‘Condo Painting’ Presents an Intriguing Look at Artist

John McNaughton’s documentary “Condo Painting” sounds like a put-on, and in a way it is, even though that title refers not to an apartment house getting a face lift but to a witty study of artist George Condo at work. A boyish-looking man in his 40s with a shock of thick, black hair, Condo is an important figure in the Manhattan art scene.

Condo, who has a quiet though intense demeanor, explains that the fantasy creatures in his imagination, which he calls “antipodes,” demand that he express them on canvas. It sounds like a fancy way of saying he’s been inspired by cartoon and comic-book characters he fell in love with in childhood.

While he doesn’t delve into the subject of animation and animators, he goes on about the cherished TV series of his youth. At one point we see him affixing head shots of Lucille Ball, Irene Ryan as Granny in “The Beverly Hillbillies” and others onto the classic portraits of the Old Masters in a lavish coffee-table-type history of art.

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Surely, he asks, is not “Granny” as important as the “Mona Lisa”? It’s a surprising question, really, when you consider how long popular culture has been taken seriously, especially since Andy Warhol taught us it was OK to admit what we already secretly liked much of in the first place--movie star publicity shots and the familiar images of commercial art, specifically.

The focal point of the documentary, which was shot over several years beginning in 1996, is Condo’s concentrated painting--and painting over and over again--an image of a Mickey Mouse-like creature on a gigantic canvas. In the course of its evolution, Condo visits William S. Burroughs, and they chat about Abstract Expressionism and collaborate on an action painting (made with a plumber’s plunger and human excrement). Allen Ginsberg visits Condo, who paints a white skeleton on his black sweater and pants.

Condo visits his parents in Massachusetts, not far from the hometown of his other Beat hero, Jack Kerouac, who is heard reciting his “Sea Is My Brother.” There is no question that Condo is an intellectual deeply influenced in his thinking by the Beat writers, and the deaths of Burroughs and Ginsberg, whom he calls his best friends.

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Indeed, Condo paints over his fanciful Mickey-like image with its pink sky and turns to an increasingly somber, simpler style until he arrives at a wistful, dark red mouse peering out from a gray background.

Shot in High-8 video later transferred to 35-millimeter film, “Condo Painting” has an edgy feel and a knockout soundtrack featuring music and original songs by Danny Elfman, Tom Waits, Philip Glass, Beck and many others. “Condo Painting” exudes East Coast hipness and chic, and McNaughton’s approach to Condo is sharp enough to keep us intrigued if not exactly rewarded.

Eventually, Condo signs his painting and it’s time for him to step back and let us appraise it. One film critic described it as looking like a Disney cartoon cel, and that’s on the money. In this instant you realize, if you had not already done so, that the finished picture makes much of Condo’s remarks seem silly and pretentious. Condo has an imagination that can amuse and delight, and maybe he really ought to let his work speak for itself.

* Unrated. Times guidelines: mature themes.

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‘Condo Painting’

A USA Films release of an October Films presentation. Director-videographer John McNaughton. Producer Dana Giacchetto. Written by George Condo and McNaughton. Editor Elena Maganini & Tom Keefe. Music supervisor Jim Sampas. Running time: 1 hour, 27 minutes.

At selected theaters.