The art world in I Am the Night is a sinister and scary place. I began watching the TNT miniseries not knowing that the journey of the main character, a teenage girl named Fauna Hodel, would take her into a world of menacing-looking surrealist art and happenings populated with creepy characters, among both the performers and the audience.
His private collection of macabre paintings is on loan to a Los Angeles art museum. In the context of the film, the dismembered female figures are more like crime scene photos than art.
I am reminded of the part of Nanette where Hannah Gadsby talked about art history and women, and of a conversation I had with my late aunt while looking at abstract art with her at the Art Institute. What happens when women are reduced to mere parts by male artists? And what kind of men make art like that? And what do they really think of women? Have these artists made this work as a way to sublimate their true desire to act violently against women? Does this art primarily appeal to collectors who are themselves violent men? Have they confused sadism with a true creative vision?
At one point, it's hard to tell if her step-grandmother's contempt for her is out of racism or art world snobbery.
But despite her condescension, she teaches Fauna a few things about the contemporary art of their time that she is able to use to devastating effect in a dramatic confrontation with George Hodel. This California noir is like a V.C. Andrews novel in many aspects, and also has the Gothic element of a gloomy mansion.
After listening to the podcast series, Root of Evil, that Fauna Hodel's daughters released in conjunction with the series, I learned that some of the situations and characters were added to give the story what my screenwriter cousin Darrell calls "Hollywood sizzle." But an interesting fact that was not included is that Fauna Hodel grew up to work in an art gallery.
For further reading, here's an article about the set design from Architectual Digest and an article about the artwork created for the show from Vulture.
