Warhol. Basquiat. Electric, eccentric, polar opposites… together, for the first time in the most unlikely partnership the art world has ever seen. Paul Bettany and Jeremy Pope star in the thrilling American premiere of the London sensation, The Collaboration. In the summer of 1984, longtime international superstar Andy Warhol and the art scene’s newest wunderkind, Jean-Michel Basquiat, agree to work together on what may be the most talked about exhibition in the history of modern art. But can these two creative giants co-exist, or even thrive?
The Collaboration abruptly turns plot heavy in the second act — early on, Krysta Rodriguez, playing a ex-girlfriend of Basquiat’s, storms in, announces “I need the money to make rent and have an abortion,” and throws a purse for emphasis, a choice I just have to respect. But eventually it makes its way toward the idea that being reduced to a salable art brand is crushing both these men. That’s something Warhol embraced in his own art-making, but as theater, it’s as two-dimensional as a silk screen. As much as it gestures toward depth, the play’s selling the audience these same flattened versions of Warhol and Basquiat. Looking at the faux Marilyn Monroe prints behind the actors, you start to ponder if the performances themselves are achieving anything much different. Buy a ticket and you can get the contours of something familiar and the most basic coloring of the details.
But did the playwright need to make the characters spell out their differences so explicitly? Is that the way these two visual artists would actually speak to one another? Why do so many of the supposed aperçus about art in this play sound canned, at best the kind of practiced lines that art stars say to journalists to sound outrageous? These are the sort of questions that arise here and there during “The Collaboration,” which has a script that can feel surprisingly clunky, in both moments of exposition and in the overall plot, which is largely predictable, even as the actors somehow redeem it.
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