6 ★ FINANCIAL TIMES Thursday20 February 2020

ARTS

‘The Village

Where I

Came From’

(1991)

(detail)

Max McClure

H

ad Pacita Abad been Ital-

ian, she would have been

described as aforza di nat-

ura. In truth, she was born

in Batanes, an archipelago

in the northern Philippines. By the time

she passed away in 2004, she had

painted more than 1,000 canvases and

travelled through more than 80 coun-

tries, from many of which she borrowed

local artistic techniques. As a result, her

art is a captivating, provocative broth

that encompasses painting, sewing,

embroidery, batik, macramé, Korean

ink brush and a myriad other practices.

Yet it always maintains both formal dis-

ciplineandpoliticalintent.

Congratulations to Spike Island in

Bristol for giving Abad her first public

showing in the UK. The exhibition’s

title,Life in the Margins,isnotquiteaccu-

rate. Abad’s work was shown widely

during her lifetime, in countries as

diverse as Singapore, Cuba, Bangladesh,

the US and her land of birth. Buther

activity unfolded mostly across a south-

eastern axis — when she did show in the

US, it was usually in the context of her

ethnicorgenderidentity.

The exuberant majesty of Abad’s can-

vases underlines the foolishness of such

gatekeeping.Life in the Marginsopens

with a suite of works from the 1980s.

Much-travelled, Abadhad developed a

quilting technique she called “tra-

punto”, which involved painting and

collaging on top of canvas which she

then backed, stuffed and stitched. The

results are scintillating, tactile cornuco-

pias of painting and textiledecorated

furtherwithbeads,shells,buttons,mac-

raméandfoundobjects.

In “Grasshopper” (1985), the abstract

pattern of swooping arabesque forms in

fern green, indigo and turquoise evokes

from a distance the insect’s smooth,

quicksilver leaps in a tropical jungle, yet

its surface abounds with a rainforest of

ingredients including buttons sewn on

byAbadandthenpainted,agesturethat

tells us how much she loved to push her

more-is-morestyletoherutmost.

Abad’s passion for social justice

injected skills often dismissed as deco-

rative with a deeper, darker sensibility.

Made in 1983, one of the most striking

works in Bristol is “Girls in Ermita”,

which shows sex workers in the red

light district of downtown Manila.

Painted on stitched and padded fabric,

its fiery palette — deep reds, citrus

yellow and orange, warm sky-blues —

intensifies the melancholy aura of half-

naked female figures,both vulnerable

anddefiant.

Sharp critical faculties were in Abad’s

DNA. Born into a family of politicians,

she was expected to follow in the foot-

steps of her congressman father, Jorge

Abad. But after she led a student dem-

onstration against President Marcos’s

corrupt elections, her family home was

attacked by gunmen. In fear for her life,

Abadleft the Philippines in 1969 and

moved to the US, where she would base

herselfforthenext30years.

By the 1990s, Abad had embarked on

a body of work entitledImmigrant Expe-

rience. In “Korean Shopkeepers” (1993)

sheuseshersignaturevibrantshadeson

textile to show grocers standing at a

counter laden withfruits including

strawberries she has fashioned from

papier-mâché, and a pineapple whose

translucent glow comes from yellow

glass beads. By making such painstak-

ing efforts to construct the scene, Abad

manifestsbothempathyandrespect.

Abadshowsshehasnoillusionsabout

theambiguityofthewelcomeofferedby

her adopted country in paintings such

as “The Village Where I Come From”

(1991) and “If My Friends Could See Me

Now”(1991).Intheformer,Abadbrings

to life a busy rural community in the

Philippines, complete with nursing

mother, cooks, fruit-pickers, stallhold-

ers and goats. Overseeing their activity

is a glorious tree whose froth of blossom

hasbeenassembledfromrose-pinkbut-

tons. In the second paintinga single fig-

ure, perhaps Abad herself, stands in the

centre of a storyboard-style arrange-

ment of images. Frowning, arms folded

across her chest, she is clearly disap-

pointed with the American dream —

that weary cliché is painted in big black

lettersaboveherhead.

By1998,AbadwaslivinginIndonesia,

where she witnessed the downfall of the

Suharto regime. To capture the sense of

chaos — from collapsing currency to

devastated architecture — she returned

toabstractionwhenshepaints“TheSky

IsFalling,TheSkyIsFalling”(1998).

Two years later, she embarked on a

series entitledEndless Blues, which she

paintswhilelisteningtothebluesmusic

she loved. The turbulence of this late

series — here embodied by “Life in the

Margins” (2002), “Blues Train to

Yogya” (2002) and the towering five-

metre-high “Fly into a Rage” (2000)—

is intensified both by the trauma of

the Twin Towers attack and Abad’s

own diagnosis of lung cancer. Using the

batik technique she learnt in Indonesia,

Abad created canvases whose jewel-

bright colours and compressed, kalei-

doscopic patterns express a grief that is

extraordinarily fecund in its intensity,

as if the canvases are both celebration

andelegy.

Thanks to Abad’s wide horizons —

both as a woman and an artist — we

leave this show with our own borders

enrichedandexpanded.

To April 5,spikeisland.org.uk

Where art, craft and politics intersect

The first UK show of Pacita

Abad’s art revels in her

wide-ranging techniques and

influences. By Rachel Spence

W

ho can forget the day

British industrialist Sir

Richard McCreadie

appeared before the

Parliamentary select

committee, defending his ownership of

high street fashion chain Monda? Ques-

tioned about financial sharp practice,

his mood was testy from the start. Men-

tion of thenickname Greedy McCreadie

darkened it further. Then came the pro-

tester—andthecustardpie.

McCreadie is the invention of the sat-

ireGreed, directed by Michael Winter-

bottom and starring Steve Coogan.

Well —ish. If the lawyers looked away,

you might almost call it a biopic. The

custard pie is borrowed fromRupert

Murdoch’s appearance at the 2011

phone hacking inquiry, but what comes

beforehand seems purePhilip Green,

the retail magnate whose control of

brands includingTopshop nda BHS lsoa

brought him scowling before MPs.

Drawn from life, too, is the lavish bash

on Mykonos at the centre of the film —

like Green’s infamous Riviera parties,

stuffed with models and pop stars. (As

the FT has already noted, sometimes

their budgetsoutstripped that of the

film, a detail you imagine has not gone

unnoticedbytheGreencamp.)

Here, the occasion is the mogul’s 60th

birthday. Invitees include ex-wife

Samantha (Isla Fisher) nd as manya

celebrities as can be mustered by pri-

vate jet. (Fatboy Slim DJs; Stephen Fry

comperes.) The theme is Roman impe-

rial, requiring the hasty construction

of an amphitheatre. A bored lion paces

in a knocked-up cage. McCreadie is

not much cheerier, bemoaning the pres-

ence on the beach of a group of Syrian

refugees. He doesn’t object himself, he

says. It’s his guests. “Some of them are

reallysuperficial.”

Winterbottom owes his own debt to

The Big Short, Adam McKay’s dark free-

wheel through the 2008 financial crisis.

And so for a moment McCreadie is left

where he is whileGreedunfurls a quick-

fire history of his 1980s rise and the tail-

winds behind it. A pathological haggler,

he is first among the competition to see

how far overheads drop with stock

made in south Asian sweatshops. Later,

he embraces another eureka — the lop-

sidedrewardsoftheleveragedbuyout.

he best comedy in the film is usuallyT

the angriest. It tends to be tied up with

thenumberstoo.AsMcCreadiepresents

himself with an outsize cardboard

cheque for a dividend of $1.2bn, a giddy

Samantha tells the assembled staff of

Mondatheprizeisforallofthemtoo.

Metaphorically, of course. The camera

freezes on Coogan’s wide, cold laugh.

$1.2bn was what Green’s wife received

as a dividend in the halcyon days

of 2005. Yet for all the historical

specifics,Greedcan feel oddly vague,

uncertain if it wants to go after rogue

capitalism or just poke fun at a

Filmgoers worried that changing

times may finally threaten the domi-

nance of men in key creative roles will

surely be cheered byLike a Boss a—

broad, unfunny comedy about women

in business from the all-male team of

directorMiguelArtetaandscriptwriters

Sam Pitman and Adam Cole-Kelly. The

trio bring their particular insight to this

story of female empowerment, repre-

sented on screen by Mia (Tiffany Had-

dish) and Mel (Rose Byrne), friends

since middle school, now co-owners of a

chaotic artisanal cosmetics company.

Together, the women have built a repu-

tation for bright ideas — and amassed

the kind of debts that make them easy

prey for beauty industry behemoth

Oviedo, home of dastardly CEO Claire

Luna(SalmaHayek).

Hayek brings more watchability to

the project than it deserves. But she

can’t redeem a film this bafflingly

slapdash. There are stoned pratfalls

and extended bits about the results of

eating too many chillies. One sequence

is a lift from Harold Lloyd’s silent classic

Safety Last, now three years from its

100th anniversary. Progress comes

slowindeed.

Joan Didion may be rivalled only by

DonDeLilloasagiantofAmericanprose

whose work film-makers are clearly ter-

rified of going near. The fractured adap-

tation of her 1996 novelThe Last Thing

He Wantedfrom director Dee Rees

(Mudbound) won’t change that. The fic-

tional reporter at the heart of the mat-

ter, Elena McMahon (Anne Hathaway),

is not Didion, but writes like her. “Plug

into this news cycle,” she says in voiceo-

ver. “Get the wires raw, nod out on the

noise”. We meet her first in the war zone

of 1982 El Salvador, wondering aloud

whereallthegunscamefrom.

Back in Washington DC, years pass

and her investigation stalls. The desk is

frozen, her editor tells her, the script

high on newsroom jargon, dispatching

her instead into the 1984 presidential

campaign. There, Reagan promises the

crowds they ain’t seen nothing yet, but

McMahon is blown off course by her

semi-estranged father Richard (Willem

Dafoe,turnedupto11).Theoldmanisa

flamboyant gun-runner hose health isw

givingout—andwithanarmssalepend-

ing in Central America, his daughter

crosses moral and professional borders,

andtakeshisplaceexecutingthedeal.

On the page, the reader is transfixed

by Didion’s spare, sorrowful language.

On screen, Hathaway’s hard work can’t

stop the plot twist feeling silly. The

worlds Rees creates — sheeny hotel

rooms and sweltering compounds — are

thickly atmospheric, but the narrative

dissolves into disjointed vignettes. Cast

as a State Department special adviser,

Ben Affleck has the glazed bearing of a

manlightlysedatedonalong-haulflight.

A simple statistic begins the jolting

documentaryMidnight Family.Toserve

the 9m people of Mexico City, the

authorities operate 45 ambulances.

(Director Luke Lorentzen leaves it

there, but for comparison, London has

450.) You are given half a moment to do

themathsandthenwe’reoff,therumble

of an engine breaking into the wail of a

siren, one of the city’s untold private

ambulances filling many gaps in the

market.Thisexampleisoperatedbythe

Ochoa family. The middle-aged Fer and

his natty 17-year-old son Juan split the

driving and navigation through traffic

while 10-year-old Josué is flung around

the back. And then there is us, along for

therideviawindscreencam.

Much of the film plays like a madly

adrenal action movie. At least once, the

Ochoas have to race another ambulance

to the emergency, their rival’s back door

flapping open. If your instinct is to see

the family as opportunistic, even para-

sitic, part of the reality set out in this

gripping, endlessly human film is how

rarely they make any actual money —

tending to victims of gun battles or hit-

and-runsonlytofindthepatientcan’tor

won’t pay. Lorentzen lets us draw our

ownconclusions,focusedontheoverlap

of the dystopian and quotidian — the

blood mopped up before a snatched

mealofcannedtunainabrightlylitcon-

veniencestore.

Bleached teeth,

sharp practice

FILM

Danny

Leigh

Greed

Michael Winterbottom

AAAEE

Like a Boss

Miguel Arteta

AAEEE

The Last Thing He Wanted

Dee Rees

AAAEE

Midnight Family

Luke Lorentzen

AAAAE

Pacita Abad’s ‘L.A Liberty’ (1992)

tasteless spiv with whitened teeth.

The super-rich seem likely to survive.

After making the film, Winterbottom

broke ranks with its backers atSony,

alleging they stopped him naming as

equally tainted retail titans including

Zara’sAmancio Ortega andH&M’s

Stefan Persson n the closing titles.i

Those with long memories will recall

that the real protester who took aim at

Rupert Murdoch in 2011 was thwarted

by the forceful intervention of Mur-

doch’s then wife, Wendi Deng. Custard

pies,itturnsout,remainunreliable.

Gripping:

‘Midnight

Family’ focuses

on the private

ambulance

operated by the

Ochoa family

Pathological haggler: Steve Coogan in ‘Greed’

FEBRUARY 20 2020 Section:Features Time: 2/202019/ - 18:06 User:david.cheal Page Name:ARTS LON, Part,Page,Edition:EUR, 6, 1