NEW Basquiat (DVD)

After watching it, I wouldn't mind learning more about the real Basquiat as all biopics take their poetic liberties, but to be honest I don't particularly care how factually accurate this film really is, or how good Basquiat's work may or may not have been.

That's because this film simply SHINES and stands on its own as a celebration of true artists everywhere and at any time, famous or obscure.

Just about every character is superb, from Wright to Oldman, Bowie, Del Toro, Walken, and especially the drop-dead, knock-out gorgeous Clare Forlani. The cinematography is beautiful (makes you want to move to NYC, 9/11 be damned), the music is perfectly chosen, the dialogue flows and crackles effortlessly.

To those who disliked this film because they dislike Wright's character, who dislike the film's lack of a simplistic plot structure, who (perhaps understandably) dislike modern art and late 20th century art scene---I say, go out and rent some kitschy piece of [junk] like "The English Patient!" This film is really not so much about Basquiat but about art and artists, the best of which tend to be gloriously AMORAL and ANARCHISTIC. *Not* clean, cutesy, predictable or "respectable."

This movie is a beautifully filmed tribute to an artist by an artist. There is a scene in the film where we watch old 8mm clips of Basquiat's friend Andy Warhol. I get the feeling Julian Schnabel wished there was a big collection of 8mm home movies with which to make a tribute out of, but lacking that did the next best thing and made a movie. I felt like the whole movie was a film version of friends getting together and saying "remember that time he...." The film does tend to jump around a bit, and not everything is explained fully. Think back on someone close to you who died. Think of how you remember that person. Not as a complete biography, but a collection of memories. Times that make you laugh, times that make you cry, times you wish others had experienced so they can know fully what the loss means to you. This movie captures that feeling and draws you into this close group of friends. It lets you share those times from the inside. Each person is represented by at least one clip. Each person has at least one memory to share. Basquait drifts around the film in a dreamy disconnected way. These scenes are only memories. The character does not grow or change because we remember our friends the way they were when they died. We freeze them and wrap them in a protective blanket that repels all fault we may have placed on them in life. I have never watched a film that captures these feelings so well. This film made me feel like I was invited to Basquiat's wake and allowed to share in the memories.