'The Collaboration' Review: Paul Bettany and Jeremy Pope Play Icons of the Art World on Broadway

Caesar meets Cleopatra, Stalin meets Roosevelt, Marilyn Monroe meets the Kennedy brothers: all consequential connections. The same goes for the meeting and the eventual partnership organized by the wise New York gallery owner Bruno Bischofberger (a fine and solid Erik Jensen) of two popular painters who dominated the artistic scene of the 1970s and 1980s: Andy Warhol ( Paul Bettany) and Jean-Michel Basquiat (Jérémy Pope). They could have been professional rivals or friendly enemies, but in Anthony McCarten's "The Collaboration" ("I Wanna Dance With Somebody," "The Theory of Everything"), both artists are articulate and unpredictable individualists. With director Kwame Kwei-Armah helming this Young Vic production, the acting is nothing short of eye-catching.

Pope seems to be everywhere these days, from the Toronto International Film Festival (for "The Inspection") at the Young Vic, where "The Collaboration" was born. But even on the intimate stage of the Manhattan Theater Club's Friedman Theater on Broadway, he has both a theatrical presence and a personal drive that makes him impossible to resist.

Like Jean-Michel Basquiat, he easily convinces us of the flamboyant talent of this rambling street painter, whose work that we don't actually see. "I think I'm better than everyone else," Basquiat brags, but Pope captures the vulnerability and youthful breath of innocence behind the boastfulness. Even the neglected state of the artist's Far-East-Village studio (courtesy set designer Anna Fleischle) has a certain childish quality to it. "Mess is good" is his credo. “The mess is real. Brothel is life."

Visually, artistically, emotionally, the chaos is enough to reflexively set the picky Warhol back. "You're all spontaneous and wild and so deep and mystical," Andy says, in the delightfully funny tone Bettany adopted to play him. This terse statement may be insightful, but it's not a compliment.

Andy's style is diametrically opposed to Jean-Michel's. "It's all about surfaces now," he says of his own repetitive subjects and flat aspects. "I make art that forces you to ignore it, the same way we ignore life." (Jean-Michel's response - "It's a weird theory of art, man" - is just for the money.) Bettany gives a smart physical performance as Warhol (here's a man who knows how to wear a wig ) while getting deep enough into his character to locate a real heart, if not a soul.

Although the two painters seem to have absolutely nothing in common, their working relationship proves fruitful. Two years after the start of the project, Jean-Michel and Andy produced 15 paintings and quickly became friends. In the second act, we see them working diligently on number 16 and talking, talking, talking. Despite a few offstage happenings, there's no conflict, no action, nothing at all dramatic - but there's plenty of fascinating discussion in store.

We learn, on the one hand, that Andy's monotonous style is rooted in his belief that big business is overwhelming our culture and will inevitably invade the world and crush us all. The fear - and thrill - of this vision is the source of his creativity, the reason for his bitter spirit, and the cause of his crippling creative block.

At the start of their collaboration, Basquiat was creative on fire and disliked having to work with the most aged and perhaps tapped painter. "I'm not here to bring Andy back from the dead," protests Jean-Michel of their awkward alliance. But as their relationship deepens, Andy teaches her some cold facts about critical success: "You do one thing until you get noticed for it and you don't stop even when you're bored. to die."

It's hard to call this gushing fountain of clever lyrics a play. There is no dramatic form: no plot, no event, no conflict, no danger. But there are two richly drawn characters on stage who have a lot to say for themselves.