In the world of high-stakes heists and intricate schemes, "The Thomas Crown Affair" stands out as a film that artfully intertwines suspense and sophistication. At its heart, this cinematic masterpiece delves into the seductive world of art collecting, offering a tantalizing glimpse into the mind of a connoisseur who blurs the lines between admiration and acquisition. Through the lens of Thomas Crown, we explore the magnetic pull of priceless masterpieces and the thrill of curating an enviable art collection, where each piece is a testament to both aesthetic appreciation and audacious ambition. His art collection is all we aspire to, and while it appears to be chock full of blue chip impressionists (classic Wall Street collector move), each artwork highlighted is a thoughtful inclusion by the director/studio/writer.
WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS! GO WATCH THE MOVIE -- and shame on you for not doing so already:)
Rene Magritte, Son of Man (1946)
On their first date, Catherine sees this painting and jokingly asks Crown: “Did you have to sit long for the artist?” One of the most recognizable works of art in modern art history, Son of Man always reminds me of Robin Williams' music video in Toys, but I digress. Here’s what the artist says: “The apple, hiding the visible, the face of the person. It’s something that happens constantly. Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see.”
So Crown pays homage to this work in the elaborately choreographed museum chase at the end of the film, during which he is dressed as the faceless businessman in the bowler hat. With the assistance of hundreds of actors in identical outfits, he leads the police on a wild goose chase while attempting to return the stolen Monet. Jokes on everyone, though, seeing as the stolen painting was painted over with a Pissarro forgery (see below) and loaned to the museum by the ever philanthropic Thomas Crown as a placeholder for the stolen work.
Camille Pissarro, 'The Artist's Garden at Eragny' (1898)
Loaned by Crown to the Museum as a placeholder for the stolen Monet.
Pissarro’s work is known to celebrate the here and now, paintings every day scenes, like this one, of his own garden. Most impressionists painted the middle and upper classes but Pissarro was always sympathetic to ordinary working people like the woman depicted here. At its unveiling, everyone is so impressed with what turns out to be a forgery. Is Crown poking fun at the Met experts/trustees—i.e. the elitist art world—with this faux Pissarro?
Vincent Van Gogh, Noon: Rest from Work (after Millet)(1890)
Crown’s self proclaimed favorite work serves as his alibi. Crown shows zero interest in the blockbuster Monet, the subject of the film, focusing only on his “Haystacks” when a guard suggests he take notice of the Monet. Is Crown simply establishing his alibi for the crime he is about to commit? Or has he succeeded in developing his artistic tastes past the point of “buying with his ears” as many wealthy collectors are inclined to do. It’s not their fault, though. Art can be a status symbol, so why wouldn’t a wealthy bachelor want the most talked about painting in the museum. Turns out he does, but his motivations are surprising.
Claude Monet, San Giorgio Maggiore by Twilight (1908)
“It’s worth a hundred million bucks,” says a teacher to her bored class on field trip in the film. Immediately they come to attention. Even our kids are blinded by dollar signs.
The $100 million star of The Thomas Crown Affair, “San Giorgio Maggiore by Twilight” by Monet actually exists in more than one version and depicts the the monastery/island of San Giorgio Maggiore. Like many works by Monet, this one is indicative of the artist’s exploration of light. Monet, however, considered these works souvenirs of his trip to Venice. So how did this work become the subject of the film? The colors and the light are extraordinary, to be sure, but maybe this piece represents Crown’s own obsession with souvenirs. He could easily buy many of these works, but his art thefts are trophies, and eventually we watch him bore of the chase. Or maybe it’s just because Monet sounds like “money”…
Christian Vincent, Certain Uncertainties (1997)
Christian Vincent is not nearly as famous as the other artists in the Crown collection, which may be a nod to Crown’s varied aesthetic and a desire to collect mid-level artists. Personally, I think this work was included to allude to Catherine’s slow gain of power over Crown, as evidenced by a strong highlighted female subject with a smaller dark male figure behind. After all, we only catch a glimpse of this painting during the steamiest of sex scenes.
C.M. Coolidge, "Poker Sympathy"
The “ghost” painting under the forged Monet found in Crown’s house. Upon realizing the forgery, Catherine utters what could be the best line of the film: “Where is he? Where is that sack of shit right now?!”
Everyone knows Dogs Playing Poker, right? Hardly a serious work, this piece is actually one of a series of nine paintings the artist did of this subject. It was originally painted to advertise cigars but has been reproduced excessively in pop culture (hence why you probably recognize it). Again, we see Crown play tricks with his artwork, infuriating those in his hot pursuit. Although maybe he should have held on to this one: another similar work of dogs playing poker actually sold at Sotheby’s for $658,000....
Edouard Manet, "The Banks of the Seine at Argenteuil (1874)
The painting chosen as Catherine's favorite—eventually stolen at the end of the film, but we never find out how…
A remarkable example of plein-air Impressionism (where a painter works outside to reproduce the actual visual conditions seen at the time of the painting), this painting evokes a peaceful, idyllic atmosphere, capturing a moment of tranquility along the Seine in the Paris suburb of Argenteuil, a city offering a blend of natural beauty and modernity, embodying the transition from rural to urban life. This is the work that Catherine selects when asked by Crown which she would steal for herself. Catherine is a complex character, incredibly savvy albeit guarded. Perhaps this selection, which at first seems mundane, speaks to her yearning for a simpler life with less drama and emotional baggage. A life Crown too discovers he’d be content with. In therapy, Crown admits that “a woman could trust me, as long as her interests did not run too contrary to my own.” Crown’s theft of “The Banks of the Seine at Argenteuil” is an offering, proof to Catherine that he can and will align his interests with hers.
What it comes down to is that this movie, with all its priceless artworks, isn’t about the money at all. What starts as a cat and mouse game between a wealthy financier and a globetrotting, effortlessly chic insurance investigator, turns into a story of self-realization for both of them, and the artwork is certainly reflective of that. The buying lesson we learn here is that Crown's collection is a expression of his character, as should yours be of you. He collects what he loves, not what he's told to love. So go do the same with your collection.