The Art of the Steal

Should the dying wishes of Dr. Albert D. Barnes--who assembled one of the greatest collections of paintings in modern history--be respected or ignored? Is it acceptable for the “established art world” that he openly despised to appropriate the work into their own museums? This is the fascinating premise of The Art of the Steal, a new documentary by Don Argott (Rock School), which expertly builds a case in defense of Dr. Barnes that is suspenseful, moving, and thoroughly thought-provoking.

The Art of the Steal begins with a speech made in 2007 by Philadelphia Mayor John Street. Speaking at a press conference, he makes fun of the fact that his city is taking the historic Barnes art collection from a small township named Lower Merion. But even as he gloats, things are not as cut-and-dried as they seem. Argott takes us back in time to piece together the events of the dramatic struggle for artwork valued by some at over $25 billion. It’s an unlikely story, filled with conflicting characters, cultural antagonism, and political intrigue.

In 1899, Dr. Barnes invented an antiseptic against venereal disease called Argyrol that made him a millionaire while still a young man. A passion for collecting post-modern and impressionist painting before they were on the radar of the major museums allowed him to amass one of the great art collections of the 20th century, including over 170 Renoirs –– more than in all the museums of France.  He also bought many masterpieces by Picasso, Cezanne, Rousseau, and important American painters as well.  But in 1923, at the first showing in Philadelphia, the collection was blasted by critics who called it “primitive,” and Barnes was personally attacked for his “poor taste and low standards." He never forgave the slight and created a unique and restrictive home for his art--transforming a stately small-town arboretum into an educational setting.   When the major museums finally caught up to his vision, they were furious that he would not share his art and worked for decades to get their hands on it.

The Art of the Steal is constructed to maximize suspense and mystery; it retraces historical events until they catch up with “the present," then follows the supporters of Barnes into the court battles that will decide the fate of his legacy. Like some of the best documentaries of 2009 (The Cove, Burma VJ, Crude), this film has a clear and uncompromising point of view. Experts from both sides of the debate are addressed, including two past mayors of Philadelphia (John Street, Edward G. Rendell), noted art dealers and museum directors (Richard L. Feigen, Tom L. Freudenheim, Dr. Colin B. Bailey), influential art critics (David D’Arcy, Christopher Knight), and even Richard H. Glanton, who became director of the Barnes Foundation and used his influence to help extract the artwork from the permanent home that Barnes created. Taking no prisoners, the film accuses the Pew Charitable Trust and the Annenberg Foundation, powerful nonprofit organizations, of being instrumental in the “theft” of the masterpieces in the Barnes collection. Not surprisingly, neither organization would respond to a request for interviews.

Argott does a great job of catching up to a story that he probably started filming late in the process. As in many documentaries that cover a long historical timespan, there is little cinema verité footage in the film. Ironically, one of the biggest “fly-on-the-wall” moments feels like a possible misstep. As people act out during a press conference at the proposed site of the new museum meant to house the Barnes collection, at least three of the most prominent interviewed supporters play a central role in the protest. One could take this as a show of solidarity --or (even fleetingly) question the independence of the interview subjects in the film. Despite appearing late in the film, the hand-held low-resolution quality of the footage makes it feel like it takes place before the interviews, and not after, which also doesn’t help in the construction of the story.

The Art of the Steal makes excellent use of the limited archival footage of Dr. Barnes and has a stylish eye for design. As the complexity of the story builds, Argott creates a rogue's gallery of headshots that allows him to review and update information--summing up the complex story in a useful way. Throughout he uses rare footage, historical photographs, newspaper headlines, and a recreation of the original will to keep the details clear. As one might expect from a director who is also a musician, the soundtrack is effective and entertaining--combining original compositions with classical blues and recognizable music by Philip Glass.

Although one believes that Argott will not be getting any grants from the Pew Charitable Trust or the Annenberg Foundation in the near future, he’s made a stand for integrity and justice in a commercialized society of art and politics. If Dr. Albert Barnes were alive today, he would surely recognize a kindred spirit.

                                    Thomas W. Campbell