Hollywood and Museums: Perspectives on the Real and the Fake from Maine

Pretty Little Liars - books gone Hollywood

Last week I did the unthinkable. I left Maine in the summer, traveled to California, and among other things, took a tour of the Warner Brothers Studio in Hollywood. Along with 15 other tourists, I visited street sets and sound studios and kept a sharp eye out for George Clooney. As we pulled up to the faux front of "Rosewood High School," the teens on the tour squealed, abandoned the tour guide, and snapped photos of themselves in what was apparently a set for Pretty Little Liars. Ugh. Skeptical of the redeeming value of this and other TV shows, I rolled my eyes and hung out with our knowledgeable guide, Max, while we practiced patience. He pointed out that the "Rosewood High" building consisted of three facades in one, that is, each of the three sides of the building presented a unique backdrop for the camera - a high school, a city hall, and a church.

Trompe l'oeil ceilings of Victoria Mansion (J. Clark)

This is where it occurred to me that Hollywood was adapting a long thespian tradition: Trompe l'oeil or trick of the eye.  Often the term refers to a style of painting that creates an optical illusion, changing a flat, two-dimensional surface into what appears to be a three-dimensional structure or object. Warner Brothers deployed trompe l'oeil to transform towering, featureless plywood into a faux bank, for example, boasting a classical facade replete with portico and columns.

By the way, if you're curious, Maine boasts some precious examples of tromp l'oeil, such as the ceilings of the stunning Victoria Mansion in Portland (see left).

Warner Bros. Property Department Storage

Our next stop was Warner Brothers' Property Department (right). I entered the building thinking it would be nothing more than a prop warehouse. I left it provoked to think further about the boundaries between "real" and "reproduction," "authentic" and "fake."

As soon as I crossed the threshold, the cultural-historian-geek took over.

Enormous rooms stretched before us, filled with shelving that any museum would envy for its collections storage. Telephones and lamps neatly occupied their assigned spaces. I undoubtedly embarrassed my teenage daughter more than I already had that day when I snapped photo after photo of the collections whose items spanned more than a century. As Max pointed out, once you repaint a room on a set, all you need to do is swap out its "accessories" a 19th century room becomes a mid 20th century one. That's what props do, right? But, wait, were they "just props"?

As Max led us further into the Property Department, massive furniture, paintings, and statues crowded the hallways - looking like antique furniture worthy of any museum collection (with the exception of the vampire paintings).

"Max? Is this stuff real?"

Max points out bar code object registration

"Correct. Warner Brothers traveled to Europe after World War II and, taking advantage of cash-poor dynasties, purchased thrones, torchieres, everything." Hmm, a number of horror stories about Holocaust-era cultural treasures came to mind.

"So how can you tell what's authentic and what's fake?" I asked him.

Max pointed at what looked like an Egyptian stone carving, lifted it more easily than one could if it were stone, and showed me the bar code registration underneath (above). This bar code linked the item back to its object record which, in this case, would say that this was a fake, I mean, a reproduction.

Some warn that exhibit designers and financial-solvency concerns are "Disneyfying" museums, dragging admittedly staid institutions to incorporate interactive exhibit designs, hands-on reproductions, and touchscreens to compete with other media for the public's attention.

Entertain. Learn. Discover. Museums and Hollywood each have their own domain - no question about it - but the intellectual traffic between them is fast and furious.