My Kid Could Paint That

My Kid Could Paint That
Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
If all art is subjective, then even documentaries are nothing more than the filmmaker’s own “story of the story” captured on film. Granted, life in general is impossible to experience without inserting your own personal biases; but, as a filmmaker, how much bias can you ethically insert (or keep out of) your film without blatantly skewing the subject matter? In My Kid Could Paint That, documentary filmmaker Amir Bar-Lev found himself faced with this all-too-familiar journalistic dilemma when he chronicled the media rise and fall of 4 year-old painting prodigy Marla Olmstead. Bar-Lev started documenting the young painting phenom at the start of all the media frenzy back in 2004 when the New York Times first dubbed her “the hottest new abstract artist in town.” Back then, everyone wanted a piece of Marla. Her paintings were selling for thousands of dollars, Good Morning America and the Today Show had bidding wars over a Marla appearance, and Crayola and The Gap were offering her corporate sponsorships. Fortunately for Bar-Lev and his film, he was there from the beginning, already in position to document the publicity surrounding everyone’s favorite 4 year-old painter. When Bar-Lev first approached the Olmsteads on making a documentary about Marla, they asked him, “Why would anyone agree to have a documentary made about them?” Ironically, his answer, “a documentary may get at a deeper truth that these news crews might miss,” turned out to be both a blessing and a curse for the filmmaker. As it turns out, 60 Minutes II ran Charlie Rose’s exposé on Marla just months shy of her 5^th birthday, suggesting that she was not the sole contributor to her paintings. Instead, the exposé asked the question as to whether Marla’s father, an amateur painter, was behind the toddler’s painting sensations.
Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics			“Did she, or didn’t she?” then became the million dollar question Bar-Lev and the rest of the media desperately tried to answer. Unfortunately, no one was ever able to capture Marla on tape painting any of her masterpieces from start to finish. No one. Not even the placement of hidden cameras yielded footage of the pint-sized painter in action.
Was Marla’s father helping her? Was “the hottest new abstract artist in town” indeed a fraud? After the 60 Minutes II piece aired, the family turned to the filmmaker and asked for his help in exonerating Marla. Did the Olmstead’s request somewhat cross the ethical boundaries of journalism? Yes and no. Since the job of the documentarian is to record actualities and present them in as honest a manner as possible (good or bad), what started out as a story about Marla the painting prodigy quickly turned into a story about the ethical dilemma of a documentary filmmaker. In a sit-down interview with the director last month, he discussed the varying audience reactions to the film. According to Bar-Lev, audience members would often wind up arguing with one another over the controversy presented in the film. Obviously, the film doesn’t answer the “Did she/Didn’t she?” question. But, that’s the way Bar-Lev wants it. It’s the reason why his film is so intriguing. Instead of judging the Olmsteads, he utilizes the ambiguity of the entire situation to make the audience analyze Marla’s story and draw their own conclusions. In the film, we’re told that no outside film crew was able to capture Marla completing a painting on camera, but we later find out that her parents did manage to film her process start-to-finish when Marla painted “Ocean.” Later, we hear Marla’s art dealer talk about how he “always felt abstract art was a scam,” but the details of the scam are never really defined. Finally, we see Marla ask her dad for help with one of her paintings, but we don’t actually see him help her. All of the puzzle pieces are up on the screen, but it’s up to the viewer to piece them together.
In addition to the main controversy addressed in My Kid Could Paint That, the film’s subtext also elicits other subtle, yet equally disturbing elements of Marla’s story. First, is the way we constantly push our kids to overachieve, to become prodigies, to obtain genius level IQs before they enter grade school. All parents believe their kids are special. The problem is they want the rest of us to believe it just as much as they do. Is Marla a prodigy, or is she just another victim of parental pride gone awry?				Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
Next, you have to take into consideration our obsession with prodigies and our tendency to view them as magic tricks when they “exceed all conceivable human expectations by performing on an adult level.” Marla’s story touches a nerve on multiple levels because prodigies represent the idea of innocent creation. If it turns out that Marla’s paintings are fraudulent, her innocence then becomes a criticism of the art world itself. Even if Marla’s work is authentic, is it even feasible to deem a 4 year-old a prodigy in the realm of abstract art? Was the art dealer correct? Is abstract art nothing more than a scam? Because art is merely a representation of objects or situations, all art in some way is a lie. Even the film itself. “All writers, all storytellers are imposing their own narrative on something….It’s not that there’s no such thing as truth, but we come to like trusting a certain story, not because it’s not the most truthful, but because it’s a thing we tell ourselves that helps make sense of the world at least this moment.” Any way you look at it, Marla’s tale isn’t going to end well. Either she was born with a remarkable talent that her parents eagerly exploited; or, she is a regular toddler whose world has forever been tainted by greedy adults who used an innocent child to front one hell of an elaborate art scam. Neither scenario leaves Marla in a positive light.
Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics		Whether or not Marla’s story turns out to be about a child with a remarkable artistic gift or a lesson about the ramifications of parental exploitation, My Kid Could Paint That ultimately makes us question a basic element of childhood we all seem to have forgotten: When did we stop letting our kids just be kids? © Left From Hollywood 2007

Running Time:	1 hr 22 minutes
Release Date:	October 5, 2007 (NY/LA), November 2, 2007 (limited)
MPAA Rating:	PG-13 (language)
Distributor:	Sony Pictures Classics
Genre:	Documentary