The Art of the Steal

MOVIE DETAILS

Rating: 6.3 out of 10
Director: Jonathan Sobol
Writer: Jonathan Sobol
Star: Kurt Russell, Jay Baruchel, Katheryn Winnick
Genres: Comedy/Crime/Thriller
Release Date: June 18, 2014 (Germany)

There are only a few actors working today that can save a film with their presence alone. Kurt Russell has always been at the top of that list for me. What a career. What a niche he’s carved for himself. He brings something so uniquely him to everything he does he can be your leading man, your comedic buffoon, your physical actor; hell, he can even mimic (see: Elvis Presley and Herb Brooks). His last major role was the ludicrously enjoyable Stuntman Mike in Quentin Tarantino’s 2007 “Death Proof,” which means it’s been much too long since we’ve seen him around. Well, now he’s back. Bruised and black-leather-clad, as “Crunch Calhoun” in Jonathan Sobol’s fun and stylish art-heist flick “The Art of the Steal.” The movie looks like a crime thriller (and there are certainly elements of that), but it is absolutely a comedy each actor has clicked into his respective role with such gusto and enjoyment that it really comes through on screen.

Part art thief/part Evel Knievel, Crunch Calhoun is the leader of an international merry band of art forgers who have nick-names like “The Rolodex,” “The Scratcher,” “The Idea Man.” Sobol freezes each member of the team, rolling out their names and nicknames in big blocky text, creating a snarky larger-than-life environment in which these eccentrics can operate. There’s Chris Diamantopoulos as Guy the brilliant French forger whose work can ape even proper carbon-dating; who dreams not just of being notorious but “celebrated” like Yves Chaudron; Kenneth Welsh as Uncle Paddy the randy Irishman who can find buyers for any fakes produced by Guy; and finally there’s the hot-headed/sloppy Nicky half-brother to Crunch, played by Matt Dillon who comes up with the idea for the grand “final score” on which they could all retire.

When we meet him, Crunch has just been released from a 5-and-a-1/2 year stint in a Warsaw prison. Nicky handed him up as the fall guy for an art heist gone wrong. So now he jumps his motorcycle through rings of fire at car derbies (all while wearing a white jumpsuit studded with blue stars), making $100 a stunt. He’s got an apprentice named Francie (the terrific Jay Baruchel), a sweet wife named Lola (Katheryn Winnick), and this deep burning hatred of the brother who betrayed him. He doesn’t want anything to do with any new scheme he’s out, he’s done. But in his spare time, he sits in his La-Z-Boy reading books on great art thefts, and lecturing Francie on how various Roman Emperors handled life’s problems. Crunch Calhoun’s not going to be able to stay straight for very long.

The film jumps from Detroit to Quebec to Amsterdam, Paris and London. Thieves are always stopped at the various borders. An Interpol agent (Jason Jones) partners with an art-thief-turned informant (Terence Stamp), who plays his role in a mild-mannered abstracted way that highlights the frustrated machismo of the Interpol agent, who crushes cups of hot coffee in his bare hands, and then says “Ow.” There is also a dreamy-eyed monologue by Stamp about going to the Victoria and Albert museum as a child, and seeing a cup made entirely of jade: “It made me look at everything differently.” The whole movie stops, surprisingly beautifully, for his long monologue about what art means to him. A lesser director would have cut that monologue as an irrelevant time-waster. But Sobol (who also wrote the script) not only gives that monologue a great payoff near the end of the film, but he also knows that the plot is not really “the thing” here, anyway. What is “the thing” is the performances, the actors, shtick.

There’s funny bits of farcical physical business (there’s one involving duct tape on a face that’s particularly good), there’s wisecracks (“Interpol’s a real thing??”), there’s people racing around like maniacs because they feel trapped. Francie can’t believe what level of crime he has gotten himself into; while trying to drive two criminals across the Canadian border in his trunk he glues a long beard to his chin and behaves totally suspiciously when being questioned by border patrol, finally babbling “I’m in a play,” etc., silliness like that keeps Art of the Steal aloft; I wish more movies felt permission to be as silly as this one does; Everybody is great; everybody looks like they’re having a blast; right mood is set early on, insouciant, self-aware, absurd; Also, the movie’s only 90 minutes long. It never takes itself too seriously, or seriously at all. The film feels light, but that is not a criticism, at least not in the case of Art of the Steal. It’s why the movie works.

As it moves into its third act where traditionally plot with a capital P takes over Art of the Steal knows that what interests us is these characters and these actors and their behavior and their interactions. The plot is certainly given its due; there are double-crosses upon double-crosses until it seems like the whole thing is just one big triple-cross after another; each heist that unfolds is more complex and insane than the last one (one involves a museum falling onto a bank), etc., But it’s wonderful to see such a strong interest in character kept up by a genre movie right up until the satisfying final frame. Kurt Russell could read the phone book and I’d pay to see it. It’s great to have him back.

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