My Kid Could Paint That – A review on the documentary
Daniel Keyes
February 11, 2009
The only one who doesn’t have anything to say about Marla Olmstead’s paintings is Marla Olmstead. She just loves to paint. But as her paintings began fetching thousands of dollars each, news agencies and talk shows flocked, and the waiting list of buyers grew steadily, as did the number of varying stories, each spurred by different motives. Film maker Amir Bar-Lev’s chronological cinéma vérité exposes all of these stories and the phenomenon that created them. What begins as a documentary about a four-year-old abstract-expressionist unfolds into a complicated tale about what happens when adults take a simple story too far and turn it into something completely different. “My Kid Could Paint That” is a constructed reality about constructed realities.
The film opens with Marla. As Bar-Lev tries his best to get her to talk about her paintings it becomes immediately clear that she’s a regular four-year-old who just wants to have fun. She has a story, but no interest in expressing it. It appears as if she’s blissfully unaware of what’s going on in the world around her. And her innocence marks a stark contrast to the adults, who seem to play a much larger role in the film.
Marla’s parents, Mark and Laura Olmstead, are central figures in the film and both have their own stories to tell. Laura tells the story of a family that just wants to get on with life as normal. She portrays herself as a mother who just wants what’s best for her children and is skeptical about getting Marla involved in a celebrity lifestyle at such a young age. Mark, on the other hand, is much more comfortable with the situation and portrays the story of an amateur artist who plopped his daughter down on a canvas with some paints in her diaper. He embraces the situation and at times seems opportunistic.
Anthony Brunelli, a photo-realist painter, helped make Marla a success by featuring her paintings in his art gallery. He shares the story of his amazement at first seeing Marla’s paintings and the demand and stir she was creating in the art community. But he admits that he was always skeptical about abstract-expressionism, and he portrays a sense that there may have been some motive other than amazement behind featuring Marla’s work in his gallery. If a four-year-old could create these paintings, what does that say about other abstract-expressionists?
There is also the story of the collectors. Stuart Simpson is one of them, and he saw Marla as a master artist and placed her work among the other masterpieces in his home. His explanation of the symbols he saw in the painting he purchased served as a humorous contrast to the ignorant indifference Marla showed for her paintings. The interview helps to underscore the idea that everyone interprets art (and maybe events, too) differently to create their own story.
And then there’s the media. Elizabeth Cohen, a journalist from The Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin, was the first to write about Marla. She echoes a lot of the uneasiness expressed by Marla’s mother when she tells the story about how she questioned the Olmsteads whether they were sure they wanted her to go ahead with the piece. Her story sparked a media feeding frenzy and all sorts of new narratives emerged. Michael Kimmelman, chief art critic for the New York Times, touches on the idea that Marla could expose the sham of abstract-expressionism. News agencies flocked: child prodigy, or just a kid being a kid? How could such a small child create such wonderful works of art? All this, as Bar-Lev lays out with a montage of news reports and further commentary from Cohen and Marla’s mother, for quick sound bites to boost ratings.
The film, at first, seems to be just a collection of all of these themes and stories. It looks to be shaping up as a critique on art and the different ways people interpret it. Then there’s the “60 Minutes” report that changes everything. Bar-Lev captured the moment on camera – a turning point in the film – the Olmsteads gathered around the TV as the report accused Marla’s father of helping, or possibly painting, Marla’s paintings. There’s a videos of Marla creating a painting, but the one on video is not as polished as the others, the expert says. The expression of shock on the Olmsteads’ faces as they listen to the report marks a shift in the film.
Suddenly all of the individual stories start changing. Marla’s mother is somewhat relieved that this might mean everything can go back to normal, but now she and her husband are focused on the story of defending the family’s honour. News agencies forget about the child prodigy and continue pressing the question: is Marla’s art a fraud? Brunelli is now focused on disassociating himself from the scandal to protect his career. And Cohen accuses the media, and even Bar-Lev, of taking the story too far when the Olmsteads should just be left alone. All the while, Marla is still just a kid who likes to paint.
As each character struggles to come to terms with his or her new reality, so does Bar-Lev, and he himself becomes a central character in the film. He tries getting footage of Marla painting, but she never seems to want to paint when the camera is rolling. For the first time, he begins talking directly to the camera. His tone of amazement and wonder turns to a tone of skepticism, sadness and frustration. He questions his role in the whole situation. And he feels bad for continuing to put the Olmsteads through this ordeal, acknowledging he is a player in this game of narratives. As Kimmelman tells him, “All art in some ways is a lie… Your documentary is a lie, your construction of things, how you wish to tell the truth.”
Bar-Lev continues to dig for the truth, but never seems to solve the mystery behind Marla’s paintings. Even he is not sure if she paints them on her own. But through this journey, a deeper truth is revealed. He constructs this reality transparently, for all to see. Instead of simply presenting his completed reality, he struggles to come to that reality throughout the entire film. He avoids false objectivity by being honest and open about his struggle. And by the end, the viewer is left wondering what truth really is.
If “My Kid Could Paint That” is a lie, it’s one of the most honest lies ever told.