art without reason
by
Douglas Messerli
Pierre
Bismuth, D.V. DeVincentis, and Anthony Peckham (writers), Pierre Bismuth
(director) Where Is Rocky II? /
2016, USA 2017; the US premiere I saw with Pablo Capra was on January 13, 2017
at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art
Sometime
in the 1970s, well-known Los Angeles artist Ed Ruscha, with the help of his
artist-surfer friend Jim Ganzer, constructed a rock made out of wheat paste,
transporting it somewhere in the Mojave Desert within other rock formations.
Given the extremes of weather and heavy winds, the “fake” rock, dubbed “Rocky”
after the Sylvester Stallone film, did not survive. Another such rock, this
time made out of fiberglass and resin, was constructed; dubbed “Rocky II,” it
was also transported, in 1976, to a mysterious location in the desert and
placed near or upon natural rocks which, at least superficially, it matched.
This time, moreover, a British film crew from BBC happened to document the fake
rock’s creation and transport it, although not knowing precisely where the rock
was placed.
For years, the short BBC documentary was
forgotten, until, soon after filming his script of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and looking for another film
project, Bismuth was shown a copy of the documentary. Perplexed that an artist would create a work
of art which no one knew of and very few would see or even recognize it if they
were to stumble upon it, Bismuth set out on a voyage to discover the where and
why of “Rocky II.”
Confronting the artist at a gallery in
England, Bismuth, pretending to be a journalist, asked a simple question of
Ruscha, “Where Is Rocky II?” Admitting that there had been such a work, the
artist, however, would not reveal its whereabouts, merely wishing Bismuth good
luck in finding it.
Determined to find the rock or, at least,
document an attempt to find it, Bismuth hired a private detective, Michael
Scott, to help track down the rock’s whereabouts. Like the flat-footed and
clueless detective he truly is, Scott proceeded to question many art
authorities throughout the city, including art dealer and curator Jeffrey
Deitch, MOCA’s Philippe Vergne, LACMA’s Michael Govan, billionaire collector and
philanthropist Eli Broad, bookstore specialist Dagny Corcoran, and others,
somewhat hilariously asking them: 1. Did they know artist and 2. Did
they know anything of “Rocky II?” Of course
all knew Ruscha quite well, but none had heard of the piece nor knew anything
about its whereabouts. Corcoran suggested Scott check out Ruscha’s catalogue raissone; there was no mention
of either of the “Rockys.”
Had Scott known a bit more about art he might have asked Govan, who
after all had helped artist Michael Heizer take a huge rock from nature and
place it on the grounds of the museum, why anyone might do precisely the
opposite. But the irony was surely not lost on the LACMA audience that filled
the Bing Theater, where I saw this film last evening.
While continuing to film Scott doggedly
tracking down leads—from the outset, he determined to ask Ruscha himself last,
since the artist was known to have been uncooperative—Bismuth hired two noted
screenwriters D.V. DeVincentis (High
Fidelity, Grosse Pointe Blank)
and Anthony Peckham (Sherlock Holmes,
Invictus) to write a fictional movie
about the same subject, to be called Monument
One. In short, the film he finally shows, a kind of “fake fiction,” moves
in two directions simultaneously, as the film writers create a fictional
reality—suggesting dark secrets might be hidden in the fake rock and hinting
through their cast members, Robert Knepper as Cal Joshua (a fictional Ruscha),
Milo Ventimiglia as the detective, Richard Edson, Roger Guenveur Smith, Barry
O’Rouke, Tania Raymonde, and others that the rock may even be detonated to
explode—that they also document, later bringing in director-actor Mike White to
help with the “trailer,” with which this inverted documentary ends. White’s
suggestions for the teaser are particularly funny, and, in the end, he seems
more interested in getting high than in filmmaking.
Meanwhile, Scott tracks down Ganzer
(suggesting in the after film conversation that he might have been personally
misled of his whereabouts by Bismuth and his crew), the two establishing an
immediate rapport, and with the help of a map that Ganzer still has in his
possession, they travel to the Joshua Monument area in search of the possible
location of “Rocky.” The perilous road seems to end up in Ruscha’s private
desert home, with no one home. And, apparently, at least in terms of the film,
the rock is never found. Ganzer later does admit that he saw it, but that it
had been, once again, partially destroyed by the desert conditions. And at moments, movie-goers might even imagine that they have actually seen the rock.
We can never know the location, nor even
quite imagine Ruscha’s real reasons for the rock’s creation. But that isn’t the
point. Bismuth’s brilliant film is not so much about truly comprehending what
art is and why it is created as he is in showing how truth and fiction in art
are intensely interconnected. Of course, no documentary speaks precisely the
truth; it is rather a “version” of it, in which real things are posed and
redefined. No good fiction is without its truths. Finally, in his mash-up
of genres, Bismuth has, for once and all, showed us that the existence and
meaning of art can never be completely comprehended. And there logic for why anyone might wish to see or possess this Maltese Falcon-like object.
For many of us
in the audience the use of such well-known art figures in the film was more
than a bit disconcerting. I have long known Govan, Broad, Corcoran, and Ruscha,
and my theater-going companion for the night, Pablo Capra, is a good friend of fellow
Malibu surfer Ganzer. Seeing them upon the large screen, accordingly, gave them
an almost mythical dimension that created, at least in me, a sensation of humor
and dislocation that I don’t quite feel when I see actor friends in movies.
In the brief period between the film and
the group discussion, I quickly ran out for a bathroom break on the second
floor of the Bing. Suddenly right behind me came the film’s director Bismuth.
“Is the bathroom up here?” he breathlessly asked. “Yes.” I complemented him on
the film. “I go first!” he laughed.“Of course!” I responded, and let him rush
ahead of me as I more slowly climbed those steep stairs.
Los Angeles, January
14, 2017
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