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Nelson is clearly interested in the dichotomy between Wright’s dysfunctional personality and his towering cultural legacy. How could such magnificent achievements as Chicago’s Robie House, Oak Park’s Unity Temple, and New York’s Guggenheim Museum have come from such a bitter, closed mind? Despite Peter Weller’s charismatic lead performance, the answer to Nelson’s question remains elusive in his generic, sometimes contrived “Portrait of the Artist as an Aging SOB.”
The only person Wright truly seems to care about is his mentor and friend, Louis Sullivan, who’s come to LA in hopes of finding work with Wright. The great architect is now a decrepit drunk, though he boasts, “My hands don’t shake when I draw.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Michael Brosilow.
