![]() You can see it in his “Honor Among Thieves” neck tattoo, his decision to get the words “Snitchers Are a Dying Breed” inked across his entire chest, and - most transparently of all - in his wardrobe of posturingly aggro t-shirts that he must have stolen from an oversized 13-year-old boy (one typical shirt boasts the slogan: “Fat people are hard to kidnap”).īy the time Ree started filming, however, it was already obvious that Nordland was a more sensitive soul than he seemed. Nordland has leaned in to the felon lifestyle in such a performative way that it seems like he’s actively trying to dissuade himself from the hard work of self-improvement. By contrast, his protective shell is far more obvious a repeat criminal whose inherent decency and professional dreams were corrupted by all the usual systemic obstructions (drugs, violence, organized crime, etc.). She’s a fragile but headstrong artist who wears her curiosity like a ribcage around her wounded heart. For one thing, Kysilkova and Nordland are naturally compelling foils. Ree could never have predicted how that relationship would evolve over the next few years, but he was able to see the potential for some kind of alchemy. From the start, the filmmaker’s rigid style reflects a shared (but unspoken) awareness that the relationship between Kysilkova and Nordland will be a work of art unto itself, and perhaps even more valuable than anything else they make together. ![]() Nordland is posing for Kysilkova, and both of them are posing for Ree’s camera. It’s a raw and loaded encounter in a frequently riveting movie that’s full of them, but Ree shoots “ The Painter and the Thief” with the probing composure of a scripted European drama (few documentaries make it so easy to imagine their narrative remakes). So begins Benjamin Ree’s nuanced and beguiling new documentary about the various things we all take from each other. The filmmaker followed the case even before it went to court, and was there in Kysilkova’s tiny studio to witness one of her first private sessions with Karl-Bertil Nordland. 'Women Talking' Shakes Up the Best Supporting Actress Race 'The Novelist's Film' Review: Hong Sang-soo Gets More Personal than Ever in Tipsy Ode to Artistic FreedomĬhristopher Nolan's Best Shots: 37 Images That Define the Director's Career 'Peaceful' Review: Catherine Deneuve and a Real-Life Oncologist Star in an Overwrought French Cancer Drama And so Kysilkova, professing “a sort of obligation to continue the story,” walked up to one of the suspects during his trial and asked an unexpected question: “I wonder if I could paint you?” She needed those men to provide another painting. Both of the culprits were apprehended just a few days later, but Kysilkova only cared that neither of the paintings were found something invaluable had been taken from her, and returning two random junkies to an Etsy-crafted Norwegian jail wasn’t going to make up the difference. The story didn’t quite rise to the level of international news - the work was only valued at €20,000 - but it was nevertheless a life-fracturing moment for Barbora Kysilkova, a gifted yet struggling young Czech artist who poured her trauma into those photoreal canvases for safekeeping. ![]() ![]() On April 20, 2015, two large oil paintings were stolen from Oslo’s Galleri Nobel. Neon releases the film to VOD on Friday, May 22. ![]() Editor’s note: This review was originally published at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |