It’s a classic conundrum: watching A-list talent pour their heart and soul into projects that wouldn’t pass muster for a high school drama class is nothing short of tragic. Enter The Gallerist, a film where Oscar winners Natalie Portman, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Da’Vine Joy Randolph—joined by Jenna Ortega, Zach Galifianakis, Sterling K. Brown, and Daniel Brühl—play a game of artistic Twister while trying to prop up a plot that’s flatter than a forgotten soufflé.
Unfortunately, none seem to realize that, in this comedy directed by Cathy Yan, the punchlines fell flat before even being served. Within the first ten minutes, the film boldly announces its themes only to spend the remaining runtime desperately trying to wring laughs from a situation reminiscent of Weekend at Bernie’s—but without the charm, of course.
Polina Polinski (that’s Portman, folks), finds her Miami art gallery teetering on the brink of financial oblivion. For her Art Basel debut, she’s decided to showcase the work of an emerging artist, Stella Burgess (Randolph)—the last flicker of hope before the gallery sinks like a lead balloon.
Before we get lost in the glorious absurdity of her short white wig—a reflection of Polina’s sharp demeanor that screams “I mean business!” but instead screams “I lost a bet!”—the film attempts to paint a chaotic picture of art-world frivolities that can hardly be viewed through a lens of sophistication.
Picture this: Polina is trying to buff the gallery floor while surrounded by safety cones directing attention to a puddle created by a malfunctioning air conditioner. Because nothing says ‘high art’ like trying to prevent a drowning in a gallery opening, right? In her determination to avoid embarrassment, Polina ignores her assistant Kiki (Ortega), only to face a snobby influencer named Dalton Hardberry (Galifianakis), who takes his disdain for art—and Polina—far too seriously.
As the tension flares, Dalton slips on the wet floor and unintentionally impales himself on Stella’s ‘art,’ a large sculpture that doubles as a statement on masculinity—because nothing says ‘thought-provoking’ quite like a body in a gallery. And surprise! Not a single patron seems to bat an eyelash as they declare the “installation” nothing short of brilliant. It’s safe to say the film is attempting to make a witty statement on art’s absurdity, but like Polina, good intentions lead to disaster.
As art critics say, “One man’s tragic death is another woman’s ticket to success.” In a plot twist worthy of watching paint dry, Polina rebrands Dalton’s gruesome demise as performance art, all the while receiving assistance from Kiki’s influential aunt Marianne Gorman (Zeta-Jones), who doesn’t even flinch at the ethics of selling a corpse. Ah, modern art—equally chaotic and capitalistic!
Though The Gallerist has its fair share of satirical snark aimed at the pretentious art world, it ultimately loses its way. The film is a parade of familiar tropes and archetypes, much like the tired clichés of a second-rate art installation. The frenetic camera work and chaotic editing cannot hide its lack of substance, leaving Portman spinning in a ballet of aimless ambition without a punchline in sight.
Like a failed masterpiece that earns more eye-rolls than applause, The Gallerist swings for the satirical fences but ends up striking out. The film serves as a reminder that when it comes to art—and perhaps life—sometimes the best intentions lead to the most absurd outcomes.
