Thomas Kinkade is one of those artists serious art lovers love to hate, but he has achieved considerable commercial success, and even Britain’s ArtReview magazine ranks him in its Power 100 list of artists, dealers and collectors who “run the art world.” He comes exactly in 100th place.
The self-described “painter of light,” a phrase the artist has trademarked, is frequently lambasted in the art press for his treacly sweet pictures of middle-American small-town bliss, which have been produced in the hundreds and sold by the thousands.
Thomas Kinkade’s The Christmas Cottage is a new departure for the artist, who participated in what is a straight-to-DVD offering in the US, but which is being given a big-screen release in Taiwan. The main draw is the presence of Peter O’Toole, who plays Glenn Wessels, an aging artist who, in the film, becomes a defining influence on Kinkade’s artistic development as the “painter of light.” It also features Marcia Gay Harden, who won an Oscar in Ed Harris’s Pollock (2000), an altogether more serious work about what it is to be an artist.
O’Toole, who is making something of a specialty of dying of old age on screen, reprises his role in Venus (2006) without any of the lasciviousness or complexity, but with admirable verve. His acting has more vitality than anything the younger members of the cast are able to muster, and he has the knack of summoning into his old, whiskey-blurred eyes a powerful mixture of messianic hope and despair that all flesh is grass.
For O’Toole, who has performed in more than his fair share of turkeys over the years, this is far from his worst role, and he gives this picture a theatrical vigor that saves it from drowning in schmaltz.
This is a film with a Christmas message, and is unashamedly about the life-giving qualities represented by the religious aspects of the holiday. That’s fine, and very seasonal, and for those who do not share the artist’s faith, it should be noted that the evangelical Christian message has been muted and transformed into something more widely acceptable. That dialogue related to “painting the light” might be perceived as an endorsement of Kinkade’s brand — literally — of art and a cynical exercise in marketing, might detract from innocent enjoyment. But if one knows nothing and cares even less about Kinkade and his attempts to market his art, the film is perfectly adequate festive season fare, with at least one fine performance to enjoy.
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