This interesting mistake of a tribute to noted photographer Arbus would like to charm us with it's eccentricity and romanticize with unhinged love, but usually (and literally) drowns in pretension instead. This "imaginary portrait" is taken quite liberally, and a text introduction should be the first thing to clue viewers into that fact. The problem is, no matter what excess of strangeness comes from the freaky centerpiece relationship, it seems to have little significance in detailing a substantial portrait of this so-called artist, in actuality being a more resonant character study of her opposite. In focusing on Arbus's bizarre friendship with a human oddity, Fur means to plant the seeds on what gave this important photographer an inner logic that helped redefine her craft, though instead ends up wallowing in it's own superficial quirks and thematic bludgeoning. Behind the nuanced acting and artful direction lies a simple relationship film that does all it can to overshadow a lack of insight by feeling heavier and deeper then the script allows.

Coming across a Gillian-lite, director Steven Shainberg is more preoccupied with atmosphere and weirdness to realistically suggest what actually made this woman tick, while essentially being based on nothing substantially true. It is as if this ridiculously fictionalized account became so real to creators, they forgot to focus on why it was created it in the first place, becoming slaves to the concept instead of the cause. Thankfully, the miscalculated project was alluring enough to catch the attention of Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr., two leads who make the strained proceedings infinitely more agreeable simply due to their outstanding talent. Kidman knew why she wanted the title role here, even if she might not have known the material seemed unflattering at best. Her delicate sensuality, irresponsibly conveyed it may be, remains the glue around which to hang this frail portrait, and even if you don't like her character, you will still probably like her. Downey takes things refreshingly low-key and offers up an interesting perspective which could have served the film better, had his name been the imaginary title portrait instead.

In effect, no small part of Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus failures remain due to the title itself. By suggesting viewers, let alone fans of this woman's work, are privy to some factually-based docudrama attempting to recreate inspired moments in her life is a joke to her legacy. What's further, this exploitation goes to great unintentional length to wipe out any integrity the lady might actually have, turning beautiful intent into ugly reality with the flicker of a camera. The complete fictional translation of this insipid character study would have been most appreciated, at least taking away some of the bitterness associated with manipulating this person to a pathetic degree, and instead letting it be the indulgent romance it should.