Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict

Overview

If 2015's slate of documentaries has taught audiences anything — and filmmakers, too — it's the value of personal recordings, private scribblings and lost tapes. Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck, Amy and Listen to Me Marlon all used previously unheard ramblings, unread notes or unseen footage as their basis, all to great effect. Their accounts of famous subjects unfolded in the best manner possible: in their own unguarded words. Sourcing its treasure trove of audio from a shoebox stashed in a basement for decades, Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict endeavours to do the same as it peers back at the achievements of its titular socialite and collector.

Indeed, her musings, all immortalised in the late 1970s by her biographer, provide the highlights of an otherwise cursory film. Guggenheim is a fascinating figure who lived a life most can only dream of, and her personality drips through in her voice and recollections. The material assembled around it, while plentiful, can only feel ordinary in comparison. It traces over the same details, rather than filling in the gaps. Meanwhile, Guggenheim's own mutterings and the accompanying chats, clips and images, seem content with offering description rather than depth.

They still tell quite the tale, of course. Born into one of New York's wealthiest Jewish families, the daughter of Titanic victim Benjamin and niece of museum namesake Solomon, Peggy eagerly took on the role of rebel and black sheep, with her refusal to conform to expectations one of the strengths of her ventures in the art world. In Paris in the 1920s, she started buying pieces that caught her eye, and continued to do so until her death in Italy in 1979. In between, she befriended many an artist, founded galleries in Europe and the US, saved pieces from the Nazis and unearthed emerging talent such as Jackson Pollock.

When director Lisa Immordino Vreeland isn't letting Guggenheim do the talking, she's compiling the usual mix of archival footage and interviews, with Marina Abramovic and Robert De Niro among those featured. It's the same tactic the filmmaker used in her last effort, Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel — but while both movies are straightforward in their approach, there's considerably less energy and personality this time around.

Vreeland's struggle with tone — never quite knowing whether to interrogate the gossip that surrounded Guggenheim's personal affairs or to simply recount the rumours — certainly contributes to the film's lack of liveliness, as does its insistence on serving up a standard biographical documentary instead of a true reflection of its subject. It still makes for pleasant-enough viewing, particularly for art addicts themselves, but it never manages to fully do Guggenheim justice. In fact, it's only her vocal presence that stops the movie from amounting to little more than an interesting video of a Wikipedia listing.