Steven Soderbergh paints his way out of a corner with the witty art-world delight The Christophers

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The Christophers

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

Written by Ed Solomon

Starring Ian McKellen, Michaela Coel and James Corden

Classification PG; 100 minutes

Opens in select theatres April 17

Critic’s Pick

The great joke nestled inside the heart of the new chamber comedy The Christophers is that its focus, a famously inactive artist coaxed back into doing what he does best after all but retiring, arrives courtesy of an artist who, having supposedly “retired” more than a decade ago, is almost unable to stop working. His seventh film of the past five years – not counting two television miniseries – The Christophers finds director Steven Soderbergh continuing his insatiable journey of cinematic exploration, and seemingly having the time of his life.

However the director has mustered the energy to keep the momentum going to say nothing of the resources and dedication of an industry increasingly skittish of anything with the faintest whiff of experimentation – may he remain un-retired till his very last breath.

Not so relentlessly committed is Julian Sklar (Ian McKellen), a British painter whose work still commands huge sums on the auction block, even if he’s mostly holed himself up in his London flat, busying himself by recording rambling lectures for emerging artists. Worried that their financial futures are being frittered away by inactivity, Sklar’s selfish adult children – a pair of Tweedledum and Tweedledee-like siblings played by James Corden and Jessica Gunning – seek out the help of Lori (Michaela Coel, from HBO’s I May Destroy You). Once a promising artist herself but now reduced to working out of a food truck on the banks of the Thames, Lori is offered a devil’s bargain: Make nice with Julian inside of his home, then confiscate a series of never-finished paintings and complete them on her own using her considerable forging skills. The siblings will then sell the work on the open market and she’ll get a cut of the sure-to-be-huge profits.

Naturally, the plan doesn’t unfold that way, with the script from Ed Solomon – a frequent collaborator of Soderbergh’s who most recently worked with the director on the twisty but not quite successful HBO miniseries Full Circle – contorting itself into something new every few pages, until the grand reveal makes everything very (and maybe far too) clear.

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Mostly a two-hander between a pair of artists warily sizing the other up, The Christophers – named for the eight unfinished portraits so desired by Julian’s heirs – could very easily fall into a stagey sort of theatricality. The dialogue is often delicious, especially when its rat-a-tat witticisms are delivered by such pros as McKellen and Coel. But with much of the action contained within Julian’s near-hermetic estate, there is a constant danger of suffocating the audience with intense intimacy.

Soderbergh, once again acting as his own cinematographer under the alias Peter Andrews (and editor, with the nom de plume Mary Ann Bernard), finds his own way of keeping the camera swirling and twirling, electrifying lengthy, densely composed monologues that require some visual energy to keep them from landing with a cinematic thud.

The director also does a remarkable job keeping his actors from playing to the rafters, a strong temptation when it comes to this kind of extremely talk-y production. McKellen keeps things just this side shy of histrionics as a master in his own mind (and maybe others’), so much so that it’s difficult to imagine any actor of his vintage giving the role so much relatable life.

But Coel, steely and uncompromising as a character who feels the crushing weight of economic desperation at every turn, is even better than her more recognized co-star. It is a kind of intellectual cage match, and Soderbergh ensures that he’s close enough to capture every new injury and triumph. No rest for the wicked, after all.