The perm, the sultry voice, the calm demeanor: all of them were tools in the kit bag of Bob Ross, who painted his way into the homes and hearts of millions for over a decade. “Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal & Greed” isn’t a takedown piece (at least not of Bob), but it isn’t precious about its eponymous subject, either, blending genuine admiration with a healthy dose of introspection that only deepens a viewer’s admiration of the painter.
Making heavy use of talking-head testimonials that span the gamut of friends, family, admirers, scholars, and professional acquaintances, the documentary by director Joshua Rofé moves in an unobtrusively linear direction. Starting with Bob’s early adulthood in the Air Force, it covers his initial artistic efforts, first marriage, and discovery of the “wet-on-wet” painting method he would later make famous. Bob’s work with William Alexander, a pioneer in this style, led to painting workshop opportunities, and later, a television show where he could build on his budding popularity.
In front of the camera, Bob created a soothing, generous persona that emphasized acceptance, creativity, and tranquility, endearing him to millions. And while much of this was done for effect as a deliberate attempt to connect with an expected demographic, Rofé’s interviews with Bob’s son, Steve Ross, as well as professional contemporaries like the show’s director, Sally Schenck, and early partner John Thamm, reinforce this image as entirely legitimate. Indeed, other than a surprising interest in fast cars and mischievous humor, what audiences saw on Bob’s “The Joy of Painting” was genuine.
Were this little more than a hagiography celebrating the saintly life of the second-most admired man on PBS (Fred Rogers holds the primary crown), the documentary would have been charming, yet entirely forgettable. However, Rofé wisely side-steps this unnecessary exercise by homing in on the nasty side of things: the business side. Bob’s business partners, Walt and Annette Kowalski, enter this story as good-natured collaborators and leave as mustache-twirling villains, setting the back half of the documentary up as a reckoning, with Bob’s premature death in 1995 acting as the catalyst.
Rofé does a fine job outlining the timeline of events that led to the fracture of Bob’s relationship with the Kowalskis, who wrangled control of “Bob Ross Inc.” away from Steve Ross and the rest of his family. Cycling through relatives, friends, art historians, and colleagues, a rough narrative begins to emerge and a picture far uglier than anything Bob ever put to canvas comes into focus. Although linear in its presentation, the documentary never feels force-fed or guided, presenting information dispassionately and with a somewhat academic flavor.
This is primarily due to Rofé’s willingness to peel back the veneer of Bob’s on-screen charm to explore the man’s more human side. Far from a saint, America’s favorite soft-spoken painter was a known flirt whose dalliances were something of an open secret within his circle. What’s more, while all the interviewees attest to the fact that Bob Ross was just as kind in person as he was on-screen, many confess that his public persona was the result of deliberate fine-tuning aimed at projecting a decidedly premeditated image.
Far from bursting any kind of bubble for the man, these revelations only make Bob Ross more relatable. Most documentaries surrender objectivity in the struggle to wrestle their subject onto a pedestal, yet Rofé has faith in Bob: understanding that the rougher edges around the painter’s exterior only make him more relatable. Yet it’s a faith that doesn’t extend into a hurried third act, which covers Bob’s lymphoma diagnosis, legal maneuvering with the Kowalskis, and eventual death.
There are two sides to every dispute, and while it might have been impossible to get the Kowalskis on camera to tell their side of things, it would have been helpful to get some kind of response from Joan Kowalski, the daughter of Walt and Annette, or anything that presents something from the other side of this dispute. This is not to say the Kowalskis have any ground to stand on with their position, it just would have been helpful if their side was heard from in a way that could have evened out the documentary’s noticeable slant.
As it stands, the doc feels somewhat straightforward, though not necessarily to a fault. Some text is offered at the top explaining the litigious nature of the Kowalskis, so while it might have been difficult to pull off, a bit more time towards the end unpacking some of the details of the legal battles (as told by people outside of the Ross circle) would have been instructive. That’s okay, though; like Bob used to say, there are no mistakes, just happy accidents. Bob never strove to be perfect in his art, just memorable and honest, and that’s what Rofé has pulled off with this one. [B]
“Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal & Greed” debuts on Netflix on August 25.
