Steinesongo Too many fans seem to be blown away

Fluentiama Perfect cast and a good story

Fairaher The film makes a home in your brain and the only cure is to see it again.

Edwin The storyline feels a little thin and moth-eaten in parts but this sequel is plenty of fun.

marysz This is a passionately made documentary about how the rug was yanked out from under the legitimate trustees of the Barnes Foundation in order to move its priceless art collection to Philadelphia. I was lucky enough to have visited the Barnes when it was still in Merion. Barnes unintentionally created intractable problems for his collection when he put it in a quiet, affluent, suburban neighborhood, while at the same time intending that his collection should be for ordinary people. This has always puzzled me. Originally, he actually hung the paintings in his factory in Philadelphia so the workers could see them. When the power brokers zoomed in on the Barnes, the residents of Merion, on one hand, wanted the collection to stay in the neighborhood but, on the other hand, made it as difficult as possible for visitors to see it by restricting their numbers. Also, there was no way to reach it by public transportation.The septa station is not close by. This stubbornness on the part of the residents was their fatal flaw--and it made the Foundation vulnerable. By the time the town and county were willing to change the zoning, it was too late. The Annenbergs and the Pew foundation are no angels, but if Barnes had originally put his collection in Philadelphia in the first place, in a working-class neighborhood instead of in a wealthy suburb, he could have fulfilled his ideals about making art accessible to everyone, not just the elite. Unfortunately, even in its new location, it's still not easy to get in and see the collection. Visiting it has always been an elitist experience, ironically.

runamokprods Interesting and entertaining look at how a bunch of the powerful in Philadelphia basically conspired to take one of the great modern art collections in the world away from it's home in the suburbs, , and transplant them into Philadelphia proper, against the express wishes left in Albert C. Barnes will (made in 1922). While there's no question the tactics used by those in power are sleazy, the film also ignores what I consider a key issue: Is it really such a bad thing that one of the most amazing collections of modern art be much more accessible to the public, even if it violates the will of a man with no heirs who has been dead over 50 years? At what point do old grudges - going both ways - count less than art belonging to the world? I'm not saying there are neat answers to such questions, but the film acts like there's no moral murkiness at all. Similarly the film uses questionable tactics to argue its case. For example it's constantly stating how those on the 'other side' refuse to be interviewed. Yet, it is clear that the ideology of the film-makers is known to all involved -- the film is financed by one of the leaders of the group fighting against the collections movement, and guards at a gathering of those planning the art move know not to allow in this specific film crew, even mentioning their production company name. If you knew you a film was being made whose basic premise is that you're a swindler a cheat and a thief with no respect for art, would you agree to be interviewed? Additionally, some of those who seem so calm and well reasoned while being interviewed and arguing the art should be left where it is, seem a little less impressive when you see them outside that same gathering screaming 'philistines!' at those going inside. None-the less, I still enjoyed the film, and there's no question it does a good job exposing the fact that many of our biggest public trusts and charitable institutions have a lot going on besides 'acting in the public interest', and are willing to play dirty pool to get what they want. I just find it hard to see this as a case of moral outrage to rank with the Iraq war, or starving children, or the U.S. educational crisis. It's basically rich people hating on rich people. Fun, but not as nutritious as all that.

MartinHafer While this is not always true, often you can tell a documentary is good because it has a strong visceral effect. As I watched "The Art of the Steal", I had this effect...in spades. And, like a good documentary, it definitely swayed me over to their cause. Convincing the viewer of a cause is definitely what this film does.The film is about the Barnes Foundation. I knew little about it other than my daughter ADORES the place and tried to take me their recently--only to learn its been closed while the collection is begin relocated...but I am getting ahead of myself...Dr. Albert C. Barnes was a very rich man who was one of the earliest collectors of Post-impressionist paintings. While museums were still emphasizing classical paintings, Barnes was snatching up Renoirs, Van Goghs and Cezannes in order to build a very, very strong collection. However, Barnes had an unusual vision. He wanted to create his foundation--sort of like an art school and art gallery. But, he disliked the traditional sort of museum and created a truly unique sort of gallery. And, when he died, he set up an extremely detailed trust that outlined exactly what would happen to his collection in perpetuity. The paintings, now seen as the preeminent collection in the world of its type, were not allowed to be sold, loaned out or moved in any way. Barnes wanted his collection to stay the way it was forever. And, considering it was his collection, he certainly had a right to this.The like of Barnes and creation of the Foundation is all discussed in the first portion of the documentary. What follows is a gradual erosion of the trust--how over the years folks have worked hard to break up or change Barnes' VERY specific and exceptionally clear instructions. First, there was a guy named Glanton. Being a lawyer, you know that he hasn't a soul. His aim was to exploit the collection--sending it on traveling exhibitions and raising money--things the charter forbade. I thoroughly disliked the man as portrayed in the film--especially since, unless it was misrepresented, he was a race-baiter who used ridiculous allegations of racism to bully the neighbors surrounding the Barnes. But, as it turned out, he was a downright saint compared to the folks who followed...and their plans were to pretty much destroy that which Barnes worked so hard to create.I guess my reason for such a strong visceral reaction is that the film made me mad. The notion that the government or a powerful city bullying and using lawsuits to get their way is un-American--or at least that's how it seems to me. If you want to see exactly why I became so infuriated, see the film. Perhaps you'll see the problems with the Barnes differently--as for me, I sure found myself agreeing wholeheartedly with the filmmakers.

classicalsteve Matisse said the Barnes House was the only sane place in America to view art.Once upon a time, a century and a half ago, a few unknown artists in France had a new vision of painting and visual art. They painted in a style that was an affront to the art establishment which largely dismissed them and their work. They were mostly excluded from the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture in Paris because their works did not invoke a kind of idealism that "the powers that be" felt should be in art. They won no prizes for their efforts, and they had to create their own galleries and exhibition venues. But there was one American art collector, a little-known medical scientist who helped develop cures for gonorrhea and venereal disease, who had an eye for modern art. He used the money he made from his cures to acquire paintings by these mavericks that no one else wanted. At the time, they were quite attainable. So, the doctor-scientist begin amassing a collection of these artworks sensing a value and aesthetic in them that most of art connoisseurship had dismissed. But later that would change.Today, these unknowns and mavericks are household names: Czanne, Matisse, Picasso, Renoir, Monet, Manet, and Van Gogh, and their work is what we now call "impressionism" and "post-impressionism". The man who acquired so many of these works was the late Albert Barnes (1872-1951). He amassed a collection in the early 20th century that makes even the Louvre shake their head in envy. The collection boasts more Renoirs than the entire nation of France! In the current art market, the collection is worth far more than he ever could have paid for them at the time he acquired most of them, reportedly between 25 and 35 billion dollars US (2010). In all likelihood, not even the Louvre or the Metropolitan Museum of Art could afford to buy the entire collection at market value. What we're talking about here is a priceless collection. But instead of donating the collection to a museum, Barnes decided to create a kind of educational institution with the collection as its focus. He arranged the paintings in an unconventional manner that matched like-quality and like-inspiration rather than by stylistic period, which is the norm in most museums. This way students could see a painting from the Impressionists period next to a Rembrandt, and understand the similarities.Barnes died in 1951 and left what he thought was an iron-clad Will to keep the paintings in the Barnes' house and maintain the same arrangement for his school. It was essentially kept that way until the death of the first Trustee head who died in 1988. Now the Barnes Collection appears to be destined for the City of Philadelphia housed in a new museum, something it sounds like he never would have wanted. "The Art of the Steal" chronicles the myriad lawsuits and wheeling-dealings that destroyed the integrity of one man's unique vision of his art and collection. According to the documentary, the paintings will be moved into a museum for the tourist crowd rather than maintaining his wishes for an art school.Most of the "talking heads" of the documentary are those opposed to the relocation of the collection, which makes the documentary rather lopsided in that direction. However, it is interesting that many people involved in the actual deal, the new Board Members of the Trustees of the Barnes Foundation, refused to be interviewed. In other interviews and statements outside the documentary, they claim to honor Barnes' desires as outlined in his Will. But they refused to be interviewed for the documentary which begs the question, if they have nothing to hide, why not let the chips fall where they may, including the current head of the Trustees, Dr. Bernard C. Watson? And if they have the facts on their side, why did they exclude the filmmakers from attending a press conference? Whether mostly accurate or inaccurate, there is one person you can't so easily dismiss: former NAACP chairman Julian Bond. Bond is one of the most level-headed people on the planet and not prone to extremism. When he sees this as a plundering of a great collection, I am bound to listen. It sounds like the vision of the collection for art students is being thrown away in favor of tourism. The only advocate for the collection's relocation who appears on camera is the Governor of Pennsylvania, who speaks at length about the advantages for Philadelphia, saying it was a "no-brainer". Of course. Honoring the Will of a dead art collector who won't be contributing to any political campaigns pales in comparison to the big-wig moneyed forces that wanted the collection moved. But never once in the interview does the Governor say he's doing it in the best interest of the wishes of Barnes. He's doing what's in the best interests of his political future is the message.Former President of the Trustees, Richard Glanton, appears to be the where the trouble started. He makes no bones about having made all kinds of deals regarding the collection which seems served more Glanton than the wishes of Barnes. He authorized a tour of the works worldwide. Certainly, people should be able to see the collection, but would have Albert Barnes approved of this?The only shortcoming of the documentary I felt was again the lack of a narrator. There were many facts I wanted to know more about that were not covered by the interviewees, particularly stories about from whom and from where he acquired many of these paintings. Still a fascinating account of a very controversial subject. Should the paintings be accessible to a greater public? Yes. But should the integrity of the collection be compromised for this goal? I leave that up to the viewer.