We are introduced to sketcher extraordinaire Billy Pappas as he prepares for his meeting with Lawrence Weschler, art educator and friend to David Hockey. The history of his project is related in backflashes and visual cues that match what's being discussed onscreen.
Filmmaker Julie Checkoway and her team bring a bucketload of energy, drive, and emotive music as the scenes between Bobby's journey to the Big Apple, and the reason he's going in the first place, are interwoven. We discover that the reason for his meeting is the major project Pappas has been working on: he calls it "Marilyn", he carries it around in a large box, and it's been nearly ten years in the making.
While no one wants to bring up that hoary old issue of ,' it is art or not', once the fruits of Pappas' ten-year labour are unveiled, they are... less than overwhelming. It looks like what it is: a pencil drawing of a photograph.
In this case, it happens to be Richard Avedon's famous, oft-produced photo of Marilyn Monroe, in which the starlet is looking away, her expression bereft and unsure. Good photo, but why draw it?
Checkoway's film, while masterful, certainly leaves the viewer in no doubt as to which side of the line she's on. Waiting for Hockney has all the hallmarks of a cheerleading squad, what with Jeff Beal's over-the-top score and lingering close-ups of Pappas and his family.
While it's touching, it does leave you wondering whether a greater degree of objectivity might've provided a deeper look into the differences that are to be drawn -literally or figuratively -between a person who's a genuine artist and a person who likes to draw.
Pappas himself is presented going about his day in his small farmhouse in Choptank, Maryland -his life isolated, his experience limited. We're not given any context as to his interest in art, or towards his drive in producing it. He seems curiously at odds with the hustle and bustle of New York and L.A., shown later in the film.
His work reminds one of, dare I say, the sort of thing you see hawked outside of any stadium just before a concert or sporting event. Only when magnified does the viewer get a sense of the long, painstakingly detailed process that was involved in "Marilyn"'s creation. The precision of his lines, shading, and shapes are remarkably -but is it art?
And for that matter, why did he choose David Hockney?
The question never seems to be answered in any satisfactory manner.
Given the detailed, technical nature of Pappas' endeavors, perhaps Canadian Robert Bateman would've been a more suitable choice.
Regardless, the differences between the subject's work and that of Hockney is as different as apples to oranges. The long lines. loopy representations, colourful barrages of energy that define Hockey's defiantly-non-realistic paintings are shown in a barrage of edits and collages, as various associates and former assistants are interviewed in relation to his work, and with regards to the proposed meeting.
Charlie Sheips, Hockney's former assistant, who worked for the artist at the time of the sketch's unveiling, nicely conceals the art snobbery that lurks around the edges, though at one point his bewilderment with Pappas and his predicament is as obvious as ours.
"Anyone who presumes to know what David thinks is making a mistake," he says firmly.
It's a pity we hear this only toward the end of the film. The entire structure of the work is clearly built around the assumption that Hockney will love "Marilyn", to the point of giving our hero the leg-up he obviously feels he is entitled to. By the time Hockney's true reactions are revealed (true as they can be, since they are conveyed through others), we're close to exasperation with our hero, and wishing he'd take his pencils to doodling instead.
While a myriad of Hockney's work is shown, the audience is given only... "Marilyn", and a collection of old family photos of Pappas. Where is his work? Is there anything else, besides the Hollywood starlet?
A curious amount of time is given to the oily figures who encouraged Pappas in producing Marilyn -namely Lawrence J. Link, an over-the-top architect who finances the endeavor, and Brother Rene, a local priest. Both are given ample face time at the start of the film, before curiously dropping away and out of Pappas' life. The fact they are portrayed with such passion and enthusiasm is curious in itself; the fact their vanishings are left unresolved is even more mysterious. Audiences crave resolution, probably because it's so lacking in their own lives. Yes, it is a documentary, but nevertheless, Waiting for Hockney still falls into a traditional narrative structure, and as such, its bit players require their loose ends be tied in a way that satisfies the audience.
Stylistically, the film is every bit as painstaking and precise as Pappas' approach to his work; we see shots of his daily planner, with comments like "very upset", or "excited!", written in his characteristic all-caps hand, we see visual representations of daily mundanities like appointments whenever they're mentioned, we see him talking about the sling he used to put his arm in for working, and carefully filling in small sections wearing magnification goggles.
Such visual interjections certainly help to move the story along, but they do nothing to contribute to our understanding of Pappas' drive, nor of his obsession to have Hockney see it. It's almost as if Checkoway doesn't quite trust her viewers -or subject -enough to let them think for themselves. Where Pappas might come off a loser in another flmmaker's hands, here's he's presented as "the little guy" who's chasing his dream. Nice sentiment, but the faith seems misplaced.
Standing outside of Hockney's door, Beal's score is annoyingly sentimental; I had to wonder if dead silence would've been a better choice. Viewers don't need the unsubtle reminder of 'THIS IS A BIG MOMENT' to underline the scene's importance -do they? Everything points to it on its own -from shots of Mrs. Pappas baking a poppyseed cake (to take along and present to Hockney) to Pappas carefully ironing his shirt, to the constant edits between mother and son, backflashes to work, and more shots of written notes in the subject's calendar.
The choice, however, of having such a distinct emphasis on Pappas' family is interesting, because it provides some much-needed context to the drive of its main subject; it's here, in these family scenes, and various edits, where Waiting for Hockney really shines. Checkoway effectively uses the dynamics of the family to symbolize the theme of validation. It is a universally acknowledged truth that an insecure individual will look to his or her family for a sense of worth in their accomplishments. The Pappas family is no different.
We come to see that it isn't only Pappas' own hopes and dreams that are tied up with Hockney's approval and help; the hopes and dreams of his family (specifically his mother) are very much tied up with them as well. Thus the film examines notions of validation, both personal and artistic, and becomes an exploration as to the hows and whys behind choice, relationship, and self-worth.
The last third of the documentary is perhaps the most revealing, as the filmmaker follows Pappas around his hometown, dropping off resumes and getting on with the reality in front of him. The shots of him working in a restaurant, interacting with patrons, counting cash, and clearing tables are moving for their honesty and simplicity.
Waiting for Hockney ends with Pappas revealing a self-portrait he is now working on; much less detailed than "Marilyn", done without the aid of magnification goggles or arm slings, it portrays the skilled technician, naked and defenceless, nicely realized, with only the head yet to fill in.
Pappas explains that he hasn't finished that part; however, he's come to realize "what a fortune it is being able to draw". He's more interested, as he says, of "how I may surprise myself."
His self-portrait, like the artist, lacks a face, and yet, as Checkoway implies, he's still searching -only this time, David Hockney has nothing to do with it.
Waiting for Hockney screens at the Royal on Saturday, April 26th, at 9.30pm.
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