1/10
A dreary cliché
3 June 2022
This review is written by someone with 40 years experience showing in the NYC art world and who was represented in the 1990s by the same NYC gallery as David Hockney.

The film is pretentious, self-indulgent drivel with David Hockney embarrassing himself by even appearing in the darned thing. This production is the kind of self-indulgent nonsense that gives art a bad name. A thoroughly reprehensible, slow-as-molasses bore.

PS FOR THOSE WHO NEED TO KNOW: you can easily find far better frontal nudity on the internet than what's in this film.
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