High Art

The main draw of Lisa Cholodenko's debut film is mid-'80s icon Ally Sheedy's atypically cynical performance as a burned-out, substance-abusing, polymorphously-perverse photographer of the Nan Goldin ilk. And, okay, yeah, it's admittedly somewhat fascinating to see Sheedy again at age thirtysomething--her face drawn and haggard, her manner weary and no-nonsense, her body writhing sensuously against that of baby-faced Australian ingenue Radha Mitchell (Love and Other Catastrophes), who plays the young photo editor with whom Sheedy's Goldin clone gets tempestuously involved. Nostalgia-derived novelty only goes so far, though; getting the viewer's attention is one thing, but holding it is something else again, and ultimately High Art is merely the latest in a dispiritingly long line of movies in which the mere existence of a same-gender relationship is mistakenly assumed to automatically yield world-shaking drama. If you've seen the film, try this mental exercise: imagine that Ally Sheedy's part had been played by, say, Andrew McCarthy (not as ridiculous a notion as it initially sounds, really), and ask yourself whether you'd have cared for a moment about what followed. See? It's a snooze, isn't it? Not recommended. (M. D'Angelo)