A cruel mix of pretension and bloodbath, Velvet Buzzsaw invites one behind the protective museum security barriers to get a look at players in the art world … and then, thankfully, it kills them off. The title itself seems perversely apt – like a velvet rope barely shielding gawkers from a deadly tool: we’re going to show you “art” and then tear it to bits; it’s a real shame such a clever metaphor is wasted on such a confusing movie.
I don’t know who the star of Velvet Buzzsaw is supposed to be. Oh, I know the actors and roles, but the focal point eludes me, which is one of the many problems of this hoity-toity reflection. The movie centers around the Haze studio/museum/k-mArt where pieces are presented, discussed, and wildly overvalued by people who seem to be in need of a genuine hobby. Morf Vandewalt (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a pretentious critic. Rhodora Haze (Rene Russo) is a pretentious owner. Piers (John Malkovich) is a pretentious artist. Josephina (Zawe Ashton) is a pretentious coffee girl. Gretchen (Toni Collette) is a pretentious … hmmm … darn, I lost track. Can we just safely assume that 80% of the cast could use a year or two of blue collar labor to realize how silly their pronouncements on the human condition vis-à-vis the art world are?
When the movie settles from introductions and settings no sane person will ever see, the focus finds Josephina whose curiosity is piqued by the death of a man in her apartment complex. Having discovered the body, Josephina is inexplicably drawn to the dead man’s flat replete with the first decent art in the film. The dead man, Vetril Dease, was a shut in –probably stemming from an unnatural hazing at the name “Vetril.” He painted his life away (literally?) and requested his paintings be destroyed upon his death. But Josephina knows dollar signs when she sees them and some cleverly framed thievery might just yield personal fortune, her big break, or both.
Well, gosh, even the late V. Dease’ll tell ya his collection is fast and furious. And evil. But money being money and art being art, soon the El Lay scene is replete with buzz and bucks for Dease collection … and at this point in the narrative, a genuine movie breaks out of its raw form like a sculpted bust emerging from stone. Rhodora sends her flunkee, Bryson (Billy Magnussen), to store half the Dease collection off site for safe keeping. But Bryson ain’t no ordinary flunkee; he’s a failed artist and he knows quality evil when he sees it. Before he even gets a chance to flunkerize the collection, however, a painting comes to life, setting him on fire. Crashing into a gas pump, Bryson emerges from his truck to the safety of a station … where he’s killed by a painting of monkeys.
Oh, there’s the plot. I see it now. Paintings = evil. And there’s the theme: Greed begets doom. Well, why didn’t you say that? Velvet Buzzsaw, you spent so long describing the scene, quite honestly, you lost the movie. I’m sitting back capturing the artistic value of braised Bryson in the world’s cleanest garage approaching a painting of primates detailing a roadster (oh, I get it … literal grease monkeys, ha!) because the film hasn’t yet conditioned me to believe anything is going to happen here. Whoa! Nearly two whole plot points in ten minutes time. Slow down that Buzzsaw.
Rarely are you going to find a film more in need of a sense of humor. Velvet Buzzsaw seemed so entrenched in visual feel (cinematography, artwork, costume design) –as one might expect in an art film- that I didn’t think an actual movie was going to happen. The feel is inviting, unlike, say, the stomach-churning experience of The Neon Demon. You should know, however, that when your film is compared to Neon Demon, which is the closest equivalent, you’re not emerging unscathed. In short, Velvet Buzzsaw is not only an apt description but an apt review: shredded artistry.
The world of thoughts obfuscate
Is one in which I don’t quite relate
Art murder, and how
I don’t welcome it now
Perhaps it will appreciate
Rated R, 113 Minutes
Director: Dan Gilroy
Writer: Dan Gilroy
Genre: Magic eye plots
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Satanic artists?
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Hmmm. Who has no taste for pretension or murder? The Amish, maybe?
