Dalíland is explores the famed surrealist painter’s inevitable decline

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Editor’s note: Anna Starkey is taking the week off from Split Screen, so Glen tapped his friend Chuck Maxie to pen Split Screen this week.

Mary Harron (I Shot Andy Warhol, American Psycho, The Notorious Bettie Page) directs John Walsh’s (Ed’s Next Move) screenplay about the iconic but idiosyncratic artist Salvador Dalí (Ben Kingsley) and James (Christopher Briney), the young gallery assistant helping the aging artist prepare for a New York exhibition, who gains entrance to Dalí and his eccentric circle of hangers-on. (97 min.)

Glen My first thought after watching Dalíland is that it must have sucked to be Salvador Dalí. His whole life was a performance. The film begins with a re-creation of Dalí’s appearance on the 1950s gameshow What’s My Line? He’s asked a series of questions: “Are you associated with any of the arts?” “Would you ever have been seen on television?” “Are you a performer?” “Would you be considered a leading man?” To which Dalí answered “Yes,” “Yes,” “Yes,” and, “Yes.” He truly was all those things. This story, however, takes up after Dalí’s prime. It’s the decadent ’70s, and he’s living with his wife and handler, Gala (Barbara Sukowa), in a New York hotel surrounded by hangers-on. He’s fallen out of the critics’ favor. His most important paintings are behind him, yet he must deliver more work for a show to keep the money flowing for his outsized lifestyle. There’s something sad and desperate about him, but he must maintain his air of regal superiority. He is Dalí, the master. Sounds exhausting!

Chuck Dalíland is an intriguing memoir as it dives into his life and the dealings of the art world. The flashbacks are fascinating and revealing of Dalí’s character and general makeup. The wheeling and dealing (shenanigans) of his art add an interesting subplot to the film. Kingsley is amazing, by the way. Of course, we already knew that because he is Ben Kingsley.

Glen I was well aware that Dalí’s prints and lithographs were counterfeited on an epic scale, but this story suggests he was in on the scam. One scene, after they’ve left New York and returned to Europe, shows him signing blank pieces of paper that will presumably be printed and sold as limited-edition lithographs. Dalí, like Picasso before him and Andy Warhol after, became a cult of personality and a big business. It’s been reported that when dining out, Picasso would pay by check and do a little doodle, and the restaurant owner would rather keep the doodle than cash the check. We see Dalí doing the same. What was really fascinating to me was the dynamic between Dalí and Gala. She ruled him, and he liked it. We also get a glimpse into his aberrant sex life—he liked to watch and may have been gay—but Gala was the love of his life, and she used him and treated him like dirt. It’s also James’ story, but he was interchangeable, like the beautiful women Dalí surrounded himself with. James thought he was special to Dalí, but only Dalí was special to Dalí.

Chuck True. Yet it must have been tough to be Dalí. Constantly performing or being “on.” The parties, the art shows, the public persona—the movie depicts him in a constant state of illusory conditions with a considerable entourage of much younger people that serve or play a role. When James presents Dalí with a gift of his signatures over the years, the comment is made that Dalí is constantly evolving, as if he is perpetually molting his exterior. Whereas in truth, he’s quite troubled at his core throughout. Δ

Senior Staff Writer Glen Starkey and contributor Chuck Maxie wrote Split Screen this week. Glen compiles listings. Comment at gstarkey@newtimesslo.com.

This article appears in Winning Images 2023.