The old adage that artists are by nature a little off the beaten path is for the most part entirely true, at least for those with some accomplishment that stir the proverbial pot. Such is the case for Adam Cullen (Daniel Henshall), a controversial Australian painter who is met by Journalist Erik Jensen (Toby Wallace), given the job of writing a piece about the eccentric. What begins as an odd encounter escalates into a bizarre yet emotional relationship that travels the young Jensen into a world of deep darkness and self destruction.
Co-written by Jenson and Thomas M. Wright, who further directs, this biographical drama is a near blistering expose on the slow collision of these two men, based on the real life relationship between the embattled artist and cynical writer. It’s a small film rounded in unexpected impact rife with intoxicating tension and a couple of crackling performances that bring to life a story colored in art and creativity and doused in personal trauma.
This is a true story, and if you know the real Cullen, then you know where this must end, the film tracking the four-year efforts of Jenson to capture a man who seems to have long escaped the bounds of accepted civility. Much relies on the barely-a-man writer witnessing the mid-forties Cullen take on the world in his unique style, turning the art world on its heels while exploring the bleak recesses of drugs, guns, and soon, dependency on his new follower.
Henshall has the arduous task of representing the famed painter on screen and does so with a talkative, burdensome presence, quick to give the Cullen a sense of disorientation. He welcomes the attention and almost thrives on the exposure of Jenson’s questions and images, but never allows the artists to drift too far into the unsympathetic even when he seem to want to push us there.
Wallace is perfectly cast as the curious and already worldly writer who finds himself drawn into the disturbing behavior of a man who would at any given moment stand in his door nude, shoot him in the leg with buckshot, and introduce him to drugs. He also opens himself up to the gaping wounds just hidden behind the fame that surrounds him.
Based on Jensen’s biography, Acute Misfortune is dark and brooding by design, and Wright’s directorial debut is a stark and often gloriously troubling illumination on a subject that works hard to stay in shadow. It clearly embraces the art of Cullen and respects the talent behind his work, but further humanizes the complexity of what it takes to be that man. Somber and reflective, this is a heavy experience, just as art that makes a difference should be.