Labeling what is ostensibly an art documentary as the best English-language comedy of 2010 might sound odd, but then so little of the debut film by acclaimed British street artist Banksy is truly ostensible and so much of it strange and wonderful. What supposedly started as a portrait about graffiti guerrillas by French-born Los Angeles clothier Thierry Guetta morphs instead into a profile about Guetta himself, who decides impetuously to become a celebrated artist just like his heroes, despite a lack of training and experience. Or is it all just an elaborate Banksy prank excoriating the trendiness of the art world?
Guetta sells second-hand clothes in L.A. at ridiculous mark-ups and is never without his trusty video camera, filming everyone and everything for no apparent reason. As he explains how this unusual habit led him to being the go-to assistant/cameraman for street artists after a meeting with Shepherd Fairey, he frequently fractures the English language. This happens not only because English is his second language but also because he is apparently something of an imbecile. Through Fairey, Guetta meets all the other major players in the global graffiti world, including the reclusive Banksy. The two become very close. Late in the game, Banksy begins to realize that Guetta, who is visiting him in Britain, may be less a filmmaker than a mentally ill man with a camera. In order to be rid of him, Bansky encourages Guetta to return to Los Angeles and create some art for a small show that Banksy will arrange.
But Guetta thinks bigger, immediately transforms himself into artist “Mr. Brainwash,” mortgaging everything he owns to hire a large staff for a Kostabi-ish assembly line and rent a humongous space for the exhibition. He ultimately creates a gigantic assemblage of knock-off Pop Art that turns the sprawling gallery into a Warholian vomitorium. As the show’s opening approaches and one disaster after another occurs, the suspense grows: Will Mr. Brainwash be able to sell his art for many times its worth as Guetta did with ratty T-shirts and torn jeans? If he is successful, does it reveal that much of what goes on in the art world is a con? Or is it all just a Banksy con? That the latter appears to be true doesn’t in any way diminish the great amusement of this film. Actually, it just enhances it.•