Of all the various forms of self-expression, none is more tenuous or more contentious than the world of art. One person’s genius is another person’s insipidness; a piece someone sees as imaginative is seen by others as uninspired. Perhaps few cases in the art world better encapsulate this debate than one Marla Olmstead, a four-year-old from New York who set art collectors scrambling for her latest masterpieces until a 60 Minutes II story cast doubt on her pieces’ authenticity.



Filmmaker Amir Bar-Lev follows the Olmstead family as Marla opens a new show in her hometown Binghamton, NY. Her art is attracting a lot of attention to that point where her paintings are bringing in tens of thousands of dollars annually. Marla’s dad Mark works overnight at the Frito-Lay plant while her mom Laura is a dental assistant and although dad dabbles in painting, they swear up and down that they do not assist Marla with her work. Just as Marla’s art seems to be more popular than ever, the aforementioned 60 Minutes II report by Charlie Rose hits the tube.



Bar-Lev starts out making a documentary that asks the essential question: What is art? It’s a compelling and complex question to be sure and one capable of being debated for hours on end. In the beginning, Little Marla is the test case as experts and amateurs examine her paintings for signs of the ever-elusive indication that they are the works of a prodigy. Bar-Lev maintains a seemingly healthy distance from his subject allowing the story to tell itself.



The “dad” question, as in: Does dad help/actually paint the pictures? is held in one hand off-screen through much of the first half. When Rose’s piece raises questions, it’s as if those questions shake-up Bar-Lev’s narrative simultaneously as he considers that maybe these people that he’s come to know very well are possibly pulling a fast one. The question is left in an ambiguous way, as if reflecting the divide of the community, are they real or is it a hoax is a matter of opinion. For the most part though, it seems questions of authenticity are quelled, but many in the film remark that the Olmsteads should leave well enough alone, having recouped their good name. Whether or not they do remains to be seen.



The film itself is well executed and the story compelling. This is not a movie for art lovers but rather a movie for people who’ve ever looked at a piece of art and said… well, you know. I remember when the National Gallery bought “Voice of Fire” in 1989; you know that painting that had a red stripe drawn down a blue background in acrylic paint that was purchased for almost $2 million. Remember when everybody scoffed and said, ‘I could paint that,” well, this movie’s for you. Judge for yourself whether you’re in the presence of greatness or grifting.