THE CHRISTOPHERS Review: Art Forgery Comedy-Drama Excels On Every Level

The “Christophers” of the title refer to a set of eight — formerly nine — unfinished portraits permanently abandoned by the elder Sklar, gathering dust in a third-floor storeroom for more than thirty years. His varicious adult children, Barnaby (James Corden) and Sallie (Jessica Gunning), an old art-school friend of Lori's, hope to "rediscover" the newly finished paintings in the storeroom sometime after Sklar's death and sell them at an auction for millions of dollars. They see the finished series not just as their birthright, but also as compensation for a lifetime of neglect and indifference, wittingly or unwittingly inflicted by the ego-driven, narcissistic Sklar on his children. 

 

Isolated and alone, marking time until he exits this mortal plane for the next, Sklar wields his acerbic, caustic wit, near-unstoppable verbosity, and bitter, self-entitled musings as a cudgel against interlopers from the outside world, thereby justifying his alienation and abandonment. Hired on a dubious recommendation from Barnaby and Sallie, Lori enters Sklar’s home, a three-story duplex that doubles as a museum to his ego, as the last in a long line of personal assistants. Initially, Sklar expresses little interest in Lori as an individual whose background, experiences, or thoughts matter, let alone as a fellow artist. 

 

Sklar doesn't appear to need a personal assistant. He needs the help of a mental health professional, and Lori fits the underpaid bill. Sklar obsessively needs to share his frustrations with a world that's unjustly consigned him to has-been status, leaving him little alternative but to embrace his role as a debased, Gordon Ramsay-inspired critic for "Art Fight," an art competition program, and selling his paintings on the sidewalk outside his home. Sklar holds little affection or love for his children. He considers them abject failures (in part reflecting badly on himself). He does, however, retain a semblance of warmth for his one-time muse, the “Christopher” who appeared in three sequential series, the last left incomplete when Christopher, presumably asserting his autonomy and agency, left Sklar as the latter’s lover and muse. 

 

Three decades later, Sklar, a self-described victim of “cancel culture,” keeps himself financially afloat through Cameo-style videos made for his dwindling fanbase. Initially wary, Lori finds herself on the wrong side of a one-sided conversation: With Lori as captive audience, Sklar talks without interruption. In turn, Lori listens patiently, even attentively. As Lori ingratiates herself into Sklar’s static, stationary orbit, the art-forgery element introduced in the opening scene moves into the foreground. Soderbergh and Solomon aren’t, however, interested in postponing its resolution — or rather, revelation — until the final moments.