A year ago when we visited Base Elements Gallery in Barcelona, the owner was hesitant to let me film some quick shots of Pez’s graffitied canvases. Now I understand why.

I just got out of Exit Through the Gift Shop - a Banksy film about Thierry Guetta’s rise from amateur filmmaker to Warhol-esque copycat art sensation. Essentially it’s the realization that if you’re even anecdotally related to artists like Banksy, Shepard Fairey and Dave Kinsey, you can pretty much dupe hipsters into buying your screen prints.

Jesus. It’s all pretty simple. If all you want to do is collect eyeballs and money, you simply placate the egos of those with influence, get them to talk about you and then emulate their style as best you can. Forget the concept of a magnum opus. If you don’t care about offering any value or insight to others and you just want to swim through money like Scrooge McDuck then let your minions stencil an eyepatch over someone else’s work. Or better yet, just retweet it and remove the attribution.

Maybe I’m too earnest about constructivism, but this movie made me depressed. There’s nothing wrong with producing a hackneyed piece of steaming crap if your intentions are good. It just seems callous when you reduce the value of works that do aim to move beyond the trivial.

I really do hope this film is a prankumentary like some writers suggest.