Drew Friedman: Vermeer of the Borscht Belt

Kevin Dougherty’s Drew Friedman: Vermeer of the Borscht Belt takes its place on my list of great docs exploring the life and work of naturally gifted artists who rise into prominence and cultural significance, whilst blazing a trail and cultivating their own unmistakable style. Drew Friedman is just such an artist. Beginning to draw obsessively at an early age, everyone realized little Friedman was more than likely gonna wind up an artist. And after a little push back as he struggled with youthful indecision, Friedman surrendered to his destiny, starting a career capturing the likenesses of the entertainment industry’s not widely regarded and discarded stars, old Jewish comedians, and random folks with interesting faces.

Much like his contemporary Robert Crumb (who is also featured in this film), Friedman’s craft is the product of obsession. But this is not Terry Swigoff’s Crumb, nor did Friedman suffer the slings and arrows of a turbulent and abusive upbringing as Crumb was exposed to. In fact, for Drew, things were quite the opposite. Nothing fuels the confidence of an aspiring artist like encouragement.

Though Friedman himself walks us through the trajectory of his life, we hear from family, friends, and fans. Friedman’s father, screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, and the late, great Gilbert Gottfried are all on hand to remark on the impact of Friedman’s work, both in the art world and how it reflects on it personally.

“Beginning to draw obsessively at an early age, everyone realized little Friedman was more than likely gonna wind up an artist.”

Drew Friedman: Vermeer of the Borscht Belt gifts us, the audience, the opportunity to sit by Friedman in his studio. See early rough sketches, which, like most artists, Friedman has carefully kept. We hear the breakdown of concepts that led to poster art designs, comic panels, and commercial art concepts. Because when you’re in demand, everybody wants the magic you bring. This, we find, led to Friedman’s own personal style evolution. For as the work increased, certain methods that had made his work so attractive would later turn out to become a hindrance, especially when it came to keeping up with deadlines.

Yes, this is yet another great film about an artist I admire. Similar in tone and even featuring some of the same talking heads as Susan Stern’s beautiful picture, Bad Attitude: The Art of Spain Rodriguez, Drew Friedman: Vermeer of the Borscht Belt delivers equal parts process, appreciation, and exploration to please fans, whilst also proving a handy primer for those unfamiliar with Drew’s work.

Although Dougherty’s film is relatively short in running length, what it lacks in scope it makes up for with intimacy, the distillation of an artist and his work by his ultimate critic, himself. This picture made me seek my Friedman books, flipping through page after page of exceptionally constructed, classy caricatures of some faces you remember, and possibly a lot more you don’t.

Drew Friedman: Vermeer of the Borscht Belt is a brief yet bountiful biography of a unique talent that achieved icon status, primarily because of the obscure nature of Friedman’s desired subject matter. It is ironic, then, that Alexander and Karaszewski, writers dedicated to presenting the stories of terrible filmmakers and unfunny comedians, are among those singing the eternal praises of a master of portraits who liked to draw not-so-famous people.