The Julian Sklar we encounter in The Christophers is an artist past his prime. He no longer paints, following a gimmicky stint as a judge on a reality TV art competition. His artworks once fetched millions at auction; his output now consists of Cameos he creates for his diehard fans. But hidden in his attic is a clutch of paintings from his legendary “Christophers” series that could change his fortunes—if he would only finish them.

Ian McKellen’s Julian, however, has no intention of exhuming those canvases. Instead, it’s his money-hungry children, Sallie and Barnaby (Jessica Gunning and James Corden), who are eager to profit from the sale of the completed Christophers. And since he won’t do the work, they hire art restorer Lori Butler (Michaela Coel) to surreptitiously finish the paintings in his style. Sounds like forgery? Not at all; according to Barnaby, it’s merely a “forging ahead” with the works.

This feint sets up the Steven Soderbergh film, leading into a shrewd unpacking of artistic authenticity and legacy, and the prickly yet ultimately warm relationship between an aging artist and his protégée. To gain access to the Christophers, Lori arrives at Julian’s London studio on the pretext of landing an assistant job, only for her sham to fall apart. The pair bicker and scrap—laying bare their generational and creative differences—before eventually bonding, as Lori discovers just why the Christophers remain incomplete.

The Christophers, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last year, hits theaters from April 10, preceded by a series of free programs in New York featuring its cast and other creatives. On April 9, a panel made up of Soderbergh, McKellen, Coel, and screenwriter Ed Solomon will discuss the film’s themes at Sotheby’s Breuer headquarters, while the following day will see McKellen and Solomon, as well as artists Ian Cheng, Jamian Juliano-Villani, and Martine Syms, at the WSA Building in FiDi for various conversations around art and the artist-assistant dynamic.

Poster for The Christophers (2025). Photo courtesy of Neon.

It’s a fitting introduction to a film finely steeped in the art world. Its genesis, Solomon revealed at a screening at New York’s Lincoln Center, was his desire to explore the highs and lows of a mentor-mentee relationship, but “with a Patricia Highsmith bent.” To nail the character of Julian and his milieu, he looked to London-based artists such as Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon, and consulted with dealer George Barker of Gazelli Art House, and Pop artists Jann Haworth and Derek Boshier (Solomon’s mother is also an artist).

Still, he added, “I did not want to get too research-laden, because I think that can become a trap. Unlike anything else I’ve written, I wrote this fairly quickly, letting the characters surprise each other, themselves, and me in the process.”

Creating the Christophers

Drawing out Julian Sklar also meant constructing his oeuvre. But, Solomon noted, the team made it a point not to show too much of his art, lest it became “specific.” What is primarily seen, of course, are the Christophers, which were created by the film’s production designer Antonia Lowe and painter Barnaby Gorton.

The eight incomplete works are portraits of a young man, the titular Christopher, his features variously sketched out against tanned backdrops. In one, he faces the viewer straight on with an unwavering gaze; in another is his side profile, depicted with some delicacy. A Polaroid image of Christopher is tacked to the corner of each canvas.

“The decision was not to include any background,” Lowe told me about the works. “It was to be quite plain, so that the full focus would be on the face rather than anything else to get that sense of intimacy.”

Ian McKellen in The Christophers (2025). Photo: Claudette Barius, courtesy of Neon.

Gorton produced 16 Christophers based on the Polaroid photographs. Some were sparer than others, but all were done at a quick clip, he told me over a video call. “When you have to do stuff at speed, you’re not caught up in the detail in the same way if you’re doing a tight painting,” he explained.

The painter also instructed Coel on what he called “the physical side of being an artist” such as stretching canvases and placing the brush, as Lori worked on the Christophers. At one point, when Julian and Lori decide to finish a Christopher poorly in order to mess with his children, they do so by splashing paint, throwing glitter, and tossing feathers onto the painting—gestures that Gorton had to replicate on canvas to “recreate that energy” (this final work, in Julian’s assessment, is better than “all of Warhol”).

“All the elements that you have to draw on to create this finished piece have to work on many levels,” Lowe said. “It’s got to work for the action, it’s got to work for the story, it’s got to work for the character.”

Assembling the Artist’s Studio

Also working for Julian’s character are his home and studio, where the bulk of the film takes place. The set took up two conjoined townhouses in London, which the production team filled with framed photos, canvases, sculptures, and countless knick-knacks. The artist’s studio is paint-splattered, cluttered with art-making equipment and detritus, and anchored by a well-used Victorian easel loaned to the production by Gorton. Palettes around the space echo the colors used in the Christopher paintings.

Michaela Coel in The Christophers (2025). Photo: Claudette Barius, courtesy of Neon.

For reference, the team had access to British painter David Renfry’s studio, where Lowe noted details from his boxes of slides and little sketches to his coffee machine. The disorder of Julian’s studio, then, wasn’t for “set design beauty, but the reality” of an artist’s work space, she said.

Lowe was also drawing from her own experience of growing up with parents who were artists; reading the screenplay, she thought, “I know this world.” So does Gorton, who had high praise for the design of Julian’s work space. “The whole studio, from an artist’s point of view,” he said, “it looked like, ‘Yeah, I’m home.’”

Contrasting Canvases

There’s more than one artist in The Christophers: Lori has her own quiet painting practice. While an air of melancholy hangs over Julian’s unfinished paintings, her works offer a light, vivid counterpoint. Throughout her studio are adorned figurative paintings that were intentionally made to feel different from her mentor’s. 

“We wanted it to feel more colorful, more joyful,” Lowe said. “With Julian’s work, there’s this sense of loss in a way—something has stopped him from continuing the work that he was doing. Lori’s paintings counteract that.”

Paintings by Iona Saunders stood in for Lori’s creations—including an abstract, pastel landscape, known as Untitled #7 in the film, which proves pivotal in Julian and Lori’s relationship. (A final portrait, revealed at the film’s conclusion, was created by Sarah Bell.)

Jessica Gunning and James Corden in The Christophers (2025). Photo: Claudette Barius, courtesy of Neon.

Finally, it would be remiss to omit the film’s other artist… of a sort. Sallie, Julian’s daughter who attended art school with Lori, was actually the first person to attempt completing a Christopher. Her effort, though, produced a clumsy portrait, painted with flat colors and even flatter emotion. It’s so asinine that it winds up the film’s punchline the moment Julian jokingly hauls it out of storage. 

Gorton is behind this comedic masterpiece, for which he looked to—what else—the notorious botched restoration of Ecce Homo in Spain, also known as “Beast Jesus.” According to Lowe, Gorton nailed the tone of the work immediately, balancing an amateur’s earnestness with sheer absurdity.

“It was funny, because it’s hard to paint badly,” Gorton said. “When you’re doing something like that, it’s often luck, because you’re not controlling it. You’ve got to just let it be.”

“It was a slam dunk, that one,” Lowe added. “I sent it to Steven, and he was like, ‘Yes!’”

The Christophers opens in New York and Los Angeles on April 10, and nationwide on April 17.