One of Kelly Reichardt’s short-story efforts (think Old Joy and Certain Women), Showing Up observes a variety of Oregon artists as they putter away on various minor projects. It has such an unhurried, unassuming air that the movie could be mistaken for an insignificant work of art of its own.
But that’s the trick with Reichardt. While capable of bigger swings on broader canvases, such as Meek’s Cutoff and First Cow (both of which, to be honest, I prefer), her quieter efforts offer rewards of their own. In fact, Showing Up might be a meta argument for them. Michelle Williams gives a prickly performance as Lizzy, a sculptor of slightly misshapen and scantily colored ceramic figures. Instinctively unpleasant, Lizzy floats through her ramshackle artistic circle with a persistent frown: scowling at her artist landlord (Hong Chau), who prioritizes her own work over providing Lizzy with hot water; blankly staring at her mother (Maryann Plunkett), who runs the art school where Lizzy also works as an office assistant; furrowing her brow at her troubled brother (John Magaro), who once held artistic promise but now digs holes in his backyard as part of a project only he understands.
All of that suggests more drama than Showing Up actually involves; the dominant plot actually has to do with a wounded pigeon that Lizzy reluctantly comes to nurture as she prepares for a showing of her work. So yes, short-story material, but intensely observed by Reichardt (especially during the opening credits, where the camera intensely scours Lizzy’s concept drawings), not to mention lightened with enough humorous self-awareness about artistic narcissism to deliver a number of laughs.
Chau provides much of that humor, while Williams is impressively committed to Lizzy’s dour demeanor, caring not one bit whether or not we “like” her. All of which makes the film’s finale more poignant. (Spoilers ahead.) Even though Lizzy’s show is held at a bare-bones gallery and her prized piece did not turn out how she had hoped (one side got charred in the kiln), the space fills up—with disgruntled family members, harried landlords, and more. Given how she’s handled many of these relationships, neither Lizzy—nor, possibly, her art—deserve such attention. And so Showing Up is an argument for valuing the artistic process over the art—and each other, above all else. (Even so, it’s worth recognizing Cynthia Lahti, who created Lizzy’s drawings and sculptures for the film.)
(4/3/2023)