An arrogant and lonely auctioneer fiddles auctions with a bent colleague to build a private collection on the cheap. An heiress contacts him with a vast collection in a crumbling villa. She keeps evading meetings, and turns out to be an agoraphobic hiding in a secret apartment in the villa.A romantic relationship, complete with furious arguments and reconciliation, blossoms between the fifty-something auctioneer and the 27 year old recluse. A whizz-kid helps the auctioneer on technical matters, including putting back together an automaton pieces of which mysteriously appear out of nowhere, on the floor, in various rooms in the villa. Many other sub-plots emerge, no doubt in order to give complexity and subtlety to the plot, and lead the viewer off on wrong conclusions, all the better to be absolutely amazed when the truth comes to light.
This fails to happen. The plot lines are transparently obvious, the flaws grotesque ("The experienced auctioneer" can't tell a real 17th century from a version put together by a mechanics nerd. The auctioneer can't tell the "valuable ancient collection in the villa" from bits and pieces put together by the youngsters, and so on).
It's entertaining for a good bit, but disbelief cannot be suspended for the second half. And then it goes into extra time, and that's just too much.
This fails to happen. The plot lines are transparently obvious, the flaws grotesque ("The experienced auctioneer" can't tell a real 17th century from a version put together by a mechanics nerd. The auctioneer can't tell the "valuable ancient collection in the villa" from bits and pieces put together by the youngsters, and so on).
It's entertaining for a good bit, but disbelief cannot be suspended for the second half. And then it goes into extra time, and that's just too much.