Eva Hesse, circa 1963 (Barbara Brown)

Painter and sculptor Eva Hesse (1936-1970) was boundlessly creative and an inspiration for generations of artists, but his new film about the artist is pretty much par the course for biography docs. Director Marcie Begleiter brings nothing new to the table. It seems especially disappointing when representing an artist who not only brought new things to the table but built her own table out of fiberglass.

Born in Germany in the mid-1930s, she and her family fled to America when she was a little girl to avoid Nazi persecution. Before she turned 10 years old, her parents had divorced and her mother had committed suicide. Starting in drawing and painting, Hesse was surreal without being obtuse. Her use of color is immediately striking and feels modern even to this day. When she began working in sculpture, she truly broke ground. If her paintings were dream images, her sculptures were like dreams coming to life. A lot of critics and historians view her work through the biographical prism. However, one could see her sculptures and know nothing of Hesse’s life and still be moved by them. They feel eerie, vaguely erotic, and tactile.

Begetter, though, mistakes illustration for dynamism. Everything the interviewed group of friends says is aided by stock footage that leaves little to the imagination. Some of the most obvious hand holding examples are near the beginning. Have you heard that the 1960’s were a time of change and great art? Well, here’s footage of Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. When Hesse’s husband, sculptor Tom Doyle, talks of converting to Judaism in order to marry her, traditional Jewish music plays in the background.

The talking heads don’t go much beyond hagiography or give much insight into the inner life of Hesse that we haven’t heard previously from her journals, which are occasionally read by Selma Blair with the feeling of a book-on-tape. One moment of spontaneity that slips through is in the form of an older married artist couple. In the middle of a conversation about what a haven for materials Canal Street used to be, Sylvia Plimack Mangold favorably compares Home Depot as the modern-day equivalent. Her husband, Robert Mangold, clearly annoyed that his wife is plugging a corporate chain, grits his teeth and lightly chastises her. It’s like a breath of fresh air.

The most enlightening interview comes from Doug Johns, Hesse’s studio assistant. Johns is able to give a thorough step-by-step look into the process and craft that came into making Hesse’s beguiling and surreal sculptures. These descriptions are noteworthy because they are specific only to the subject at hand. The movie focuses largely on the biographical elements. More insight into the process would have been more illuminating.

As an introduction for viewers who know little of Hesse, it succeeds. They will certainly get a broad understanding of her life and work, as well as the 1960s art scene.