In her gripping new film Dreams, Jessica Chastain pulls back the curtain on the unsavory underbelly of arts philanthropy among the ultra-wealthy. Playing a privileged San Francisco socialite named Jennifer McCarthy, Chastain’s character wields her family’s vast charitable foundation as a tool to subjugate and control the very artists it claims to support.
Jennifer’s toxic relationship with Fernando, a talented Mexican ballet dancer played by Isaac Hernández, serves as a disturbing case study in the imbalanced power dynamics between wealthy patrons and the artists who depend on their support to survive. After a brief fling in Mexico City, Jennifer lures Fernando across the border with the tacit promise of funding and connections, only to trap him in a demeaning dynamic where her support hinges on his submission to her whims.
The Steep Price of Patronage
As Fernando chafes against the chains of Jennifer’s patronage, Dreams director Michel Franco forces the audience to confront the steep hidden costs that often come with charitable support from the 1%. The film suggests that for the McCarthys and their ilk, philanthropy is just another self-serving tool to boost their egos and exert control.
At lavish galas and private events, the wealthy donors flaunt Fernando and the other struggling artists they support as glittering ornaments and status symbols, with little regard for their humanity or autonomy. In a telling scene, Jennifer reacts with fury when Fernando dares to converse with fellow Mexican immigrants in Spanish, a language she can’t understand or control.
Scathing Critique of Philanthropic Colonialism
At its core, Dreams offers a scathing critique of the colonialist mentality that often underpins arts philanthropy. The McCarthys and their wealthy friends see their Mexican beneficiaries as an underclass to be uplifted and civilized through the benevolent bestowal of their riches and refinement.
“In so far as they think about the art they subsidise, the McCarthy family solemnly believe that their Mexicans are artistic because they are alienated and poor, a picturesque underclass of talent on their doorstep – close and maybe too close.”
— Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian
But this paternalistic worldview leaves little room for the artists’ agency or self-determination. Fernando’s proud and prickly demeanor is an affront to Jennifer’s savior complex. She expects him to be endlessly grateful for her largesse, not a fully formed human with his own ambitions and desires.
When Charity Turns Toxic
As the power struggle between benefactor and beneficiary reaches a breaking point, Dreams forces us to grapple with the dark question at the heart of so much art philanthropy: to what extent is charitable giving a self-serving shield for the wealthy to launder their reputations and exert domination over those with less power and privilege?
- Ego inflation: For many rich donors, supporting the arts is more about basking in praise and prestige than actually nurturing creativity
- Virtue signaling: Philanthropy allows the wealthy to construct a public image of generosity and social conscience, even as they perpetuate the inequities at the root of the problems they claim to solve
- Imperious control: With money comes power, and mega-donors often use their financial leverage to dictate how arts organizations operate and what type of work they produce
In scene after revealing scene, Dreams chips away at the altruistic veneer of elite arts patronage to expose the self-interest and manipulation festering beneath. Chastain’s Jennifer is at once victim and villain, oppressed by her domineering father’s expectations even as she callously yanks Fernando’s strings.
A Plea for Reexamining Philanthropy
Ultimately, Franco’s film is a damning indictment of how the ultra-affluent weaponize charity to feed their egos, shape society in their image, and keep underprivileged artists under their thumbs. It’s a harsh wake-up call to reexamine the skewed power dynamics baked into so much modern philanthropy.
While Dreams paints a grim portrait of one toxic patronage relationship, it invites the audience to extrapolate further and consider the problematic nature of top-down arts funding as a whole. Are the supposed benevolence and social benefits worth perpetuating such an imbalanced and oppressive system? Or is it time to topple the masters’ house and rebuild from the ground up?
One thing’s for sure: Chastain and Franco have crafted a searingly provocative conversation starter. Dreams may be a work of fiction, but the uncomfortable truths it lays bare will haunt the real-world art establishment long after the credits roll.
