Original subtitles

The stolen painting by Rembrandt van Rijn,

newly discovered only last week, continues to elude police.

A massive manhunt has been mounted for the murderer of noted

Japanese art collector Tumado Agachi.

Police have issued warnings to be on the lookout for an American,

Harry Donovan, believed to be the chief suspect in the case.

According to Chief Inspector Deeks of the Metropolitan police,

Mr. Donovan is said to have seized

the painting in an argument with Mr. Agachi, who was then shot

and killed as Mr. Donovan escaped with the priceless work of art.

Highland, mid-20th century, permanent collection, Koonst Haus, Munich.

Study of Aileen, mid-19th century,

permanent collection, Cambridge Institute of Fine Arts.

The Flowered Mine, privately owned, on permanent loan

to the Bergen National Gallery. Boulevard of Peasants, late 19th century.

-And, uh, The Ice Cream Man. -Yes, yes, that's great. Thank you, John.

I think we've seen enough.

So, every single one of these copies

-were done by the same man. -No. Excuse me. They're not copies.

They're all quite original but they are all fakes.

-Ah, remarkable. -And all painted by the same man.

Harry Donovan.

-Why haven't we heard of him before? -Because he's clever.

He doesn't do big names like Leonardo or Van Gogh.

It's always third or fourth tier names that don't attract attention.

He flies under the radar.

Well... he's amazing.

Well, you asked for the best and he's considered

-to be the best in the world. -Which leaves just one final question.

Where do we find him?

Hey, enjoy yourself.

Darling, you've made it.

And you promise to buy some paintings,

-okay? -All right.

Joy, nice to see you. You're looking well. You're looking great.

-Harry, what are you doing here?

-I got something for you. -You're kidding.

-Why would I kid you? -No... no, I mean it's... it's marvelous.

Uh, look, uh, I've got a gallery full of people, uh.

-Is there any way we can do this tomorrow? -No. I'm busy tomorrow.

You want this or not?

Yeah, okay.

It's beautiful.

-Exquisite. -Yeah.

You know, Harry, your fakes are always better, aren't they?

-Maybe that's part of your problem. -No.

-Part of my problem is I like my money.

-Here. Maybe you want to count it. -No. I trust you.

Hey, could you do another one for me?

-Harry? -No.

Why?

Cause I'm doing my own stuff...

-and because you lied. -What?

You lied.

-We said 3,500. -No, you said 3,500. I said 4,000,

And since I know you're gonna turn it for 90.

Hey, look-- Hey, look, uh, wait. Wait. Okay, here.

Okay?

Hey, if you have anything else, call me, okay?

Hey, Picasso... where's my rent?

-Oh, live it up, Trump. Is that it? -Yeah.

-You're late. -Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm gonna have to bill you for the hour I've been waiting.

I'll give you 50 for the wait.

Are you ready?

Oh, forget it.

-What? -I'm finished.

We haven't even started.

Do you want to work later?

Please leave.

Harry Donovan, I presume.

We deal primarily in 20th century artists.

Now, one of our clients, a private collector from Korea--

Hey. Not very polite.

From Korea, recently made a number of purchases from us.

-They were minor works by modern masters. -So, what?

So, my client's retained me to find an important work by an old master.

Well, is there any other kind?

As you can imagine, there's very little available to buy.

Most old masters are locked away

in the permanent collections of a few museums.

Well, you got a big problem there. Good luck to you and good-bye.

We're here because we want the best.

And we're prepared to pay for it.

-Fifty-thousand dollars, U.S. -You speak English?

-Against 500,000 on delivery. -Five-hundred-thousand dollars for what?

Mr. Donovan... I want you to paint me a Rembrandt.

But only Rembrandt can paint Rembrandt.

Yes, well, under the circumstances, can you help me?

-No. -Why not?

Because with modern testing it's almost impossible. That and... Hey!

I'm not a shoemaker. I don't deal with slobs off the street.

I work with people that I know. You can leave now.

-It's a circular problem. -Now, do I have to knock your ass

down the stairs?

No, no... no. Gentlemen.

Um, we'll be staying at the Carlyle until Sunday.

-Think it over. -Watch your fingers.

Never heard of them. It's an Alistair Davies, an Iain Ill.

La Salle gallery.

They... they're big art dealers. You're in some pretty fancy company.

Well, they want me for a job.

Rembrandt.

Oh. Rembrandt, huh?

-I'm moving up in the world. -Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Think I shouldn't do it?

It's not a question of shouldn't.

The question is that you promised me you were gonna get rid

of this forgery shit. That's the point.

Yeah, well, these guys are real art lovers and 500,000 is a nice round number,

sol...

Can I ask you a question?

What about your own show? Remember that?

"My own show."

What the hell do you want?

I'd like to see an original Harry Donovan hanging in the Prado, one day.

Oh, shit. Not in your lifetime.

But yet I can sit down for Christ sakes. I'm not a child.

Ah, now...

the... the Prado, in my opinion is maybe...

the greatest art gallery in the world.

All the world goes to Madrid to see the Prado and the only way

you're gonna hang in that place is if you're dead.

I mean, Rembrandt even had to be dead.

Then, I'll have to settle for five days on the beach in Puerto Rico.

What would you do with a half million dollars, dad?

That's not the point.

You don't think I can do it.

-No, no. That's not the point. -Five-hundred-thousand dollars

-is the point. -No, it isn't!

I'll tell you what the point is! Maybe it's my fault.

-Maybe I should have told you sooner. -Hey.

All right, what I'm trying to say is... I don't know.

The point is that Harry Donovan should have gone to Italy,

and he should have looked at Da Vinci. He should have looked at Lippi.

He should have looked at Caravaggio.

He should have looked at sculpture of Donatello.

He should have seen them. He should have done something, right?

You know why you don't? You don't have eyes.

Well, what's going on here, dad? Why are you beating me up?

I'm not beating you up.

I'm just trying to say that even Rembrandt had to study.

-Rembrandt never laid a foot in Italy. -Bullshit.

If there was a... an exhibition of one of the greats

within 100 miles of Amsterdam, Rembrandt was there.

-Well, I'm not Rembrandt, dad. -You're not even Harry Donovan.

-Then, you show me. -What?

I said, you teach me.

Why don't you take me to Italy? You show me all that stuff.

Christ, you're a better painter than I am.

-Oh, no, not anymore. -I get a car, we drive all around Italy.

We'll go to Venice, we'll go to Florence, we'll go to Rome.

Then Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Raphael, all of 'em.

And we'll stay in fancy fucking hotels, those paupers could never afford.

And that's how we do it. And we can do that now.

Dad.

Dad.

-Dad. -I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Here's the number of my account in Zurich.

When the first 50,000 clears, that's when I start.

Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry?

Not unless you know a Rembrandt that's getting restored

anywhere in the world.

One might imagine that-- that would be your job.

Didn't think so. From now on, don't call me. I'll call you.

The age of romanticism raised you to cult status.

The greatest genius ever to put brush to canvas, they called you.

But by the age of reason, they considered you an outcast, your promise unfulfilled.

Chiaroscuro. Light from the dark.

Delacroix said you were greater than Raphael.

Renoir said, "I sniff the gravy. He chews the meat."

And another Dutch painter who had died penniless said you left him staggering.

Vincent said you must have died several times to paint like that.

A case like this, there's only one way to move. Not to make up something new

but to discover something the experts are already expecting someday to discover.

Something recorded but lost.

His most moving paintings were self-portraits.

Like an autobiography, they tell a wordless story,

a story of genius and sorrow.

Now, one of Rembrandt's most famous sketches

is of an old man who appears to be blind.

It's been speculated he did it in preparation for a full oil portrait

and that portrait has never been found. It may not even exist.

But according to the inventory at his bankrupftcy,

Rembrandt sent 2 canvases to Spain by sea.

It's recorded only as a portrait of a man. No name.

We know the dimensions were 92 by 71 centimeters.

We know the price was 800 Dutch florins but the picture disappeared.

Maybe lost at sea, maybe stolen. No one knows.

The trail goes cold, and it's been cold now for 350 years.

Disappeared, how?

Who knows? Lost at sea, burned,

stolen by Napoleon's generals. Nobody knows.

-That's where the trail stops. -The trail stops where?

Somewhere off the Northern coast of Spain.

The only record we have is by Van Oilenberg,

who was the leading Dutch expert at the time.

He saw the painting before it left Holland.

Described it as the most moving portrait he had ever seen.

It's a blind man believed to have been Rembrandt's father.

The irony being stunning.

The master of light, son of a man who couldn't see.

-So...

I'm going to discover Rembrandt's greatest portrait.

And I'm gonna paint it.

-Excusez-moi.

-Ah.

-Oh, I'm sorry. Someone pushed me and I-- -It's okay.

-Oh! -Forget it. Forget it.

I needed some coffee. I was falling asleep.

-Well, I'll get you one. Please. -No, no, no, no, no.

-Oh.

-Please, are you sure? -Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh, uh, are you an artist?

Uh, no, I'm a student.

Ah, me too.

-How do you like the book? -l don't like books.

-Just look at the pictures? -Yeah, ever since I was a little boy.

All right. Should I tell you something funny about that book?

Well, there's nothing funny about a 900-page book.

-Quoi? -Any author that needs 900 pages

to get to their point shouldn't be allowed near a typewriter.

Well, then, maybe you shouldn't read it.

Yeah, well... I have to. Homework.

Well, study hard.

Thanks for that coffee.

Perfect.

-Excuse me. -Oui, monsieur.

-You speak English? -Yes, I do.

-This painting. -It was removed this morning.

-Why? -Restoration.

-Where is that? -On the mezzanine.

Yeah, uh, Tringham, see.

-Hmm? -I have to meet some people in there.

-I didn't really-- -No, it's impossible. No, no, no, no.

-Uh, they said that it was gonna be here.

They said it was gonna be-- Is there someone else here,

-I can talk to? -The supervisor. No, she's not here.

Look, I've come all the way

-from America, I have to see-- -You must go now or I--

-You have to go to... Bonjour, madame. -No, but I have to... Look.

-Hey, excuse me. Hi, hi.

Monsieur, monsieur, monsieur.

Uh, the cafe, right? Remember me from the cafe?

-Do me a favor? I gotta get into this room

-to see--

To see a painting that's being restored. I'm having a little trouble

-with my credentials. -Oh, come with me. I'll take you.

-Thank you. -You're welcome.

Uh, she said you were a professor.

-Harry. -Marieke.

-Hi. You on the staff here, Marieke? -No, no, a student. And you?

-I'm working on a book. -Oh, I thought you don't like books.

-I hate my work. -What's your book about?

-Dutch masters. -What aspect?

-Portraits. -Oh.

Has it been retouched?

No, no, it's still untouched.

What do you feel?

-About what? -The painting.

Um, it's not bad.

Not bad? Come on, professor. You can do better than that.

-What do you feel? -What I feel?

Um, it's one of the last great paintings by one of the last great painters.

Sold for 80 bucks, while he died broke, in debt, alone,

unrecognized, unable to even buy one of his own paintings. That's what I feel.

-What do you feel? -Marieke.

Excuse me.

-Harry. Harry.

Harry. Yeah.

-Come and have a drink with us. -Oh, no. I got... I...

Come on.

Ah.

Uh, you know, what Fromentin said to a class once?

He said that Rembrandt doesn't have anything

like the attraction of a Van Dyck, uh, Francia or even a Reubens.

You're right. At first sight, his work can be very displeasing.

I remember that just before he died, Fromentin,

you know what he said?

He said that Rembrandt has all the subtlety of a dull guillotine.

-Don't you agree, professor?

Actually, I always thought that Fromentin didn't know

what the fuck he was talking about.

I beg your pardon?

I just don't understand why you guys have to sit here

and piss on other people, let alone Rembrandt.

Professor Scheerding proved that the painting,

The Man with the Golden Helmet is just a cheap fake.

I'm sure you know that in 1930 there were over 800 supposed Rembrandts.

And now we're down to 241, thanks to you and your friends, and dropping,

so bully for you. Every school kid's favorite picture

is now junk cause some self-important windbag has said so.

The problem is, in ten years' time, there's not gonna be any Rembrandts,

just a big pile of theses.

-We have said something to offend you? -Me? I'm never offended by flatulence.

I just move away from its smell. Bye.

Excusez-moi.

An American asshole.

Bien. It must feel good to get rid of all that, huh?

-All that what? -Anger.

-I'm not angry. -Oh, just something out of your childhood?

-No, just some fun. -A rather sad way to have fun.

Now, is this why you followed me all the way out here,

-to tell me about my sad childhood? -No, but I wonder why you act like one.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

I'm sure you have better things to do with your time.

Such as?

Listen, it's not d--

Now, I'm hungry.

-Want to get something to eat?

Oh, bad. I forgot my keys again.

We might not get in my room if he doesn't wake up.

-Oh, oh!

-Oh!

Ah.

Hey.

-Where you going? -I have to go.

I'm so late.

-Are you married or something? -Married?

No.

No, but I have to be in Venice, like... this afternoon.

I hope you realize this is not my, um, nightly routine.

-I think, maybe you're teasing. -No, I'm not.

You, uh, wanna have some dinner?

I can't.

Okay.

Bye.

I have to rush.

You just leave the key at the desk.

-It's beautiful, isn't it? -Actually it's terrible.

But I love this frame.

Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.

-Harry Donovan.

I can have some of these resins for you by tomorrow.

For one of them, sienna, it's no problem.

But for dammar or tamarack--

-I need them all by Friday. -Friday?

I also need a complete chemical breakdown of these varnishes.

-Okay. Anything else? -I need 20 grams of lead weight.

-Lead weight? -And it has to be over 160 years old.

So, the radioactive half-life is down to zero.

Can you get it for me?

You know, this kind of an order will raise a lot of eyebrows.

-Hm.

Half now. Half on delivery.

Red legs, leaden yellow, black.

-You have here vermilion. -Pure vermilion. No extenders.

No one uses it. Very difficult.

For this Azurite pigment, cobalt blue is okay?

No, no, no. No cobalt blue, no blue manganese. Azurite.

Azurite? Very, very old stuff.

-It was cheap 300 years ago, but... -How much?

Fifty grams for... 600 marks.

Done.

You should be able to extract 20 grams worth of lead weight from this.

I need genuine badger hair brushes. Two dozen in this size.

Ox hair, squirrel hair and a half a dozen of these red sables.

-Well, where are you? -Amsterdam.

Oh. How is it?

-Expensive. -I was in Amsterdam, I think

it was, uh, it was 1951

and-- and I remember the-- the guilder was 4.8 to the dollar.

I'm getting one-seven.

Hey, you're lucky you're getting something

besides cheese from the Dutch, you know that?

-Yeah. -How's it going?

Good, yeah. Painting away.

You being straight with me?

Yeah.

Miss you, dad.

You what?

Miss you, dad.

Yeah, well, you know, I'm-- I'm-- I'm, uh, I'm sorry.

-Sorry for what? -Nothing.

I'm a little tired. I tell you what, you know,

these things cost a lot of money, these phone calls, so why don't we just--

kinda break 'em up, you know?

Give me a call in the next couple of days, okay?

Yeah.

Yeah, all right. I'll see you.

Good-bye.

Harry?

So, 350 years later,

we pick up the trail of Rembrandt's lost masterpiece.

Now, the boat sailed from Rotterdam to San Sebastian, Spain,

so we're within a 40-mile radius of where the trail might have gone cold.

-Do you have a local farmer? -Taken care of.

So, let's see what he's gonna find in his cellar, shall we?

Ha-ha.

Hmm.

It's been baked at 225 degrees, three times.

Rembrandt usually did three versions of the same painting,

one on top of the other. That'll show up on the x-rays,

which is exactly what they expect to find, exactly what they're dying to find.

-It's incredible. -It's marvelous. It's stunning.

It's payday.

I love the little rip, Harry. Great touch.

You've thought of everything except one thing.

-His signature? -Exactly.

Yeah. I thought of it.

-I thought better of it. -Oh and why was that?

Because it's too obvious. Rembrandt didn't even sign half his stuff.

And every idiot con man around the world signs all his fakes.

They're looking for that.

-It's smarter not to give it to them. -Smarter for you but dumber for us.

I mean, the signature alone is worth five million if the painting's any good.

And you'd rob Fort Knox for 100 million and still bend over to pick up a quarter,

which is dangerously dumb and I hate working with the dumb.

The only reason you won't sign it is because until you do,

you've committed no crime. Oh, well, I'm not here to smooth your exit.

Now sign the painting.

I've done hundreds of fakes all over the world,

signed, dated, initialed, unsigned. I know art experts.

You don't tell them what you have. You let them tell you.

Call Richard Bright and Andrew Westerbrook.

Invite them here to Spain at my expense to see my new find.

Tell them we suspect it may be an uncatalogued

-Diaz De La Pena. -Ha.

Now let's go and see our Spanish tiller of the earth.

-What's his name? -Juan Del Campo.

We can deal with him.

-The generous 40 bucks. -That's right.

Yeah, well, there you have it, eh? Peasant fantasy days.

Fifty-thousand pesetas for selling us an old painting

-he never had found in his cellar. -Where's my 50,000 pesetas?

Well, let's see what our London experts say first, shall we?

If it passes muster with them, you'll be paid in full.

-Cash on delivery. -Of a Rembrandt.

But I don't have a Rembrandt yet, do I? Because I don't have a signature,

-s0 until somebody tells me otherwise,

-I have a bloody Diaz De La Pena, don't I?

-Oh, that's really good. -I'm very excited.

-Are you still teaching there? -I mean it's unsigned.

-Oh, yes. -But I think it might be an early,

-uncatalogued Diaz De la Pena. -Oh.

Yes, an uncatalogued De La Pena would be wonderful.

-Wouldn't it? -Hello, welcome.

-Where's the champagne? -Right behind you, Alistair.

-Ah, thank you. -Well, gentlemen, good health.

-Cheers. -Cheers.

Good health.

Everybody ready?

That's not De La Pena.

It's not?

Where did you say you bought this?

I thought I might have discovered an old Spaniard.

Well, it is a discovery...

but it's not an old Spaniard.

It's Dutch.

This is a Rembrandt.

Are you serious?

No way.

-Harry, you'll get paid on the approval-- -I don't get paid on approval.

I get paid on delivery!

Which is now.

My client's not going to pay five million dollars for a Rembrandt

Without some kind of Dutch opinion.

But don't worry, Harry, as soon as we get back to London,

you'll be paid in full. Provided, we have favorable opinion.

Jesus!

Taxi!

This is only the second time in my entire career that I've participated

in a discovery of this magnitude.

-The Van Dyck in Goteborg. -No. That was Biedermeier.

I authenticated The Triptych in the Basilica.

Yes.

You're not going to believe this.

-Shall we telephone my client? -No bloody way.

We're not gonna to sell it to your Korean friend

for five million when we can make 30 million pounds at auction.

Auction? What?

Well, I know they'll be committed, but a public auction's dangerous.

I think we'd be putting our entire reputation at risk.

-Really? Is that what you were thinking?

Well, Iain, my reputation isn't worth 30 million pounds.

How much exactly did you think yours is worth?

Why do you let him abuse you so?

Well... it's called discipline.

-He'll dispense of you. -No, no, no. I'm biding my time.

I'm happy to let him think he's in control.

When the time's right, he's gone.

Then we go to a gallery in Tokyo.

Hm.

You got your passport ready?

Cause we are 48 hours from Italy.

No, I'm not kidding. I got the tickets right here in my hand.

That's great.

Yeah. Well, we're gonna do it all, dad.

We're gonna do everything.

All right. Bye-bye.

So, Wednesday's a bank holiday in Switzerland,

SO you can wire the money into my account on Tuesday.

That'd be fine.

Where's the fourth? You said there was gonna be four.

No idea. We're still waiting.

Well, screw 'em. First come, first served. We're gonna be down to ginger ale

-and breadsticks in a minute. -I'm sorry, I'm late.

I've been circling here

-for almost two hours. -You're here now.

-That's all that matters. Hello. -Sorry. Hello, hi.

-Angelica. -Oh, you're here. Hi.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, my God.

It's magnificent.

As soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew. Young thought it might be Boet.

No. I was only eliminating other possibilities.

-Incredible, isn't it? -Oh, truly it is.

-You have any doubts? -Well, based purely on Connoisseurship,

I'd say...

-it's brilliant.

But it's not Rembrandt.

What?

I don't feel it's Rembrandt.

Why?

I don't know. I don't have any objective criteria to base it on.

I just don't quite get the same feeling

-as when I look at others that we-- -I disagree.

I think it strongly suggests

-Rembrandt's own hand. -Yes, it's consistent

-with the artist's early Leiden period. -Even the sublime--

Listen, it's stunning.

And I'd like to think it's authentic but I feel it's not but--

Oh... hi.

I wouldn't want to go on record until I-- I'd seen the results

of chemical analysis and x-ray testing and carbon...

Oh, absolutely.

We asked you here for your considered artistic opinion

based on your Connoisseurship.

H-- here-- No. No, no. We'll be pleased to provide you

with all the data you desire.

I don't want to take up more of your time.

No, no, no. I'm sure, you must be exhausted.

Allan, will you see the professor to her taxi?

Well, sorry I have to rush again.

It's really unfortunate.

Um, you have my mobile number.

Bye.

Uh, well, gentlemen, more champagne. I understand what she's saying.

-Well, oh, a student. -What?

-You told me you were a student. -I told you the truth.

The truth?

You're M.M. van den Broeck, you phony

which you neglected to mention when I saw you in Paris

reading your book for the 15th time.

It was the finish of my father's research.

Yeah, yeah but you wrote it.

And then you song and danced me at the Musae.

I was a student in Paris. I was studying art restoration, professor.

I never said I was a professor, my dear. You did.

Look... what happened in Paris was a mistake.

I'm sorry.

I must go now. I'm late for Covent garden.

What, the fucking opera?

You breeze in for two minutes to see Rembrandt,

then four hours at Rigoletto?

La Boheme. And sadly, I can't even stay for all of it

because I have to catch my train back to Venice tonight at ten o'clock.

Will you listen to me? Alistair Davies knew

this is a Rembrandt all along.

He's the one who sent me to go do research.

He knew it wasn't Diaz De La Pena. He just used that line

to steal the painting away from the Spaniards.

And the only reason he's got you all here is to make him look honest.

But I'm not so sure it is a Rembrandt.

Well, if it's not a Rembrandt, what is it?

I don't know. Maybe a student, maybe someone from his circle,

-Maybe nobody. -Nobody.

What do you mean a nobody?

Look, it's too perfect: Composition, eyes, texture, brushwork, everything.

But I feel something missing that makes me doubt it.

But mine's only one opinion. You have three others.

-That's enough to get you to auction. -What do you mean, auction?

Covent garden.

-What do you mean auction?

I know it's disappointing. That's three out of four.

That's none out of four.

-It's one opinion. -She's the one that counts, you idiot.

She's the expert's expert. She's the chief consultant

of the bleeding Rembrandt committee. We're dead.

Harry!

Harry, what are you doing?

I signed on for private placement, not public auction.

Why not go for 30 million instead of five?

Because going public is for pigs like you.

That and asking every fool on the globe to stick

-his nose up the ass of this thing. -Well, doesn't your work bear scrutiny?

If I thought it was smart to go public, I wouldn't need

-a fucking middleman, would I? -You're the middleman.

Any idiot can paint a picture. It takes genius to sell it.

You wouldn't know art if Michelangelo stuck his Maulstick

-up your ass. -I'm warning you.

You filthy pimp.

Just give me the painting.

Harry. Harry, don't!

Ah!

You are the worm in the stomach of every painter that ever lived.

You bastard!

Iain...

ring the police. Now!

Shira!

Harold Donovan?

-What do you want? -Inspector Deeks.

We'd like a moment of your time if you don't mind.

I mind.

Where were you, sir, at approximately nine o'clock this evening?

Right here.

-Do you know Mr. Alistair Davies, sir? -No.

Have you been in the La Salle gallery of fine art at any time tonight?

-No. -That's not what Mr. Davies says, sir.

Nor what a Mr. Iain Ill says.

Nor did Professor Marieke van den Broeck says.

And what did she say?

That you were there observing a Rembrandt.

Rembrandt? She said Rembrandt.

Among other things.

Wow, you got me confused, which means I am drunker than I thought.

Cancel that last Guinness, please.

Would you step outside with us, please, sir?

-It's raining. -It stopped.

We'd like to talk to you about the contents of that tube.

-Well, great, but the tube's mine. -Not according to Mr. Alistair Davies.

He's full of shit now, isn't he?

Put the tube down, sir, and turn around.

-What for? -Please, turn around.

-Ah!

Hello.

-So, now it's a Rembrandt. -I never said it was. I've never sa--

All right, well, can you do me a favor? Can you keep this intuition bullshit

-to yourself for a couple days? -What?

Just two days. I need to sell this painting.

But he's pulled me out of the opera.

They're trying to bust me for stealing, which I didn't do.

-Aren't you leaving something out? -What?

-Like the man you shot in the gallery. -The who?

Who did I shoot? Please tell me it was Davies.

You killed that man. You murdered that Japanese art dealer.

-No, I didn't. -Yes, you did.

No, I did not. Hey!

-Listen. -I'll miss my train.

-No, you won't.

-Oh! -Oh, excuse me.

-I'm sorry. -Excuse me.

Anyone, who can help us. Now--

-Hang on. -What's the matter now?

-Have you got my passport? -No, you've got passports.

-Tickets, please. -Listen!

-Ow! -Wait!

Breakfast bell will be rung at eight o'clock. Miss?

Misprint.

Uh, right, sir. Have a nice journey.

Help!

Help! Oh!

-Please! Don't do that. -Are you going to kill me?

I didn't kill anyone. I don't have a gun. I don't want to hurt you

but I will. Now, I'm going to sell that painting

because as far as the world's concerned, it's a Rembrandt.

And the only person who thinks that it's not is you.

So, you give me 48 hours before you kill it.

-Two days and then you're free. -You'll never be able to sell it.

Okay, professor.

We've got full alerts at all the airports, ferries and train stations.

They contacted the F.B.I. for anything they've got on him.

Passport.

-Shit! Sergeant, get that. -Yup.

What is it?

If you're really innocent, you'd be stupid to run like this.

I didn't murder anyone.

Don't tell me, tell the police. Let justice run its course.

If justice ran its course,

Van Gogh wouldn't have died broke in a nut house.

While Irises sold for 50 million to some insurance goon.

Oh, so Van Gogh gives you the right to steal this picture and sell it.

No, doctor.

What gives me the right is I didn't steal it... I painted it.

What?

I said I painted it.

-I don't believe you. -I don't care what you believe.

-What are you saying? -I am saying that it is my painting

because I painted it, so I'm going to sell it.

I see. All that-- that gallery, this picture, this is just one big fraud.

Fraud? When are you going to realize that all of this art crap is a fraud.

Otherwise, how could the same picture be worth ten million or zip

based on what, a signature?

Rembrandt is priceless, Donovan is worthless, that's not art...

that's autographs.

It has been known for a gallery

to arrange to have a picture stolen from themselves.

To what possible end, may I ask?

-Insurance money, perhaps. -That's ridiculous.

It's not insured at all. We're out-of-pocket 20 million pounds.

And more importantly, inspector,

we've lost our closest colleague Mr. Agachi.

There's evidence that Donovan and van den Broeck

may have known each other previously.

At least as far back as a month ago in Paris.

My God.

-They're in collusion. -To do what, sir?

To fleece us.

Don't you see, by calling the painting a fake, I'd have to sell

it pennies in the pound, then they'd turn around

and sell it at full price.

A-- and failing that, Donovan simply stole it and...

murdered Tom in cold blood.

Right in front of us like some maniac.

Professor van den Broeck said she was unconvinced

of the painting's authenticity.

Inspector, if it weren't absolutely genuine,

then why would they steal it?

-Porter, why has the train stopped? -We're backed up, sir. Police search.

I'll take this one.

Open the door.

Porter, come unlock this door.

Two days. Two days.

Okay, you don't have to...

Whew!

Hello, can I get two pints, please?

Two pints, you say? Right.

-You, uh, have a telephone? -A phone. Ha ha ha.

You've come to the right place for a phone, I'll tell you that.

We have here the original restored phone box used by Lord Mountbatten

to call Winston Churchill on the very night

that Field Marshal Montgomery received his command.

-There's a plague on the back wall. -And where is that?

-Around and behind. -All right. Come on.

I have a collect call for a Mr. Felix Darmene

from Harry Donovan.

-Go ahead, please. -Felix, yeah.

Look, I've got something for you.

Yeah, a once-in-a-lifetime thing-- Dutch master.

Can you get it here to Geneva?

Look, you interested?

We'll be happy to have a look.

-Ya-- -Help!

-Help! Help! -Hey!

-No. Can you hold it for a second? -Help.

Hey! Open up!

-Stop. Stop! -Help!

Help!

Help!

Stop it!

Oh!

-You bastard! -Be careful!

You bloody Yank bastard!

Destroyed a bit of England!

Come here!

Ladies, if you don't mind. Keep chasing the snow!

Now, my dear, that was rude.

In the middle of a phone call. You trying to get us killed?

What are you doing with me? I'm in this paper like some criminal.

You don't believe that I killed that guy.

It's a lot easier than believing you painted that picture.

Oh, that's right. You are the expert, aren't you?

I didn't paint the Rembrandt that isn't the Rembrandt.

I killed the guy that I didn't Kill. Oh, and we didn't make love in Paris.

Not to mention you killed Mr. Churchill's phone box.

Seems that the door was stuck, wasn't it?

And I'll tell you, that happens again, I'll ruin you.

And it's going to take a lifetime to clear your name

cause I'll tell them that you were in it with me from the beginning.

I swear to God, I'll turn your precious little reputation

-into dog shit. -What?

Dog shit! Poo-poo?

So get it. From now on, we are friends. Let's act that way.

You don't have any friends.

-Oh, yeah, why is that? -You're an ogre. You don't like people.

-What? -You don't like people.

-Oh, I like people. -Name one.

I like people.

One more day with me, while I try to fence this painting.

You spend one day with the ogre.

Oh, I'm shivering. I'm so cold.

Come on, move along here!

-Did nobody ever tell you about stealing? -What's that rule again?

-Oh. -You all right?

Great.

-You feel hot. -Oh.

-Do you have any money?

Why, you want to steal it?

-Yes. -Too bad, cause I--

I lost my purse on the train.

-Marieke. -Thank you.

Kid's got talent.

Hm. Are you sure that's Gainsborough?

It's killing me to part with it now.

So, what are you asking for it?

Guess what? Classic car. Austin Healey stolen. Canterbury.

-Did they get a license plate? -691 TDT.

It's Ampicillin bk, 500 milligrams,

So, just take one every four hours.

-You know a lot about pharmaceuticals. -My grandfather.

-Was a pharmacist? -Yeah.

-Your father too? -No. Painter.

Ashcan School.

Sloan, bellows, hopper.

Taught me how to draw.

I taught me how to make a living.

When did you first make a living?

My mother had just died. My father was scraping

by illustrating auto manuals.

Painting when he could.

Did an oil-- Workers in a machine shop.

It was quite a painting.

Couldn't sell it for ten bucks.

So, one day I took it.

Fooled around with it for a couple of hours.

Went downtown and sold it that day for a grand.

How did you feel?

Sick.

And I think he knew.

Then why didn't you quit?

Cause I was young. Money, denial, I don't know.

Met the wrong guy at the right time.

Friend of my dad's.

Not a very good painter but quite a hustler.

And he taught me every style in the world.

Except your own.

Is everything fake?

No.

No.

His work's been hanging at the Scottish National Gallery

for the last three years now.

Excuse me.

We've got some good news for you, sir.

-Come through.

We confirmed your account that the picture was uninsured.

So, uh, where's my painting?

-We believe he's still got it, sir. -You believe!

Apparently, they got off the French-bound train last night

Just ahead of our own people. We believe they're still in Britain

but, uh, for all we know, sir,

he could have made it anywhere in the world at any time.

It's a Rembrandt! He'd never mail it.

I'll mail it to you.

It's hotter than a pistol, Harry.

-Nobody will touch it. -Oh, come on, Dimi, are you telling me--

Every time they steal the Mona Lisa, there's a hundred people

waiting in line to buy it. Are you telling me this is hotter than that?

Every time they stole the Mona Lisa, they never killed anybody.

Yeah, but Dimi. Dimi--

Don't call me again, Harry. I don't want to buy your problem.

Fuck!

There's a million dollars out there for this picture,

and that prick Davies has fixed it.

The entire legitimate, semi-legitimate,

-semi-illegitimate market is dead to me. -You know, you're losing your mind.

You're as ravenous as those vultures,

-you hate so much. -More.

So stop pretending to be some martyr outside of it

-because you are it. -Are you finished?

With all this outrage, you could be signing your own name.

-My father signed his own name-- -Please shut up about your father.

This is the only thing I have to give him.

You're not doing this for your father, Harry.

You blame your father for your failure.

What the hell do you know about failure, doctor? You inherited your racket.

You were given your library gig. So, what do you know about failure?

Maybe nothing.

Maybe I am exactly what you say I am-- A woman stuck in a book.

-A safe place. -That's right.

But failure's a safe place for you, Harry. Doing your own work,

that's a risk but you don't use your talent. You simply don't have the--

-Guts. Yeah. -Guts, yes.

Coming from the woman who never took a risk in her life.

I'm taking one right now.

I am not an artist, Harry, but I love art.

Oh, will you do me a favor and don't talk to me about art?

Don't even say it!

-Art was my dog's name. -Oh, that's obvious.

There's no real beauty in you. Not really. You're in it for the paycheck.

Oh, who isn't?

Do you think the garbageman ain't in it for the paycheck?

Cause he sure as hell ain't in it for the garbage.

You're talking about a job, Harry.

I'm talking about a gift.

Right. If you're going to London, people,

the bus is leaving in two minutes.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

-Yes or no, Colin? -There's a fellow in Birmingham,

Uh, name of Offul. He'll fence just about anything,

-but he cuts pretty deep. -How deep?

A hundred thousand. Thames bridge, midnight.

A hundred thousand pounds for a Rembrandt?

Dollars. Thames bridge, midnight.

I'll tell you what, I'd rather burn it, you son of a bitch!

If I get caught, I want you to mail this for me.

The London bus is leaving right now.

Give me, uh, 12 hours before you blow the whistle.

-Give you 12 hours? -Yeah.

I kissed you on a bridge.

We made love under one. I think you can trust me.

It's not what I--

It's not what I said.

Excuse me, Luv, how much for the painting?

What, that?

It's not for sale. It's me dad's, innit?

-Well, pick a high number, dear.

-You like it that much?

Fifty quid, then.

Oh!

Rembrandt Van Rijn, I presume.

You got the money?

May I see the goods, my dear?

Hundred thousand?

I owe you 100,000.

Did we say dollars or pounds?

Oh, what the hell, let's make it pounds. It's a Rembrandt, after all.

May I owe you a million pounds?

Ugo, settle the debt.

-Ah!

It's not the bloody Rembrandt!

It says Rembrandt.

You stupid ass!

Franz Richard Odebaker.

Belgian school. One of his most important works.

Outside of Belgium.

Ha. If only you stuck to Belgian masters.

Hello, John.

Hello, Harry. It's been a while.

How's your dad? How's Milton?

Not great.

You know, I always maintained

that you were the most brilliant, I ever saw.

Well, I got to lay off this painting, John.

I'm sorry, Harry.

Like Moses, you can see the promised land but you can't step foot in it.

-Yes, I can. -Come on, Harry, this is chess.

-The grand masters never play it out. -I am not leaving with nothing.

You may leave with less than nothing.

Pray for nothing.

Harry...

I'd better tell you something.

I was the one who put Davies onto you. I hoped for the best.

I never imagined it would turn out like this.

Forgive me, please.

Harold Donovan, you are under arrest for murder.

Son of a bitch.

The painting.

Get-- get that-- that painting!

We will prove that the defendant Mr. Harold Donovan

attempted to participate in the brokerage of a Dutch master portrait.

That when he realized he would be excluded from the transaction, he became enraged,

that when he realized he'd be left with nothing,

he stole the masterpiece, using violence.

Robbery. He killed one of his former partners.

Murder.

He resisted arrest, assaulted a policeman.

He fled.

And we recovered a Lincoln-Levinson semiautomatic,

photographed and dusted it for fingerprints.

And were there any fingerprints on the handgun?

M'lord, I really must ask Mr. Turley, Kindly to stop leading the witness.

I will rephrase the question. What did you find on the gun?

"A thumb smudge on the barrel belonging to Mr. Alistair Davies

and a clear right forefinger on the trigger and trigger guard

belonging to Mr. Donovan.

He's not answering. Would you like to leave a message?

Yeah, yeah. Please tell him that his son called and that I--

Hello-- hello?

Hel--

-Who was in the gallery? -Tom, Iain and I.

We had just decided to go ahead with our plans

for a private sale to a client of Tom's in Korea,

when suddenly Mr. Donovan burst in and demanded the Rembrandt.

Naturally, we all protested but he took the painting.

That's utter bullshit.

Mr. White, would you please exercise some control over your client?

Professor Westerbrook, you have had an opportunity

to examine the painting in question, have you not?

-I have. -As Regius professor of fine art

at St. Matthews College, Oxford and as an adviser on old masters

to her majesty the Queen, what conclusions have you reached?

In my opinion, the work is indisputably Rembrandt van Rijn.

-A masterpiece. -Authentic.

-Rembrandt. -It's a fake.

Is it possible, you might have a personal reason

for not being entirely truthful on behalf of the defendant?

No.

You've said, he handcuffed you and kidnapped you?

-Yes. -Although at the time of his apprehension,

I don't believe anyone remembers you wearing handcuffs.

Are you in love with him?

Really, My Lord, perhaps my learned friend

-could explain the relevance-- -My Lord, it is entirely relevant,

concerning as it does the witness' motives in giving evidence here today.

You must answer the question, please.

I did not love him when I first saw and pronounced this painting not genuine.

And you had no involvement with him

before you saw the painting for the first time?

-No. -Really?

When were you last in Paris, Professor van den Broeck?

Um...

-four months ago. -And where did you stay?

-Hotel Lyon. -My Lord, with your permission,

I would like to admit this note into court.

Written to the defendant and signed by the witness.

Professor van den Broeck, would you be so kind

as to read that note aloud to the court?

-"I had to go--" -No, we cannot hear you, professor.

I suspect also that members of the jury

may be having a little trouble with your delightful accent.

Yes, please. Speak up.

"I had to go. You were wonderful.

To R.V.R. Marieke."

Will you tell us, please, what R.V.R. means?

-Rembrandt Van Rijn. -Thank you, professor.

Professor, I submit that your evidence is worthless and your credibility,

-highly questionable. -Is my learned friend cross-examining

-or is he making a speech? -Call Maurice Scheerding.

She said, he was a friend. He was a patronizing, arrogant bore.

And I can tell you, he does not know his art from his ass.

And tell us what were they doing in the bar?

-Translation, please. -Uh, making the beast with two backs.

And what does that mean?

Sexual congress, My Lord.

No, no, no. They were fucking.

When Mr. Agachi stepped forward to prevent you from stealing the painting,

-did you fire the gun at Mr. Agachi? -Yes.

But I didn't kill him. I was-- I was trying to make a point.

Look, I-- I have a studio in Amsterdam and I can prove all these things.

You'll prove what, that you didn't kill him?

-It's all part of a conspiracy? -A conspiracy for what?

Conspiracy to commit armed robbery.

-Of what? -Rembrandt's portrait of his father.

Except that it's my portrait of my father.

Now, look, I--

They took it away, but I had a picture. And-- and-- and if you could see it,

-you'd be able to see that... -What?

...the eyes-- That I gave it my father's eyes.

Mr. Donovan, please. The portrait may have, but the eyes...

No. Have I painted my father's eyes, and I distorted it.

I painted it over and over in the same way that Rembrandt would've.

If you take a look at the x-rays, you'll be able to see that.

Sir.

Have you any idea how many men step forward each year

to claim credit for Hamlet or Beethoven's Ninth symphony?

Do you know how many people are convinced that they are the Czar's long-lost nephew,

Napoleon even Jesus Christ?

Well, I'm not Jesus.

But I painted that painting.

No more questions, M'lord.

What a day. Oh, what a day. What a monumental day.

You know, Harry, you were absolutely right.

Signing that painting, that would've been a grievous error.

Please accept my sincere apologies.

I do hope you know how much I truly admire your work.

Well, not enough to pay for it but then, it's all a pile of shit anyway, isn't it?

And as for the public, well, you see, they're told what's art by me.

And you forgot that, Harry.

Or you never knew it.

When this yen-soaked tycoon couldn't wait to throw his money away,

it was because I said the painting was a steal at five million.

So...

what in the world were you thinking when you took my Rembrandt?

You could've had half a million.

And a towel on the beach. Instead you're here.

Destitute. Like all the others.

So, Van Gogh sat in a room in a mental hospital painting sunflowers.

You can cut off both your ears but unless I say you're a genius,

you're just another lunatic.

Oh, by the way, well, this is old news...

but...

I'm sure he died a proud father.

When the last time I was with him, he yelled at me.

You know, I should've taken the time.

-I didn't get it. -He was sick in his heart.

He never judged me.

Never, ever was he anything less than beautiful to me.

-He loved you. -And I betrayed him.

-No. -Yeah.

He had a gift for me, and I didn't see it in time.

-I missed it. -No, what you see now is his gift to you.

We have one last chance.

One thing to do.

M'lord, the defense requests permission to have the defendant,

Mr. Harold Donovan, demonstrate his expertise here in open court

-by reproducing the disputed painting. -My Lord, we have just heard

from five scientists and other experts.

Having the defendant now, here in court, paint, wouldn't be evidence of anything.

It would be evidence of artistic expertise, My Lord.

By recreating the picture in his own hand, Mr. Donovan can support his claim

-to authorship of the disputed Rembrandt. -My Lord, even if he reproduced

Whistler's Mother here in court, would that make him Whistler?

My Lord, there is ample precedent for this in the 1947 trial

of the Dutch master forger Han van Meergeren.

He reproduced his counterfeit Vermeer paintings in open court.

That was in Holland, M'lord.

I really can't see the relevance of the country.

I will permit it.

-But, My Lord-- -I'm tired of hearing about all this.

I want to see it for myself.

Court will adjourn while you prepare this demonstration.

All rise.

You can forget your membership at my club.

Now we're screwed.

Calm down, you idiot. Nobody's screwed.

-If he succeeds, the painting's worthless. -The whole thing's falling apart.

It took him a whole month to paint it under perfect conditions.

The best he's going to come up with now, is a sketch.

He's going to prove the case for us here.

Right.

-Hi.

Hello.

You know, when I went to the gallery, there were three of you.

Now, there are two.

I guess pretty soon there will only be one.

-Really? -One can't be too careful.

Court is now in session.

Is the defendant ready, Mr. White?

-He is, My Lord. -Very well. He can begin.

What happened to your own show? Remember that?

You promised me you were going to get rid of this forgery shit. That's the point.

Not even Harry Donovan.

Harry.

Harry, come on, please. Go on.

What are you doing?

Has your client finished, Mr. White?

Only Rembrandt can paint Rembrandt.

-See, Iain? Nothing to worry about. -We were lucky.

I make my own luck.

-Yes, Mr. Turley? -Uh, call Mr. Iain Ill, please.

Now get up there and try not to make too big a fool of yourself.

Mr. Ill, will you tell us please, in your own words

what happened on the night in question?

Yes.

There was a dispute over the sale of the Rembrandt.

Alistair wanted to cut Mr. Donovan out of the deal.

There was an argument.

Mr. Donovan tried to take the painting.

Alistair pulled out a gun. There was a struggle.

Mr. Donovan got hold of the gun.

He humiliated Alistair...

-fired a shot...

-Ah!

...over Tom Agachi's head.

Missing him.

Stole the painting and ran.

-Are you okay, Tom?

Then Alistair picked up the gun...

covered it with a handkerchief...

Iain.

Ring the police. Tell them there's been a robbery.

And a murder.

What?

Ah!

Who shot Mr. Agachi?

-Alistair Davies. -You son of a bitch!

You bastard! You-- you bastard!

You're a-- a pitiful fucking rat bastard!

You son of a bitch! I'll kill you, you bastard!

Clear the public gallery!

Officers, bring that man before the court!

You understand that you will be held in contempt of court

for this very serious and prejudicial outburst?

My Lord, we will request a retrial based on the nature of the eruption

and its effect on my client's attempt to exculpate himself.

Yes, Mr. White. We will hear those arguments tomorrow.

M'lord, it would be interesting to know why Mr. Ill found it necessary

to make false statements during the original police inquiry.

Because I was terrified. I've always been afraid of Alistair.

Always. I am the only witness to the murder he committed.

I know it would only be a matter of time before he got rid of me, too.

Alistair Davies, I understand that you have been placed under arrest

by the police. You will be taken from this building in their custody

and in my view, you should be held without bail until your trial.

Mr. Turley, in view of these developments,

do you still seek a conviction in front of this jury?

We do not, M'lord.

Members of the jury, I will shortly invite you to enter formal verdicts

of not guilty on all outstanding charges and, Mr. Donovan,

-you will be free to leave this court. -Thank you.

Clerk, we will take the verdict.

-Sold at 375,000 pounds.

Lot 22.

Portrait of a Blind Man by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn.

Subject believed to be the artist's own father.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you.

I'll start the bidding at four million pounds.

Four million pounds. Gentleman on the aisle.

Yeah, will you tell her I called? I mean, I tried everywhere. I don't...

Yeah.

Well, tell her I'm here and I'll wait but you know, tell her to come.

Ten million. The gentleman

on the aisle over here. Ten million pounds.

Ten-million-five hundred thousand pounds. The lady in the second row at the back.

Eighteen million pounds. The lady on the aisle in the back.

Eighteen million pounds.

Eighteen million pounds. 18,500,000 pounds gentleman in the front row.

Eighteen-million-five-hundred-thousand pounds.

Would you wait for me, please?

The gavel just fell-- Fifty-five million dollars

Sold to a Hong Kong hotel chain.

Guess where all the money goes?

Don't tell me. U.N.I.C.E.F.?

The owner of the La Salle gallery of fine art, Iain Ill.

I guess he goes home a very rich man.

Maybe.

-What do you mean, maybe? -Did you mail that letter for me?

Yeah.

-What about it? -Oh...

Maybe sometimes means, maybe not.

Ladies and gentlemen! My lords! Ladies and gentlemen!

Little bit of a hush. Little bit of a hush. Please, please.

Um, it-- it gives me great joy

to welcome you all here on this wonderful evening.

Um, as our great good friends

of many years have seen us through some difficult times,

we'd like to invite you all in a few weeks

to the opening of our exciting new gallery in Tokyo!

-Um, of course, uh,

we seem to have run out of Rembrandts. Ha-ha.

But there's still a lot of fabulous paintings to buy

so enjoy yourselves. Cheers, everyone.

-Well said! -Chong, Chong,

come meet E.L. Hand, my assistant. Thank you.

E.L. meet Chong. Chong, this is E.L. my assistant.

-Uh, we-- we've got a problem. -Huh?

Uh, does the name Juan Del Campo ring a bell?

Del Campo, 19th century linguist?

The farmer in whose cellar the Rembrandt was discovered.

Oh, yes, I remember him.

He got an anonymous letter saying you cheated him.

He apparently hired himself a lawyer.

Um, under Spanish law,

The Government of Spain has the right to match the purchase price

of any painting deemed a national treasure

which-- which this painting now has been deemed.

Oh. Hooray for Spain.

Forget pounds. I'm quite happy to take it in pesetas.

I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, Iain.

The Spanish courts have ruled he is the painting's true owner

-and he gets all the money. -This is insane.

They can't void a sale just like that.

You're my lawyer. You've got to do something about it.

-That painting was sold! -And it remains sold.

It's just your money, you see, which makes its transfer back to Spain.

All of it.

Mmm.

-Very practical. -Thanks to you.

My grandfather remembers you here, a few months ago,

uh, of course, when you sent the letter.

He says you are an angel for our family.

Of the seven billion pesetas, the government took two-third.

And the church took another half.

But without the letter, he wouldn't have anything.

He wants to give you half. Six hundred million pesetas.

Five million dollars.

That's very generous.

He wants to embrace you. You are the angel of the people here.

-Gracias. -De Nada.

Amigo... where's the Rembrandt?

In Madrid. In the Prado, of course.

Si, en el Prado, en el Prado.

Think it's, uh... genuine?

What do you ask me for?

Just want to know what you feel... professor.

I'm not sure.

It's not signed.