Netflix doc pulls back curtain on business behind beloved painter
Bob Ross died in 1995, which means there haven’t been new episodes of his show, “The Joy of Painting,” in more than 25 years. And yet his celebrity might be bigger than ever. So, who profits if you plunk down money on Bob Ross merchandise, be it paint supplies or kitschy items like cupcake wrappers? That would be Bob Ross Inc., a corporate entity that has no connections with (or obligations to) Ross’ surviving son, Steve. Whether that’s a fair turn of events is a central question of the Netflix documentary “Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal and Greed.”
But the movie, which is directed by Joshua Rofe and includes Melissa Mccarthy and husband
Ben Falcone as producers, is hamstrung by a reluctance of key players to go on the record. “More than a dozen people who knew and worked with Bob declined to participate in this film due to concerns of legal retaliation,” the film reveals. This results in a muddled story that lacks a clear throughline. The documentary is strongest when it simply lets Steve — who resembles his father, minus the poof of hair — sift through his memories. There’s a lot of regret and melancholy there. Admiration too. And legitimate anger at how the Ross name itself is no longer his own. It’s a messy and complicated story.
Annette and Walter Kowalski were Bob’s business partners who provided the initial investment that funded his work as a traveling art instructor. That eventually led to the launch of the TV show on public television in 1983, but the show brought in zero money. “People see
you on television, and they think you made the same amount of money that Clint Eastwood does,” Bob said in a 1990 interview. “But this is PBS. All these shows are done for free.”
His and the Kowalski’s income came from the corporation itself: the instructional books, the videotapes, the paint and art supplies and the classes. It was a fairly profitable setup. Bob’s wife, Jane, died in 1992. He was diagnosed with lymphoma not long after. This is when, according to the film, the Kowalskis sought to have Bob sign over the rights to his name and likeness, which he resisted. The film explains how, years after his death, that issue was ultimately resolved.
Steve was old enough to see the relationship between his father and the Kowalskis fracture. “I’ve been wanting to get this story out for all these years,” he tells the filmmakers. “What they did was shameful. And people should know that.”
The film certainly raises questions about their moral character, though it’s all
through secondary sources; the Kowalskis declined to be interviewed.
Interestingly, Steve doesn’t seem particularly focused on the money. Not that it doesn’t sting; he clearly lives modestly while Bob Ross Inc. reaps in the profits. But that doesn’t seem to be the primary cause of the deep sadness and disgust that colors his hangdog mien. You sense there are maybe other questions behind his grief, questions about betrayal and basic human decency and why does it seem like bullies always win?
In Steve’s view, the company’s ethos — the Kowalski ethos — is a betrayal of what his father stood for.
But he adds: “Once I started to paint again, I realized I can take these emotions that I have and turn them into something. The Kowalskis made millions of dollars, I would say, from exploiting his name and image. But he brought so much happiness to people, and that’s what’s important.”
Where to watch: Netflix