakingly chronicles the little known details of this wretched genius who somehow learned how to free up his own artistic mind while confine the rest of his world to an absolute hell.

The actor/director wisely manages to avoid most of the pitfalls characteristic of these grand bios of agony and angst. In a stark, no-holds-barred performance, he lays the character out like it is -- unredeeming, hopeless, desperate, supremely gifted, yet intriguing. Its a daunting, fully etched performance that, in lesser hands, could have been one long cliche. He doesn't toy with the audience by thinking had the right circumstances come along for Pollock (and they DID come along with wife and caretaker, Lee Krasner) he could have somehow prevailed. Harris is quite believable, losing himself in the painter while showing off his researched skills with a brush. It's a true labor of love and it shows.

Marcia Gay Harden's self-sacrificing Krasner breathes life not only into Pollock but the film itself. Harden, in a rich, flashy portrayal, is mesmerizing as one artist compelled to save another, giving interesting dimension to a woman whose reasons are not totally pure and selfless. Amy Madigan (Harris' wife in real life) makes the most of her few scenes as the eccentric museum maven Peggy Guggenheim, while Val Kilmer appears in an odd, thankless cameo. Harris and Harden were both deservedly Oscar-nominated for their work here.

Yet, problems do creep into the film. While Harris pours his heart and soul into this show (a ten-year pet project, so they say), Pollock's "before life" is never set up to demonstrate why Pollock became such an inveterate drunk and monster. As such, little sympathy can be mustered, holding viewers at bay. Moreover, a couple of manipulative scenes also seem to be thrown in merely to punctuate the already well-worn theme of Pollock's misery and desolation. Less is more in this case. For the most parts, however, this little film succeeds.

Until now, little attention has been paid to the artist Jackson Pollock. Harris rectifies this injustice, as reprehensible as some of it is, with unsparing honesty, dedication and precision.

Ed Harris has taken the biopic to a new level. Although the skeleton of the film is no more than the troubled life of an alcoholic struggling with fame, the power of the acting and sequence of the film take it a step further. The relationship between Krasner and Pollock mirrors that of Stanley and Stella Kowalski but Krasner is a much stronger character and Marcia Gay Harden more than deserved the oscar she received for the part. The only part that concerned me was the explanation Harris chose to show Pollock's progression to his drip paintings. The arbitrariness of the "revelation" seems stretched to me and suggests that it is actually known how Pollock made that movement. All in all, the movie is excellent and worth seeing.

Just be careful - I cringed every time he got into a car...

a good film, though perhaps i was expecting a little more. The psyche of a troubled artist is somewhat predestined these days and maybe it is just that our assumptions are correct as they are all portrayed in a predictable way. If this is how the artist truly was then then Harris could have done nothing different, it just seems a little distant. I didn't feel at one with the artist, i couldn't sympathise with him or feel his pain. The 'intellectual' artistic debates and gendredising continuously used by his wive left me with no sympathy for her. She appears desperate from the first scene pretentiously trying to be involved with the next big thing. The most depressing part of this film is that two people can be stupid enough to waste their lives on each other without searching for the happiness which they truly seek. The emphasis is on Pollock as a man whereas i would like to see more of him as an artist, did his individual paintings have meaning or did he just do them out of hate for the world.... i guess i didn't feel you see his mind and its true agony's, maybe he was just generally mad at the world.

Really not a bad film for what it is, just to me it lacked true emotion.

sio

Pollock (2000)

There's no question this is a well made film, and based pretty much on truth, and an interesting truth--the life of a great Abstract Expressionist. Some would say the greatest of them all.

For myself, this isn't enough, and I know this is me. I'm an art critic and professor of Art in my real life, and I'm never very patient with movies about artists. The reason isn't that there are inaccuracies, but that there is a subtle or not-subtle goal of aggrandizing the subject. This reaches a beautiful but, again, romanticized, peak when Pollock makes his famous break into true gestural, raw work in a large commissioned piece for Peggy Guggenheim (who is portrayed, oddly, as a shy and dull sort, which I've never pictured). Then later he makes his drip works. And then he dies, again over dramatized and made aesthetic, as tragic and ugly as it had to have been in life.

If you want to really get into Pollock's head, especially if you aren't already a fan (I love Pollock's work), this is a convincing movie. At the helm as both director and playing the artist is Ed Harris. He is especially believable as a painter, which is something of an important point. This isn't like those movies about musicians where the actor is clearly not playing. Harris actually paints the darned thing, the big masterpiece, on the cusp of the drip works. I don't know if Harris was drinking, too, but he's a good drunk, and of course Pollock was a better drinker than a painter, even.

It's a cheap shot to say a movie could have been shorter, but this one sure would have propelled better with less atmosphere, less filler that is meant to create his life but is interesting only as an illustration of historical facts. It wore me thin for those reasons. Again, it might be a matter of how much you can get sucked into the given drama that is Jackson Pollock's life. It was quite a life, crude, untempered, brave, and immensely connected to what matters as an artist.