In a real-life occurrence so serendipitous that it feels almost scripted, the perpetrator and the victim of an art crime become unexpected friends. In 2015, the Czech artist Barbora Kysilkova learned that two of her most prized paintings had been stolen from a gallery in Oslo, where she lives. Surveillance footage led to arrests and a trial. In court, Kysilkova asked the ringleader, Karl-Bertil Nordland, to sit for a portrait; he agreed.
The director Benjamin Ree was searching for a story on art theft when he stumbled on Kysilkova and Nordland during the early stages of their relationship. He intertwines both painter and thief in compelling fashion, humanizing the latter without patronizing him. The film’s more intentionally dramatic sequences (like Kysilkova and Nordland looking each other up on Facebook, set to an eerie score, as if they’re in a stalker thriller) are unnecessary because of the stranger-than-fiction nature of the story. But the film resonates most deeply during its raw, vulnerable scenes: when Nordland first sees his portrait and weeps, or when he succumbs to addiction.
You might question how much the subjects are performing in the presence of a camera. Certainly the film has its contrived moments, but a scene of confrontation between Kysilkova and her husband scratches at the painter’s own past, making her connection with Nordland feel simultaneously genuine and more troubling (they share a self-destructive streak). The friendship may initially seem preposterous, but the more time you spend with the pair, the clearer their mutual attraction becomes.
The Painter and the Thief
Not rated. In English and Norwegian, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. Rent or buy on Amazon, Apple TV, Google Play, and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators, or stream on Hulu.
Source: Movies - nytimes.com
