The Burnt Orange Heresy (2020) - Movie Review

Looks like the déjà vu train is still in service, only now we’ve gone from things I’d much rather not fixate on to something actually worth remembering. Specifically, we’re dealing with a slice of art-world satire wrapped up in genre thrills, much like last year’s Velvet Buzzsaw. However, while the two carry a certain similarity in tone, their respective approaches to the art world are somewhat different. Where Buzzsaw was informed by the perspective of the artist and largely stayed with it, even when focusing on other characters, The Burnt Orange Heresy is more intently trained on the role of the art critic… and why it’s really not worth taking all that seriously.

Yes, the irony and likely hypocrisy of me saying that is palpable, but as we get further into this, hopefully that will be clarified. The film follows art critic James Figueras (Claes Bang of recent arthouse darling The Square) and his interactions/frictions with artist Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland), with James wanting to garner some fame by being the first critic to interview the reclusive Debney in fifty years. What follows is a lot of poetic and fruity dialogue, given added punch by the actors speaking it, all about the place of the critic, the artist, and whether one can even exist without the other.

It starts on one hell of a note as well, with James giving a presentation about a seemingly-humdrum painting, detailing the history behind it, and then pulling back the curtain to reveal that was all bullshit and he was the one who made it. He even opens with the line “Art would not exist without criticism.” ‘The Power Of The Critic’ indeed.

The barbs thrown at the place of the critic within the art world are honestly pretty accurate, showing James to be a properly pretentious narcissist who sees artists as being obligated to share their art with everyone else. Or, more accurately, with the people rich enough to afford museum access and those who supply to museums in the first place, like art collector Joseph (Mick Jagger). Some will be confused by his name being here. Those who have seen him in Nicholas Roeg’s Performance (or saw his ill-fated turn as the Emperor of China in an episode of Faerie Tale Theatre) won’t even bat an eyelid.

Now, as a critic myself, this should be a bit confronting, much like some of the better features from last year wound up being. But that would imply that I see something of myself in the equal parts caricature and worst-case-scenario that is Figueras; I may enjoy writing about films, but the day I take myself that seriously is the day I stop this whole enterprise. Also… not gonna lie, there’s some definite truth about this film’s take on art criticism, albeit of a quite specific variety. How a critic’s flowery wording about a given piece of art might not even represent the artist’s true intent, how marketing for art at this level is treated with more import than the art itself, and how a critic’s words can be fixated upon so intently that they end up overriding the art entirely. Almost like… the critic painting over the artist’s work.

I vibe with this for basically the same reason as I did with Velvet Buzzsaw, although not quite as much. The acting is damn solid, the pacing is incredibly taut for the kind of wonky noir-thriller it is, and I find myself both confronted and bemused by the stance taken on art appraisal. Confronted because it fed some of my fears that I could be talking absolute bollocks whenever I review a film on here, and bemused because even if I was, I do this shit for fun more than anything else. I write what I think about a given film, and whether you agree or disagree, it’s just my opinion at the end of the day.

I find this whole deal to be darkly humourous for the same reason I wouldn’t be surprised most audiences would write it off as being up its own arse: It kind of is, but it also vehemently takes the piss out of those who approach art that way. It’s a chance for me to cool off and remember why I write these reviews to begin with, and at a time when it feels like the world is shifting beneath my feet more erratically than ever… I take some comfort in that.