Soderbergh’s Secret Masterpiece: A Heist of the Heart
Julian Sklar spends most of his workday performing on camera. Not for anyone important; the cantankerous artist, played with signature grit by Ian McKellen, is the protagonist of Steven Soderbergh’s new movie, The Christophers. He spends his hours recording jokey Cameos for eager fans, rambling about a fading career with a kind of chipper, desperate bumptiousness. Julian, US News Hub Misryoum has observed, is guarding a series of unfinished masterpieces in his home that he refuses to complete or sell. His greedy children want their hands on his stash, so they concoct a scheme: hire an assistant to secretly finish the paintings under his nose. It’s a classic setup for a heist movie.
This is a Soderbergh project, after all, and he is a known master of the heist movie genre. His career has been defined by his ability to pivot between massive, slick spectacles and these more intimate, character-driven projects. However, the premise of The Christophers quickly abandons the typical caper expectations. While the film initially centers on the theft of artistic labor, it soon pivots into something far more tender. As Lori Butler, played by the incredibly compelling Michaela Coel, integrates herself into Julian’s messy, crumbling life, the film transforms into a thoughtful meditation on the relationship between art and commerce. It is arguably Soderbergh’s most plainly emotional story in years, showcasing a rare, vulnerable side to his directorial fingerprint.
It is a rare treat to see these two performers share the screen.
Coel serves as the perfect, enigmatic wild card against McKellen’s overt, grumpy performance. Where McKellen effortlessly conjures a warm, recognizable presence, Coel has a distinctive on-screen manner that unsettles as much as it compels. She plays Lori as a blank slate, an impenetrable force that Julian eventually finds himself trying to crack. Every time I thought I had predicted the direction of writer Ed Solomon’s script, the film would make a jarring, fascinating shift. It tweaks the delicate balance in their tête-à-tête, peeling back layers of Lori’s true intentions. McKellen lands every snippy bon mot with precision, but Coel makes every tiny crack in her facade resonate with the audience.
The dynamic between the two leads keeps the film from ever feeling too cramped or quiet. It is a psychological dance, one where Julian insists on destroying the works that the world is desperate to see, while Lori pretends indifference to hide her true mission. The real heist of The Christophers is that Soderbergh managed to sneak such a bittersweet, human tale into theaters, cleverly dressed up as a simple, silly caper. While it would be nice to see him return to a larger, blockbuster scale, this run of smaller efforts proves he is playing in his own league. He knows exactly how to keep the viewer hooked while allowing the story’s emotions room to breathe.