Is the canvas-doodling of a 5-year-old any more or less important than the abstract work of a 40-year-old “master”?
Does a family that seeks publicity deserve everything it gets when things go sour?
Why do all of the national media seem to pounce on the toogood-to-be-true story all at once, with such credulity?
Does a documentary filmmaker have the right to sweet-talk a family into sitting for interviews, then turn on them halfway through the movie?
When is a finger painting worth $20,000?
Your family will be debating the answers to all these questions if you’re smart enough to rent “My Kid Could Paint That.” A top pick at Sundance in 2007, “My Kid” tells the story — or at least part of the story — of little Marla Olmstead, a child who supposedly took up abstract painting a few years ago in Binghamton, N.Y.
Olmstead became an overnight sensation, her parents and a sleazy promoter selling her paintings for thousands of dollars. Then the crash came, when “60 Minutes” questioned whether she was doing the famous works on her own.
Filmmaker Amir Bar-Lev befriends the family and follows the saga. So many things aren’t quite right — the too-trusting mother, the dad with the shifty eyes and a talent for painting, the fact that Marla can’t seem to reproduce a winner while being filmed. It’s the kind of documentary that is so intimate, it makes you uncomfortable for the participants. And that kind of questioning is what the film is all about.
Michael Booth: 303-954-1686 or mbooth@denverpost.com
