A Conceptual Artist Called Karl Marx

A Conceptual Artist Called Karl Marx starts with some promisingly Kafka-esque shots of a middle-aged man in a sombre black suit walking alone in a park at night, without dialogue, under flickering street lights. He then returns home to make a phone call in the dark, about wanting to be an artist, stating on the voicemail: “Being an intellectual, I will make conceptual art.”

Set in 1999, the film revolves around a reincarnated Karl Marx calling his friend Friedrich to leave phone messages, and then decided to use these recordings as conceptual artwork.

Jorge Luis Villacorta Santamato plays Marx, as a man who does little else but wander around his minimalist house, leaving messages on his phone. He is a reincarnation of Karl Marx, but in this life has decided to become an artist, referring to “my great work” and rambling about people who he believes are listening to him.

Santamato wrote, directed and produced this film singlehandedly, and despite his enthusiasm, this is unfortunately a good example of why this is not a good idea. The self-shot framing on video gives a sense of Blair Witch style cinema verité, but is difficult to watch for an entire feature.

Marx explains: “I have been thinking about conceptual art…the effects of hard work…I need space and time to enjoy myself and my surroundings. Let’s look at it as conceptual art…”. He has random laughing fits on the messages, although about nothing funny in particular, and when he finally slumps on the sofa, the viewer can only hope it’s to take a nap rather than start speaking again.

“I’m the star of your phone, the star of your ear, I’m the one who entertains you…” he croons to the unfortunate Friedrich, who has hopefully switched his phone off to get a good night’s sleep, and then has another giggling fit. “Another beautiful message for my wonderful exhibition…” he starts off a fresh message.

The phone messages are difficult to understand due to the protagonist’s heavy Spanish accent and are delivered in a hesitant, wandering stream of 

consciousness. Marx talks inconsequently while peering out a barred window (presumably a metaphor for being trapped in life?). Are we supposed to believe this is his real house, as there are no personal effects, such as books or pictures, anywhere?

Towards the end of the film, there’s a return to the park where Marx does some more walking around at night with deliberately badly-lit and framed shots, with frequent plane noise or wind sounds making it difficult to tell what’s going on. If Santamato is aiming for a Lynchian sense of urban dislocation, he definitely succeeds, but why is Marx in the park at night? Could he be looking or trying to escape someone or something to create a greater sense of suspense or involvement? The film is aiming presumably for a comedic, low-fi science fiction feel, but it isn’t science fiction themed, nor funny.

There are films with nothing but people talking on the phone, including the 90s classic Denise Rings Up (1995), but they succeed by having a plot and interesting dialogue.

“I have had a lot of fun leaving these messages…” he announces to Friedrich’s voicemail in a final scene, although this is a feeling unlikely to be shared by the viewer.