Where is the line between art and technology? Is there even one at all? In the realm of cinema, we tend to dismiss the idea that there is any such separation. Movies would not be possible without advanced mechanical (and digital) techniques. But what about the “purer” arts, the older ones? If you use a special device to aid in the painting of a picture, is it a less valid approach than painting only with your eyes and tools? If there’s less “natural” talent in the mix, is the result a lesser piece of art?
These are the questions Tim’s Vermeer tackles. The seventeenth century Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer is widely regarded as one of the greatest painters of all time. His work is renowned for its extreme level of detail and its photography-like ability to express the behavior of light. For centuries, people have speculated as to how he was able to produce such beauty. His methods are unknown to us. Was Vermeer some kind of savant who was able to see in a way that normal humans cannot? Inventor Tim Jenison has an idea as to how he did it. He believes that Vermeer used mirrors when painting, allowing him to essentially “paint over” an image that he could view right next to the canvas. In order to test this hypothesis, Tim decides to use this mirror technique to replicate Vermeer’s The Music Lesson. There to capture his process were famed magicians/skeptics Penn and Teller, who produced and wrote this documentary (Teller also directed).
Although the film is about a topic that’s under intense debate in the art world, it’s not about advancing a point of view. Rather, it’s about proving the viability of an idea. There’s no way for us to know for sure what Vermeer’s techniques were, short of previously undiscovered personal documents of his suddenly coming to light. Thus, the technical and historical arguments in favor of Jenison’s hypothesis are kept to a minimum, and instead his process is the focus of the film. And through this, the doc bolsters its true theme, which is how the marriage of technology to artistry can produce amazing results.
I was skeptical that this premise could survive stretched out beyond a short subject, but this movie is entrancing for much of its runtime. Any engineering buffs will find this hugely satisfying. Jenison isn’t content to merely produce a setup that is theoretically similar to what Vermeer had to work with. He recreates from scratch every single object that’s depicted in The Music Lesson to use as a reference. He handcrafts lenses and mirrors so that they match what would have been available in the 1600’s. He even mixes his own paint the way that the old masters did.
And then there’s the process of painting itself, which is agonizingly meticulous. It takes months on end, as even the tiniest crenellations on the virginal must be drawn. The remarkable thing is that this sequence, which takes up something like a third of the film, is never dull. It acts as a great bit of sustained suspense, building anticipation for the final outcome.
The movie is dragged down somewhat by the presence of Jillette, who both narrates and contributes his viewpoint on the proceedings as the most present interviewee. The former function was forgivable, but there’s no reason that the audience should have to listen to what this guy has to say about art history and optical science when experts like David Hockney are on hand. It’s Jillette’s indulgence as a producer, plain and simple, and it’s irritating. True to his stage gimmick, Teller is always silent, and wise enough to keep himself behind the camera save for a brief cameo.
Tim’s Vermeer is a pleasant documentary. The best I can say for the film is that I was never bored, and that it did a good job of selling this layman on Jenison’s hypothesis about Vermeer’s technique. It accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do – nothing more, nothing less.
