Artist Hilma af Klint drew on the mighty forces of the universe to paint huge, dizzying canvases, works of art now celebrated 100 years later in a posthumous discovery. Halina Dyrschka’s documentary celebrates the paintings and shines a light on the overlooked creator. More style, energy, and invention would have better reflected this profile, but Beyond the Visible: Hilma af Klint makes a case for the painter’s genius and significance with an old-fashioned reverence, though taking thoroughly modern potshots at the art world along the way.

Born into an aristocratic Swedish family in 1862, af Klint showed early drawing talent and graduated from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, an uncommon feat for a woman at that time. Af Klint was drawn to the universalist and vaguely new-agey teachings of philosophers Madame Blavatsky and Rudolf Steiner. She also tuned into scientific discoveries, like the electromagnetic spectrum and radioactivity. These influences combined in an early phase of abstractionism that incorporated natural forms; technical, grid-like patterns; and symbolic color.

Af Klint churned out work in a flood of inspiration, with grand proportions to match; her canvases filled the Guggenheim Museum’s intimidatingly vast spaces at a popular exhibition in 2019 (an event not covered in the film, which documents an earlier reawakening in the painter). Of her work, af Klint wrote, “I was in contact with wider energies than me…the wondrous aspect behind every form.”

Filmmakers interview academics, art gallery worthies, and relatives to get a sense of af Klint’s life and her place in art history. Some make exaggerated claims for her reputation with comparisons to Leonardo da Vinci and other luminaries, but in a rather staid documentary, the interviews provide an expected surge of energy as anger arises at the art world: its sexism, snobbery, and provincial narrowness.

Scholars take offense at af Klint’s exclusion from abstraction’s storied circle of (male) pioneers, such as Wassily Kandinsky and Piet Mondrian. Others question why women artists’ careers languish behind men’s even now, while women have more access to arts education than ever before. “Art history is a man’s suit,” declares collector Valeria Napoleone in a sharp, pithy aperçu.

As it highlights af Klint’s belatedly appreciated achievements, the film achieves quiet poetry with shots of light glinting on water and the glory of a northern sunset. Subdued moments like these convey the patterns of the world around us—the kinetic, vast structures that obsessed Hilma af Klint and informed her work. It’s as fitting a homage to the artist as any scholarly tribute, however apt.