There’s no mistaking an Old Masters painting. Never mind the ability in naming the artist behind it, pinpointing the status of the central subjects, or explaining the theme behind each stroke that makes up a hair curl or fold in regal trousers. The section of the general public that can guess whether this painting was done by an European man from the 16th century may surpass the 50th percentile. After all, they consist of portraits of cherubic figures and scenes of impassioned discussions where someone is painted to be staring right at the audience as if to say, “Get a load of this shit, huh?” But determining if the painting is actually an authentic piece is a whole another matter, far beyond what Animal Crossing has taught me.
As much as I enjoy looking at fine art as much as the next person, Oeke Hoogendijk’s My Rembrandt reminds that there’s a level of interest that can only achieved with a sufficient amount of monetary bargaining leverage. The featured stories are threaded into a sort of blanket “raid upon Rembrandt” (in the most respectful way). For Thomas Kaplan, an American entrepreneur and self-described “vulgar materialist,” the opportunity to collect Rembrandts, was once thought to be an unfeasible hobby (and perhaps attainable for those in a certain tax bracket). Now it seems to be a circus-PR act between the ostentatious satisfaction of ownership and his self-appointed mission in bringing these paintings to the public domain. For Jan Six XI, an art dealer and descendant of the Amsterdam mayor painted by Rembrandt, the serendipity of discovering a new Rembrandt at an auction seems too auspicious to believe. And between the Louvre and the Rijksmuseum, who are debating if they should pool in 160 million Euros to purchase two complimentary portraits, on-camera bickering from higher positions of authority can be pretty catty.
While museums obtaining pieces to grow their exhibitions seem like the most reasonable path, the other sort of private money-waving antics might seem unsettling and quite removed from a larger part of the population’s relatability. However, Hoogendijk drums up reality-show tension that can make scholarly debates more digestible and place art qualitatives in the layman’s mouth. The Rembrandt experts and museum directors’ venom are more subdued than the Kardashians glaring across the table while shaking their salads, so much that behind the Jason Alexanderian squints from Jan Six’s father and dismissing the French, it seems that everyone might break out into laughter once the acquisitions are all over. And perhaps, even if there is no clear winning side, here’s to hoping that this painting’s the real thing.
My Rembrandt
2019
dir. Oeke Hoogendijk
97 min
Now streaming via the Coolidge Corner Virtual Screening Room!
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