The Christophers

According to a study I read recently, art collectors who spend a significant amount of money tend to fall into distinct categories. Some by for investment, as though the art is a more decorative stock portfolio. Some buy for personal branding: “See, I must be rich and important because I have a Picasso!” Some buy because they feel an emotional connection to the work or because they like to support and interact with artists. And of course there is some overlap in those categories; people don’t spend hundreds of thousands of dollars or more for just one reason.

But when it comes to why artists create art, there are not so many categories. The few who do it for acclaim and money is a smaller group than those who actually achieve it in their lifetimes. Anyone who’s ever taken an art history course knows that Van Gogh never sold a painting and that some artists who were successful when they were alive are no longer considered significant or original. There is only one reason to make art, and that is that you can’t not do it. It is foundational to the artist’s character and purpose.

Thus, there is an impossible gulf between the person who creates art and the person who buys it. That is one of the key conflicts explored in “The Christophers,” an excellent film from two of the best, screenwriter Ed Solomon (“Men in Black,” “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”) and director Steven Soderbergh (“Erin Brockovich,” “Oceans 11,” “Out of Sight,” “Traffic”) that is an unmistakable work of art itself.

We know Lori (Michaela Coel) is an artist from the first shot of the film. And we know she is not making any money a moment later when she leaves the plein air picture she is working on to take an order from a customer at a food truck. Then she gets a call from Sallie (Jessica Gunning), a former art school classmate, with an offer. Sallie and her brother Barnaby (James Corden) are the estranged children of a famous artist, Julian Sklar (Ian McKellen). They want to pay Lori to complete, i.e., forge their father’s paintings so they can sell them as his after he dies.

Julian was once very active and acclaimed. But just after his most famous work, a series of portraits called The Christophers, he stopped painting and spent the next decades as a celebrity, something of an enfant terrible. He is known for biting, Simon Cowell-like disdain for young artists as a judge on a reality show competition. When we first see him, he is recording Cameo videos (upcharge if you want to see him mime his signature).

Lori, who has been working as an art restorer, turns down the offer from Sallie and Barnaby. But as the apothecary in “Romeo and Juliet” says, “My poverty, but not my will, consents.” She agrees, and goes to work for Julian as his assistant.

Their conversations, or, rather, verbal parrying, are pure delight, so smart and sharp. And they reflect a very deep understanding of the world of art, the people who create it and the complexities of maneuvering the world of critics, gallery owners, and wealthy collectors. Lori learns about where the Christopher series came from and why Julian never completed the second set of portraits. Julian remembers what it is like to talk to someone who speaks his language. McKellan and Coel have a crackling chemistry and play off each other, his dancing around, deflecting, trying to be shocking, her steady intelligence.

Parents should know that this film includes constant very strong and crude language, alcohol, a sad death, and sexual references.

Family discussion: What did Lori and Julian have in common and what made them realize that? What kind of art do you like and why?

If you like this, try: “The Square,” “The Burnt Orange Heresy,” “Untitled,” and the documentary “Made You Look”