Paint

Perhaps unable to secure the rights to the Bob Ross life story, the makers of Paint instead invented Carl Nargle, who feels like a watered-down caricature.

This thinly veiled biopic has fun with the obvious parallels between fact and fiction in a slight character-driven comedy that’s more affectionate than mocking. However, plot contrivances spoil any narrative beauty.

Ross, for those unaware, was a syndicated 1980s television host known for his bushy perm, his nature paintings of mountains and “happy little trees,” and his soft-spoken philosophical reassurances to his viewers.

Sporting the same retro hairstyle, the film opens with Carl (Owen Wilson) conversing on camera with a blackberry bush. As the star of his own instructional painting show on Vermont public television, he’s a celebrity but also an iconoclast.

Carl is a relic who’s content to exist in his own little bubble, beholden to the routines and fashion choices he’s maintained for decades. He drives a vintage van and is averse to technology. His voice rarely rises above a whisper. Every artwork, it seems, features his beloved Mount Mansfield anchoring the idyllic scenery.

His show is still popular, but the demographic is aging. So what happens when he is confronted with modern realities such as evolving tastes and slipping ratings? Can he reinvent himself?

The station manager (Stephen Root) brings in a younger artist named Ambrosia (Ciara Renee) to host a companion show with a more modernized and edgy approach. The changes damage Carl’s relationship with Katherine (Michaela Watkins), his producer and ex-lover harboring unfulfilled aspirations.

When his supremacy is challenged, it bruises Carl’s ego and prompts past secrets to resurface, unleashing a downward spiral of hostility and competitiveness that threatens his legacy.

Paint captures an appropriately kitschy and nostalgic tone in the first half, complete with John Denver and Gordon Lightfoot on the soundtrack.  Meanwhile, Wilson captures the essence of a man with debatable artistic talent but a remarkable ability to persuade and transfix viewers with his calm optimism.

The screenplay by rookie director Brit McAdams provides some scattered laughs but struggles to dig beneath Carl’s pretty pictures. It broadly critiques the misogynistic contemporary media landscape but seems indifferent toward exploring artistic inspiration or the creative process.

The result is a bittersweet character study that replicates the same level of bland uplifting nonsense it seeks to satirize.

Rated PG-13, 96 minutes.