Final Portrait is less a biopic, and more of a character study of two men using different and similar mediums to depict the other. Alberto Giacometti uses paint and canvas, and James Lord uses a typewriter and paper, but both men use their senses and time to take in the other, create an unusual relationship that is simultaneously personal and professional and leave with a substantial memento of their time together. Giacometti may be the more eccentric of the two, but Lord is no stranger to the oddities and whims of an artist. The victims of Lord’s devotion to his art are unseen and unheard, but they exist.
I saw a preview for Final Portrait and knew that I would watch it on DVD. Geoffrey Rush plays Giacometti, and Armie Hammer, who is beginning to gain traction as a recognizable actor for his work as well as his conventionally good looks in Sorry to Bother You and Call Me By Your Name, plays Lord. Both are good actors, but I’m not such a devotee of their work that I am willing to shell out money for their performances, especially Rush, whom I feel over saturated my screen time with biopics from Shine to Quills. There was a period when he was in almost everything, and while I have no complaints about his performances per se, I feel like his schtick is somewhat predictable. I also know nothing about Lord or Giacometti, and I was not exactly burning with curiosity about these men.
Final Portrait is a slice of Giacometti’s life as seen by an American outsider charmed by the artist, but also cognizant of his flaws. I did not particularly enjoy the movie because at times, it felt more like a play than a movie, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but I’m not a fan of feeling that way. On a personal level, I did not like any of the characters in the movie. I can be a patient person and am willing to be flexible or accommodating to a certain degree, but I also believe that attention and focus can be signs of respect and devotion. Whenever you divert them from one person to the other, it means something, and consistently regular diversions which lead to carelessness with someone else’s time is at worst, an insult, and at best, a sense of neediness and insecurity used to prove that the victim of your whims actually loves you unconditionally. I don’t fancy such games, and while I understand that theoretically it is an honor to be the subject of a great painter’s attention and to be immortalized forever in his work, it is also an honor for me to devote my finite time and money to anyone so careless use of it is not appreciated. Lord was also then subjecting others to this behavior, which they never assented to, so the inconsiderateness is like a wave echoing across the ocean to the East Coast seaboard. While he was willing to make a sacrifice and was able to get a book out of the experience, what did the other people further down the line get? Ignored.
Final Portrait did an excellent job of creating visual parallels between Lord and Giacometti’s wife as he cheats on them with another woman either as the subject of his paintings or sexual attention. The first time that this happens, Lord is amused as he sees Giacometti make out with his side chick until his reflection is adjacent to the wife’s. Giacometti’s carelessness with his good fortune, generosity to his side chick then stinginess with his wife annoyed me. When Lord admitted that financially, this side project was costing him a fortune, I thought that he should have just gotten Giacometti to reimburse him since he liked to pretend that he was above money, but it would have been gauche and ruined the relationship; however I hate poseurs that pretend to be above it all. I bet that he would have clutched his money as if he was an understudy for Scrooge. I also wanted Lord to let the wife know where the money was lying around. Don’t ask for it. Take it. It is your money! I don’t understand constantly devaluing yourself for someone else. It is as if on a daily basis, you are agreeing that you are less than the other person.
I actually enjoyed how Final Portrait depicts the meandering creative process, which is not always productive, but sometimes thrives with and other times is destroyed by distraction. The routine of walking, eating and talking felt organic and almost like a documentary, but the actual substance of some of their philosophical musings irritated me since it is typical male blustering, an attempt to shock the listener, which actually indicates a lack of any original thought. Instead of counting sheep to go to sleep, you imagine raping and killing women. How nice for you? Connard. If you ever see me roll my eyes openly at a man in real life, it is usually after hearing some remark such as this. When I was younger, I would actually take the time to physically assess the man from head to toe before screwing my face up to imply, “You wish.” Big talkers are all sizzle, no steak. He complains about bourgeois sentiment, but is clearly jealous of Picasso’s attention. You’re above nothing.
Final Portrait has a very neutral, muted palette, which apparently mirrors Giacometti’s work. I think that I would have preferred this film more if it was a silent movie with no dialogue. Afterwards I felt badly that I did not like the movie more when I found out that Stanley Tucci directed it. I love him and felt as if I betrayed him by not being charmed and fascinated by the same things as he is. At least we can both agree that Tony Shaloub is endearing and a treasure. His bridge between his brother’s eccentricities and the practical outside world was refreshing.
If you are a fan of the cast, the real life historical figures depicted or Stanley Tucci’s work as a director, then definitely give it a chance, but for the rest of us, don’t waste your time.
Side note: I decided to watch the DVD extras, and Rush shared his thoughts on the relationship between his character and his side chick that got paid to be there. He described her as someone who “liked his rapport” and related to him because she had “her own profession.” Um, honey, I think that the two are actually related if by rapport you mean money. Y’all are a bunch of suckers if you think that she genuinely cares for you. It is a job.