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Crumb: Portrait of a Twisted Artist

© Lynn Ward

There are those who argue that the purpose of art is to provoke, to shake things up, to above all, cause a reaction. Under this precept, there is no doubt that cult cartoonist R. Crumb is first and foremost, an artist. His work has been labeled everything from intelligent social commentary to outright pornography, but whatever side of the fence you fall on, it's nearly impossible to consider his work with indifference. Crumb's illustrated world is a mess of contradictions populated by surreal characters, and as director Terry Zwigoff discovers in his 1995 film named for the artist, there is no better description of Crumb's life off the page as well. This is not a man easily understood, but Zwigoff makes a valiant attempt, offering a highly intimate look at the influences and inspiration behind an artist who is idolized by some, despised by others, and fascinating without question.

As the film opens, Zwigoff cuts right to the chase and asks Crumb what he is trying to express through his artwork, a question that is met with a derisive laugh. Crumb refuses to play the popular game of analyzing his comics for deeper meaning, but he does admit that in drawing, he attempts to open up and reveal something about himself. Several people interviewed, including his current wife and ex-wife, describe Crumb as almost catatonically uncommunicative upon initial meetings, compulsively drawing in lieu of conversation. Although Crumb is talkative and certainly candid throughout the film, he clearly uses his comics as a mouthpiece, particularly to voice the darker, more vulnerable side of his personality. To simply interview Crumb would only be half the story. Zwigoff deliberately devotes ample time to the study of his artwork, focusing on specific comic strips that reveal something otherwise unspoken or to emphasize a quality we have already glimpsed in the man himself.

With his comics serving to illuminate the mysterious Crumb, certain fixations become hard to miss. To say he is obsessed with women, sexually and otherwise, is not overstating things. In drawing after drawing, Crumb depicts women who are physically intimidating, full-bodied and strong, but his treatment of these Amazon women is where the controversy lies. While these women certainly appear powerful, they are often suffering violence or humiliation at the hands of weak, seemingly ineffectual men. The question becomes, are these comics a form of degradation or celebration? There is no right answer and Zwigoff does an excellent job of conveying the resulting ambivalence. We hear from a former Crumb model that "he gives women power...I'd felt so inadequate before," and then from a feminist critic that his work is "over the line from satire...into just Crumb producing pornography." Meanwhile an art critic argues they are both missing the point; this is social commentary and simply acts as a mirror, however ugly that image may be. As for Crumb himself, he offers no explanation and appears bemused that it's also taken so seriously.

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