Famous art collection stars in detective-style documentary

Once described by Henri Matisse as “the only sane place to see art in America,” the Barnes Foundation stands as a cultural underdog, threatened by an aggressive attempt at commercialization.

“The Art of the Steal,” a documentary opening this weekend at IFC Center, uncovers the gradual, unsettling transformation of art into commodity as the foundation’s $25 billion collection is embroiled in a fifty-year struggle for control.

The film begins its investigation with the suburban gallery’s controversial move to Philadelphia and a detailed characterization of the collection’s founder, Albert Barnes. “Something that was important to us when we started doing this was to bring Dr. Barnes back to life, to make him a character,” producer Sheena M. Joyce explained in an interview. “He’s very easily forgotten in all of this.”

Barnes, who died in 1951 after stipulating in his will that his collection was never to be removed from its walls, is certainly not “forgotten” here—through statements from friends and students, Barnes enters the film as a kind of ideological protagonist, never quite present on-screen but always standing in quiet opposition to the mainstream art world that despised him.

The film traces the history of a violated legacy through the lens of a classic detective story, building tension and revealing insight with the structure and style of a crime procedural. Time-lapse imagery of Philadelphia architecture reflects the way villains seem to emerge from the sped-up narrative, as the film arranges an excavation of crimes forgotten with the passage of time.

Director Don Argott explained that while the filmmakers borrowed cues from other genres of film in “making it kind of feel like a ‘crime-thriller,’” this dramatic narrative was basically inherent in the story itself. “Our heist vibe of one-thing-leading-to-another, villains conspiring to take this art—I mean it’s all there,” Argott said.

As the gallery’s transformation into a “Disney World of art” begins to appear unstoppable, reality sets in, and the inflated conflict of the film’s first half gives way to a sense of personal disillusionment and frustration. Capturing a quiet moment of defeat, Argott’s camera frames a billboard at the construction site—an advertisement of the inside of the gallery—against a foreground of passing cars, exposing the collection in a single unsettling shot. Here, Argott refuses to directly push a message on his viewer, choosing to provoke rather than instruct. “The purpose of the movie is not for us to be the big activists out in front saying this is what we should do next.,” he said.

Argott emphasized that the film does not intend an “anti-art museum” stance. At the same time, though, he expressed a clear, personal frustration with “blockbuster” art exhibitions. At other galleries, Argott said, “you’re fucking herded in like cattle … you go into Barnes and it’s totally different. It’s about relaxing, it’s about soaking in the art if you want to.”

Just as Argott’s distanced perspective seemed to give way to sincere disgust, the film—to its own advantage—is only partially detached from the controversy. By conveying a powerful sense of loss and violation, “The Art of the Steal” forces the viewer to confront an uncertain cultural future that, as Argott puts it, “nobody knows, because nobody’s asking the questions.”