Lo, Frederick Wiseman unfurls before us an empire of brushstrokes and gilded frames, a journey through the National Gallery that hums with the quiet pulse of creation, preservation, and decay. Yet, as all empires of art and intellect are wont to do, it sprawls without end, leaving the curious traveler both awed and adrift in its intricate corridors.

Within this labyrinth, curators and restorers move as high priests, tending to canvases as if tending to altars, bringing to life ancient kings, supplicants, and saints. Here, every gesture of brush against canvas, every whispered lecture to the curious crowds, is a ritual—each meant to suspend Time itself. The film immerses us in these small wonders, as if inviting us to wander Wiseman’s garden of marvels, where no grand thesis looms, but where moments unfold as petals unfurl under morning light.

Yet, like a sprawling palace of endless halls, it is as much a burden as it is a gift. At times, the documentary drowns itself in excess. What begins as a reverent exploration of art becomes a test of patience, the pacing languid as if it were a dream on the edge of dissolving. With neither guide nor final destination, we drift from lecture to lecture, and restoration to debate, longing for a narrative thread—some map—that might help us grasp the vastness of what Wiseman seeks to convey. His gaze is deliberate, perhaps too deliberate, and the gods of rhythm seem unwilling to bless this expedition.

The halls of this gallery are not without beauty, and those attuned to the subtleties of time's slow erosion will find meaning aplenty. But for many wanderers, this will feel more like a meditation that refuses to end. One must be prepared to embrace the tedium as one embraces the silence of an ancient ruin—without promise of revelation, only the slow accumulation of dust and wonder.

Thus, National Gallery stands as a monument to something elusive: the rituals surrounding art, and the lives sustained by it. But, like an endless palace tour, its weight bears heavily on the traveler. It is a film for those content to wander without urgency, but it risks leaving others lost—unable to distinguish between a sacred stillness and an endless desert.

6 out of 10: a stately edifice that whispers in beauty but asks too much of those unprepared for its labyrinthine ways.