User Reviews

Do these documentary filmmakers all go to the same film school? Every interview shot is guaranteed to be either too close to begin with, or to slowly and surely zoom in too close while the person is speaking. Instead of focusing on what the speakers are talking about, I'm counting nose hairs or contemplating various skin conditions. Sometimes for variety they start too-close and zoom out.

We see closeups of the back of Harold Smith's neck while he's taking the T or walking through South Station. Or endless closeups of his hands, his cheeks, his prosthetic nose. It's not just him--every speaker is treated the same way. What point are they trying to make with this investigation into everybody's skin pores? They're like frustrated dermatologists. The shots are so close you can't even see the speaker's entire face half the time. Why? Once you notice it you can't help but watch for it and sure enough, another steady zoom. Maybe it's fear of talking-head syndrome--they do it to inject a measure of (cheap) dynamics into an otherwise static shot of somebody talking. What a tedious technique!

As for the other aspects of the film, I don't know what Dreyfus would have done had she not found Smith to build her film around. Smith is a cool character but not much actually happens. We see him getting in and out of planes trains and taxicabs, and listening to various cranks and scam artists, and learn a little about Gardner herself. We see some scenes of Venice through the same off-balance zoom-in and zoom-out technique. None of this amounts to much. No time is spent describing the mechanics of the heist. Considering this was one of the great capers of the century, we learn very little about how it was actually pulled off. I guess because the documentary strives for something more than a mere exposition of the crime. Is this artistic license, or just laziness? Its her film, she gets to decide what to focus on. Seems to me though some of those pointless scenes of Smith getting out of taxis could have been replaced with a few minutes in the beginning, showing us how the thieves moved through the museum, dealt with the alarm system, and made their getaway.

This movie shares with The Giant Buddhas a lack of interest in the narrative, in favor of a tendency to meander and linger on irrelevancies.

To its credit the film does a good job of explaining, and showing Vermeer's appeal.

Somewhat disappointing documentary about the still unsolved 1990 theft of 11 major art works from Boston's Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (5 Degas, 3 Rembrandts, one Manet, one Flinck and "The Concert" by Vermeer, which some say is the world's most valuable piece of unrecovered stolen art).

Ms. Dreyfus tries in vain to interweave three narrative strands: Mrs. Gardner's ambitions for her collection and her artistic sensibilities, glimpsed through excerpts from letters exchanged between her and Bernard Berenson, the famed American art historian, who represented her in the acquisition of paintings in Europe in the 1890s; stories about Vermeer's work and two of the Rembrandts; and the investigative efforts of a world famous stolen art sleuth, Harold J. Smith, who worked unsuccessfully on the case for 15 years, until his death in 2005.

Smith's sleuthing is the one subtext that receives adequate treatment here. He's an intriguing character - courtly, trim, well dressed, suffering from severe, facially disfiguring skin cancer, yet cheerful and temperate all the while – almost a Victorian sort of person in his own right. Conan Doyle might have dreamt him up. And through his efforts, we get to meet several infamous (though possibly now retired) international art thieves, and learn, among other things, that the Irish Republican Army has from time to time dabbled in stolen art for profit, specializing, it turns out, in Vermeers.

Smith died with a conviction that through the auspices of Boston Irish master criminal James "Whitey" Bulger (still wanted and at large), the IRA ended up holding and perhaps privately peddling the Gardner works. What struck Smith and some of the former thieves as uncanny is that the works did not come to light in the first couple years after the theft, or, more recently in response to the bait of a $5M reward.

There's a lovely little irony to this story: in many museums like the Gardner, minimum wage, untrained college kids were (are) often hired to guard art collections worth billions! My grades: 6/10 (B-) (Seen on 10/15/06)

STOLEN was one of the most disappointing film experiences I've had in a long time, more so because it had so much squandered potential.

The story was intriguing: in 1990, thieves dressed as Boston Police stolen several paintings from the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum, and their heist included "The Concert" by Vermeer, and is considered the most valuable painting ever stolen. If you don't think you're familiar with Vermeer, thing "Girl with a Pearl Earring." The story unfolds with thieves, politics, the mob, and all sorts of shady characters being tracked by a renowned art recovery expert, Harold Smith, a character in himself. And that's not even mentioning Isabella Stewart Gardner and her art museum.

What should have been a fascinating tale was one of the most haphazard and boring documentaries I've seen in years, and reeked of attention deficit disorder, from disorienting and senseless shots, to the sudden direction changes and long silences.

It would touch on elements, and then discard them, and when it did explore them, it was so superficial it was like hearing a good joke told by someone with no timing. And being from Boston, I know elements touched on in the piece that really could have been developed to make it more interesting and coherent.

It really could have been an incredible documentary, but it failed.

I found this movie to be interesting and thoughtful, skillfully combining investigative reporting with art criticism and human interest. It was atmospheric and, perhaps most successfully of all, captured something of the allure that draws us to works of art and that then makes some people steal them--the latter a sort of perverse commentary on the intangible something about great art that makes us value it so highly.

By concentrating on the fascination that all the characters in the movie had with these paintings, the movie thus, for me, extended itself beyond the requirements of who stole the goods and how they did it (the theme, after all, of many tedious heist movies) and became an extended meditation on what it means to possess and be possessed by an image. Looked at this way, the movie grows in the imagination long after one or many viewings, and deepens very satisfyingly. Highly recommended.

I loved Stolen! As someone who tends to shy away from documentaries, Stolen kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time! The Producer and Director did a beautiful job interpreting their very lengthy and detailed investigation on film -- I really got it and I wanted to find the thief myself. It makes you appreciate fine art and the emotions that humans attach to its presence. Stolen plays like a feature, where the suspects and the informants are all characters -- with the sweetness and brilliance of Harold Smith, to the hilariousness of the suspects from abroad -- Stolen is a true "masterpiece". It's no wonder it's been successful all over the country. It engages viewers who are not from the Boston area and deserves all the accolades and kudos it receives. I say, "Well done!".

"Stolen" is a fascinating film: it's partly a thriller, partly a tale of obsession, and partly an unstuffy art history seminar. It's also a portrait of an independent woman of means at the turn of the twentieth century who has strong ideas about what a masterpiece is—and how it should be seen by the world. As this absorbing and accomplished film unfolds, from the audacious heist of numerous masterworks from Boston's Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, including Vermeer's "The Concert," to the efforts of art detective Harold Smith to find them, the viewer is utterly drawn in. Will the mystery callers come up with hard leads for Smith to follow? Did the Irish Republican Army (IRA) play a role in the theft? Are the stolen paintings closer than we think? Why does Vermeer's art seem to have such power over us? And what does it mean if a beloved work of art is never seen again?

"Stolen" is unfurled through a varied and variable cast of characters: writers, scholars, ex- cons, not quite reliable informants (are they charlatans?), and a loquacious, captivating museum guard. All are eminently watchable as they spin out theories of human nature, the criminal mind, and what compels people to obsess about art. The film is rich on many levels and its weaving together of themes and personas is achieved with style and grace. Will the paintings be found? Will Mrs. Gardner's dream for her personal museum be restored? You'll be eager to see how the film's central mystery is resolved. But "Stolen" also explores many other questions about the nature of art and of life. These you'll likely ponder long after the film ends. After watching "Stolen," you may never look at a piece of art, or a lover of art, the same way again.