The story, a true one, falls into the category of “reality sometimes surpasses fiction.” In 2004, a painting by Egon Schiele, believed to have been destroyed by the Nazis some 60 years earlier, was discovered in Mulhouse, France, in the apartment recently acquired by a worker who was initially unaware of the work’s value. There would be an appraisal, discussions with the Austrian painter’s descendants, and negotiations. And Autumn Sun (Sunflowers) will be sold at auction in London in 2006 for 11.7 million pounds (20.7 million Canadian dollars).
Filmmaker Pascal Bonitzer (Nothing about Robert) has put all its know-how at the service of the extraordinary journey of these Sunflowers faded (incidentally inspired by those of Van Gogh) in the heart of the Stolen painting. While sticking to the facts, his feature film therefore casts a wider net than just the facts. To do this, the dialogues bite and the lines are heavy-handed. The words and situations are highlighted by a staging that is, after all, classic, “naturalistic”, with no soundtrack other than that of the background noises. The magnificent original music by Alexei Aigui serves as an entrance and exit to the scenes. And it’s perfect.
In such a stripped-down environment, a solid cast that could stand on its own was a must. It’s here. Alex Lutz (Vortex) is impeccable as André, a cynical auctioneer, a shark (of auction rooms) with a foxy ascendancy (in the face of “prey”). Léa Drucker (Up to the hilt) is all about finesse and double-dealing in the skin of Bertina, an expert at Scottie’s, André’s ex-wife with… let’s say, diversified interests. It’s an incredible scene to see them, to feel their condescension when they are invited to enter the modest house where the (perhaps) masterpiece is located.
Contrasting portrait
The contrast is only sharper when faced with the attitude of their counterparts, modest, kind, open, overwhelmed by the way things are going. They are Maître Egerman, the provincial lawyer accustomed to the complacency of people in the capital (Nora Hamzawi, perfect), and Martin, the young factory worker who lives with his mother, strums the guitar a little and, above all, is overwhelmed by the situation (Arcadi Radeff, fair and, with a simple glance, upsetting). And then there is Aurore, this strange beast that is André’s intern, a compulsive liar who, in the end, will make herself useful (Louise Chevillotte, disconcerting with each appearance).
They brilliantly carry a scenario in which a few surprises… smiling ones sneak into a scathing portrait of the art world. Of these auction rooms where theater rubs shoulders with calculation. Of the coldness that swarms under the varnish of shine of those who swim in this luxury fishbowl. It is also a question of prejudices, social inequalities. Of righteousness and morality. A nice variation of the human, in a Stolen painting which is truly worth its weight in gold — and art.