Beuys (2018)

Andres Veiel’s documentary, a portrait of the 20th century sculptor and performance artist Joseph Beuys, draws on a rich archive of contemporary footage to portray the visionary artist. Whilst capturing the essence of Beuys and providing a compelling impression of his humour and a hushed appreciation of a selection of his works, the disjointed structure of the film and lack of narrative thread is problematic, as is the effective omission of chapters of his life and work.

During the making of the film, Veiel spent 18 months in the editing room with a huge archive of photos and hundreds of hours of film and audio footage. The wealth of material at the filmmaker’s disposal is evident, and while this allows for a nuanced depiction of Beuys’ character at times, it creates a disjointed impression overall. The deployment of the chosen material uncovers Beuys’ humour and character; Veiel filmed hours of interviews and other new footage, yet claims the new footage never won out against the contemporary footage of Beuys. In the end, around 90% of the film is made up of archival footage, with just six or seven minutes of new interviews.

The merits of the film undoubtedly lie in the exploration of Beuys’ humour and his role as a disruptive member of the art scene, particularly effective in the footage of him giving a speech in a series of grunts. Veiel states one of the challenges in making the film was to find the private Beuys, those moments when the interview had finished but the camera was still running, and these moments in the film are powerful, giving a glimmer of his psyche. The recurring focus on his face, scarred and shaped by wartime injuries, provides a window to his character and a tactile dimension to the film, as does the depiction of his work with fat and felt.

Notably, there is little social or political context in ‘Beuys’ themes that were synonymous with his life and work. Maybe it is supposed to be self-evident, and at times it is, but the film struggles without more context, especially in later scenes when touching upon Beuys’ political involvement. While the punctuation of the humorous interviews with lengthy, hushed segments of his work is effective, particularly in the case of ‘Plight’, more direction and explanation is needed in the second half when documenting his life; his wartime experience, depression and political engagement. Statements from Beuys in interviews are underexploited; as are opportunities to discuss his most significant works including ‘7000 Oaks’, which is consistently referred to in the second half of the film but never contextualised, despite the footage beautifully documenting the process of planning, fundraising for and eventually installing the work. ‘Beuys’ features footage of the artist in America, including his performance of ‘I Love America and America Loves Me’ in 1974, yet only touches on his time in Scotland when the film opens with filmed footage of a performance of ‘Celtic’ in 1971, and omits other significant works entirely.

The film attempts to capture the essence of Beuys rather than documenting his life and work in narrative form and it succeeds to a degree. Yet, by selecting certain moments to showcase while attempting to provide a somewhat linear depiction of his life in the second half, the gaps become obvious and difficult to ignore. While Veiel addressed this in the Q&A session following the film screening, stating that the addition of too many elements would create too many new chapters, it is difficult to view the film as a fully successful portrait of the artist without detailing his wartime experience and political activism. Richard Demarco, responsible for bringing Beuys to the Edinburgh Festival and a long time associate of the artist, suggests at the end of the screening that the film is a work of art, not made for the world of cinema. Perhaps he is right – while not creating a story and maybe not trying to, the film creates a captivating impression nevertheless.