Jason says: "Herbert and Dorothy Vogel are a treasure, and most people will likely decide that's the case just from hearing about the couple, without the need for a movie to convince them.  They're a working-class couple that managed to become a fixture in the New York City art scene and amass a staggering collection, and as such it's very easy to fall in love with just the idea of them.  It's nice that Megumi Sasaki's film assures us that the reality is as charming as the legend.

"Herb and Dorothy Vogel met in 1960; he was a postal worker who had dropped out of high school, she a librarian who had moved to the city from Elmira.  They fell in love and were married a year later, and while Herb had never hidden his interest in art, it wasn't until they went to the National Gallery on their honeymoon that Dorothy saw the full extent of his enthusiasm.  She came to share it, and soon they were taking classes together.  Creating art wasn't their thing, but they loved being around art and artists, and in 1965 they bought their first Sol Lewitt piece.  Others followed, mostly minimal and conceptual; their only rules were that the art had to be affordable and had to fit in their apartment.

"That apartment is a frightening wonder; it's not just crammed with art - and make no mistake, crammed is the right word.  Nearly every possible bit of surface area has something hanging on it, sometimes with a blanket over it to protect it from the elements, but there are boxes filling other spaces and art stacked under the bed.  There are also aquariums and terrariums for their fish and turtles, and cats as well.  By necessity or design, Sasaki makes it seem even more cramped, with many of the interviews with Herb and Dorothy conducted around their tiny kitchen table, which is really only big enough for one and also has the couple's television and internet appliance - it's as if the artwork is pushing their living space into that tiny area.

"That is, of course, a marked contrast to the home of Dorothy's sister and brother-in-law, who still live in Elmira.  They've got a wide-open living room with space between them, a fireplace, and a reproduction print on the wall, and though nice enough, they seem completely puzzled by the way Herb and Dorothy don't seem to have any interest in living 'like us.'  Even some of their artist friends seem confused when interviewed, although most speak of the couple with great affection, with stories of how they first met or how the Vogels, though only small buyers, were still important to them because they paid cash and stayed with an artist.  Of course, one art dealer does admit to slight annoyance at how the Vogels seem to be an exception to any exclusive contract he has with an artist.

"Much of the movie is artists talking about their friendship with the Vogels, and many have interesting stories, but it's seeing them in action that's much of the fun.  Artist Lucio Possi describes Herb as 'a pointer,' and we see that to be the case, with his head jutting forward and his hands quite ready to demonstrate exactly what he likes about some piece.  The Vogels are a filmmaker's dream, really:  Herb is short of stature but active, with a gravelly Brooklyn voice that he's not shy about piping in with; Dorothy is taller, always ready with a joke at Herb's or her own expense, always with the sense that though she's been around a while, she hasn't let the world pass her by.  Sasaki does a nice job in spotlighting her; Herb's the easy one to get a memorable scene from, and art is a passion that she got from him, but we're shown that other things, such as their fondness for the theater, originate from her.  That's a nice touch, making sure that we don't perceive them as a woman who has just indulged her husband for decades.

"This movie is about them as art collectors, though, and Sasaki does a nice job of showcasing it.  She shows a couple dozen of their thousands of pieces on the screen, and makes sure that folks like me who haven't given much thought to visual art outside of movies and comics for a long time are able to understand the difference between pop, minimal, and conceptual art without teaching a remedial class on it.  She spends the last chunk of the movie on the disposition of their collection - a topic that is by turns very funny and awe-inspiring, as we're amazed by the sheer size of the collection (and thus undertaking) and their generosity.

"It's during this section that a former director of the National Gallery points out that the easy message to take from the movie - that anybody could do what the Vogels did - isn't totally the case:  Herb may not be formally schooled, but he is extensively self-educated, and the pair are dedicated to a degree that few people manage for anything.  Still, even acknowledging that the pair are special, that basic idea isn't totally false; the Vogels are a reminder that art is for everybody, and you don't need money or a degree to develop and exercise an interest.

"That speaks to me, as a computer programmer who spends a lot of his extra time and money on foreign and independent films.  Dig deep enough, and it likely speaks to everybody; we're all fans of something.  Few of us can be Herb and Dorothy, but all of us can be inspired by them. 4 cats

"Seen 26 April 2009 at the Somerville Theater #4 (Independent Film Festival of Boston)"

"Before he was married, Herb used to hang out at the Cedar Tavern, a bar on University Place renowned as a watering hole where artists would argue, drink and fight.  Herb and Dorothy Vogel met in 1960 at a dance at the Statler Hilton across the street from Pennsylvania Station.  It seemed natural that the Vogels would honeymoon in Washington so they could go to the National Gallery.   As newlyweds Herb and Dorothy took art classes and soon their apartment walls were covered with their own paintings.  When they bought their first painting, one of theirs came off the wall.   Soon thereafter their artwork was stored away and art classes were part of the past; they had become collectors. 

"Many of the art works from their collection are examined by the camera so the viewer can understand what the 'Vogel fuss' is all about.  Interspersed with the story of the Vogels are many talking heads – artists, museum directors, and art historians.  Their opinions of the Vogels are remarkably consistent.  One artist says of Herb, 'He points at the art like a hound.' 

"The Vogels were and still are limited in income and space.  The rule was, 'if they couldn’t carry it or fit it into a taxi, they didn’t buy it.'  On a visit to one artist’s studio, the Vogels sweet talk the artist into selling an unfinished painting.  'It looks finished to me,'says Herb.  When it comes time to pay Herb tells the cameraman to make himself scarce, 'We don’t like the public knowing what we paid.'  Most artists give the Vogels liberal discounts knowing their funds are limited and very much aware of the prestige of being part of the Vogel collection.  Even artists that don’t do studio make an exception for the Vogels.  The Vogels were among the first to embrace conceptual art where, according to Herb, 'The idea behind the art is more important than the execution.'