As someone who is pretty intimately acquainted with the inner workings of art school, I loved the original Art School Confidential, a four page story in Daniel Clowes‘ Eightball #7. It worked because it made fun of the worst of what awaits unsuspecting students - intellectual masturbation disguised as conceptual art, flaky, bitter, and desperate teachers, students trying to “out-weird” each other - all from the point of view of somone who was there (Clowes attended Pratt in the 80s) and still resents the experience.

The team of Clowes and director Terry Zwigoff sounded like a good idea, too - I liked Crumb, Zwigoff’s documentary on the scuzzy father of underground comics; Bad Santa, a filthy christmas comedy; and his earlier Clowes adaptation, Ghost World - pretty well. The fact that he was a member of Crumb’s Cheap Suit Serenaders doesn’t hurt, either. So it was even more disappointing when this one turned out to be too long by half, too repetitive, too disjointed, and too goddamn meandering to hold my attention. When the movie sticks to the subject matter of the original comic, it does okay. Unfortunately, Clowes and Zwigoff added a murder mystery, a love story, and a confused cast of dozens in an attempt tie together all of the scenes about ridiculousness of art school, and drive their point about the pretentious, trend-seeking, bizarro art world home… But all these threads just don’t hold together. Why didn’t they just leave out the script add-ons and make a short? Why didn’t they try to make David Boring, or Like A Velvet Glove Cast in Iron, or Ice Haven, or Caricature instead - did they really think that this glued-together, overpadded plot would be a great moneymaker?

THE GOOD:

• The first half hour was pretty okay. The introduction to young Jerome, his entrance to Swarthmore, and the breakdown of the various art-school stereotypes (the Critic, the Kissass, the Mom, the Army-Jacket guy) looked promising.
• Great performances by Malkovich (as a washed-up drawing/painting professor), Jack Ong (as the ceramics professor who really, really doesn’t give a shit anymore), and Jim Broadbent as the drunk, creepy Swarthmore graduate.
• The scene with the successful asshole king-of-the-art-world guy doing a James Lipton-style interview at his alma mater, coming to terms with his inner asshole.
• The actual art used in the movie - some was by Clowes, some was by Mark Mothersbaugh, and all of it was hilarious.
• The exploration of art as a way for skinny, picked-on kids to pick up chicks and become successful assholes - just like the jocks-cum-stockbrokers who used to beat them up, but with KNEADED ERASERS!

THE AWFUL:

• Anjelica Huston’s art history professor, who shows up for about 45 seconds, and then appears to tell Jerome that his quest for love is cute before the film’s end. Why? I guess she was the only character who wasn’t onscreen long enough to be a total asshole.
• Similarly, Steve Buscemi’s small role is completely wasted - if you’re gonna invite Buscemi, give the man something - ANYTHING - to do.
• The multitude of scenes following the cops around - we get that they’re shithead stereotypes, and seeing them (and their families) over and over is the worst kind of unnecessary.
• Jerome’s roommates - an in-the-closet fashion designer (snigger) and a fat, Tarantino/Kevin Smith/Whoever-wannabe film student. Oooh - one of them’s gay (har har) and the other one has no talent - just like EVERY OTHER STUDENT CHARACTER IN THE MOVIE. Maybe the film student was Zwigoff’s inclusion, so he could expel some of his own film-school demons… if that means he won’t do a sequel, awesome - but again, it just makes the movie much, much longer.
• The constant repetition of the one point of the whole damn movie - the art world will crush your spirit. We see Jerome constantly try, get rejected, and accept defeat dozens of times, and it doesn’t make us like the douchebag anymore. We got it, okay?

I guess my feelings about the movie kind of tie into my feelings about Clowes. He’s not really one of my favorites - for each thing he’s done that I like (Ghost World, Like A Velvet Glove…, Caricature), there’s one that I really dislike (David Boring, Ice Haven, Dan Pussey). I think there’s just way too much autobiographical Crumb-ness in the cynical, bitter record snobs, art collectors, and pop-culture hating characters in his work for me. But even at his worst, he’s way better than this movie ended up (and he’s way better than Adrian Tomine, but that’s a topic for another day).

I’d like to end with a quote from twinlesbianlighter (on the IMDB messageboards) that sums this movie up:

I went in expecting greatness and was extremely disappointed. It started out great and got progressively worse and worse and worse and then horrible. It’s like ordering food that you think is going to be great. The first bite is good, so it should get better, right? Then the second bite is ok. By the end of the meal, you feel like puking and you’ve got this disgusting after taste left in your mouth.