In the dazzling kaleidoscope of artistic nomenclature, it is unlikely that there is anything that even comes within an aerosol can of encapsulating the raw, unbridled cinematic talent that is Banksy. Indeed, it can only be a matter of time before this thrillingly inventive auteur produces the sort of spray-on masterpiece that will eschew the need for actors, scripts, lights, support crew, and even cameras. Indeed, this stunning advancement in film-making techniques will leave avant garde audiences staring in devoted wonderment at a screen that lesser mortals would probably just think is blank. However, the pop culture elite have forgotten more than this slovenly heathen will ever know. Therefore, by the end of such a magnum opus, they will have proclaimed Banksy to be a living deity and worship him accordingly.
Yes, in this tongue-welded-onto-cheek documentary about how a French ex-pat goes from selling alternative clothing in Los Angeles to recording the lives of the world’s best known street artists and beyond, the audience is being asked to live up to all of their prejudices about modern art having about as much value as a bowlful of other people’s nail clippings. As the enigmatic Banksy would have us believe, he decided to turn the camera on would-be documenter Thierry Guetta when he discovered that the latter had no more film-making talent than one of his wall murals did. However, it is not as if a degree of peer criticism was ever going to faze this seemingly irrepressible Frenchman. Rather, if ever there was a man to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, it is he. As a consequence, the audience just about manages to cling on to Guetta’s ridiculous mutton chops, as his providential trajectory takes him ever upwards.
As for the rest, well, you can expect pretty much everything from André the Giant to Leonard Nimoy to anarchic rodents to put in an appearance, as a humorous smorgasbord of paranoid warnings and lefty sloganeering get daubed on walls across the planet. Narrated by actor Rhys Ifans and with cuts to Banksy whenever a scarcely plausible explanation for how things kept on progressing from one thing to the next is needed (monkeys with typewriters do not stop trying just yet), one would want to believe in the tooth fairy as much as Shepard Fairey for this pseudo-documentary to seem remotely credible.
In any event, when it comes to Thierry Guetta, we have the most ludicrous of Gallic head-the-balls since the guy who once freaked out an entire generation of football scribes with his pronouncements on seagulls, trawlers, and sardines. From cheap gags such as spilling pink paint all over the back of his station wagon to haranguing bemused employees as he trundles about on a tricycle, this modern-day Pierrot is the perfect foil for this mischievous send-up. Equally, there are some fine glimpses into the shadowy world of these street artists, including a fine montage early on that is fittingly scored by Richard Hawley’s Tonight The Streets Are Ours. While the whole thing may feel a little like The Simpsons taking the mick out of Fox at times, art knobs are a sufficiently plump and juicy target that we will all want to chuckle along just the same!
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