A fictitious snapshot of influential photographer Diane
(pronounced “Dee-anne”) Arbus — think of it as a sort of impressionistic
Polaroid biopic — Fur stars Nicole
Kidman in the title role, and she brings her characteristic full-bodied
attentiveness and intelligence to the part. Still, even this isn’t enough to
bring to a full boil what is essentially a very symbolically telegraphed and
half-lidded sketch about desire, burgeoning self-expression and independence.
screen by director Steven Shainberg’s Secretary
partner Erin Cressida Wilson, Fur is
a sort of through-the-looking-glass tale, centered around Arbus’ putative
“inner experience,” and thus inventing characters and situations wholesale. One
can’t say for certain whether it was this approach that in part, large or
small, resulted in the movie’s commercial implosion (it grossed all of $220,000
domestically, though its widest release came at less than 40 screens), but it
undoubtedly further segregates the subject matter from those that might
otherwise be at least half-interested in either a historical biopic or tale of
self-actualization. Fur, you see, is
about Arbus’ personal growth through a relationship with a guy… covered in fur.
Set in New York City in 1958, the story unfolds in a high society world, the sort of place
where Diane’s momentary tearing up and excusal from a presentation is cause for
gasping, whispered chatter. Yes, Arbus is another oppressed housewife, you see, stifled by
life as an assistant to her portraiture and advertising photographer husband, Allan
(Ty Burrell). She harbors her own considerable talents, though, and soon meets
Freudian with Lionel (Robert Downey, Jr.), a new neighbor stricken by
hypertrichosis, which results in a thick coat of hair that covers his body,
head to toe. Though he hides his face under a bag, Lionel’s penetrating gaze
strips the veneer off of Diane’s tidy reality, and she soon finds herself
sucked into what might be characterized as an emotional affair. She begins to meet with Lionel under the guise of taking his photo, but never quite gets around to doing so.
subtlety and restraint; Arbus’ journey isn’t quite as in lockstep with Betty
Freidan as one might imagine. Allan is a compassionate and sympathetic figure,
and he initially quite supports his wife’s artistic awakening. Even when Diane
begins to shut him off in more explicit or pronounced ways, much of his
frustration is channeled inward — though he does (somewhat amusingly) grow a
beard in a silent gambit of plaintive outreach. The film’s problem, really, is
that it places such weight on an admittedly contrived plot point and character, and so we
learn nothing of consequence about Arbus or her real-life work. She comes across here as widely defined, a placeholder for the creative spirit.
ratio of its theatrical exhibition, Fur
comes packaged in a regular Amray case, and is anchored by English language
Dolby digital 5.1 surround and stereo surround audio mixes that are each a bit
low on dialogue register, but nicely capture Carter Burwell’s music — full of moody,
heavy string pieces that at times recalls Phillip Glass and at other times Angelo
Badalamenti. Optional English and Spanish subtitles are also included.
features, which consist of a brief making-of featurette nipped from HBO’s First Look series, deleted scenes with optional
commentary by Shainberg and an audio commentary track from the director, who
allows no lulls, uncomfortable or otherwise, to intercede. Generally eschewing
production anecdotes, Shainberg disdains the line of reasoning that Arbus’ portraiture
work of dwarves, giants and deviants is exploitative. A lot of his patter,
though, merely points up Fur’s
ladled-on representational topcoat. “To some extent film is about transmission
of his world to her,” Shainberg says at one point; then, “Lionel being upstairs
is a metaphoric representation of Arbus’ inner life — the world that she wants
to explore is right there.” Sure, we get it. What of Diane’s deeper, truer
feelings, though — unattached to anyone else, family or otherwise? Fur looks past this forest through the
trees, beholden in willful fashion to its own immaculately tasteful art-posturing. C- (Movie) B (Disc)
The reason why Fur flopped so badly is that much of the film is pretentious and cheesy – it’s one of those films best left forgotten: Too much sentimental melodrama in a film that is slow and boring, but much worse is that it wallows in cornyness which goes against what Diane Arbus and her work was about.
My friends and I asked the theatre for our money back and luckily they gave it to us as we hadn’t been the only ones to complain.