“Burnt Orange Heresy” thoughtful thriller
★★★5 Rated R. 98 minutes.
James Figueras is a renowned art critic who pays his bills largely through lectures he gives to tourists in Milan. In one such presentation, he takes his attentive audience through a narrative about a particular painting, one he first suggests is completely lackluster before giving its creation a great deal of compelling context. Now he has convinced his rapt onlookers it is a masterpiece, and when he asks who is interested in buying a print, many hands are thrust into the air. Then he tells them the supposed truth: He created that work, in about 30 minutes. “I single-handedly made you believe that this was a masterpiece,” he says. “You believed — you have to admit it. That, my dear friends, is the power of a critic and why you should be careful with someone like me.” Applause follows. Whether you can trust James (Claes Bang), especially when it comes to matters regarding art, is a key thread in the tapestry of “The Burnt Orange Heresy,” a film given a limited release just before the novel coronavirus-related shutdown that has been showing in a few local Atlas Cinemas locations this week before wider release Friday. “The Burnt Orange Heresy” — directed by Giuseppe Capotondi and scripted by Scott B. Smith, adapting the novel by Charles Willeford — is, for the most part, a smart slice of dramatic cinema that offers some tasty thoughts on the subjectivity surrounding works of art. Those dressings make it easier to forgive the
work when, in its climactic stretch, it leans into thriller tropes you’d previously had reason to believe it would avoid. Still, it’s a cut above much of the fare we’ve been relegated to consuming for months. In the middle of James’ presentation, the ethereal, young Berenice Hollis (Elizabeth Debicki) walks into the room, picks up a copy of his book for sale, “The Power of the Critic,” and flips it over to read about him. When, after his final admission about the painting, he asks if anyone still wants a print, hers is the lone hand raised. They spend the night together, and he invites her to accompany him on a trip to the country estate of a major art dealer, Joseph Cassidy (a delightful, if scenery-chewing Mick Jagger). Neither James nor Cassidy seem to believe Berenice is who and what she says she is — even that her name is Berenice and that she’s truly from Duluth, Minn. We have reason to wonder, too, having previously watched her have a peculiar moment alone staring at herself in James’ bathroom mirror and later eyeing him as he sleeps. Did she just wander into James’ presentation or was she inserting herself into his life with some nefarious intent? And just what should we make of James, who as a child dreamed of one day creating art that would be the focus of major museum exhibitions but who was told by an art teacher years later that he was much better at talking about art than making it? After all, he already has given us reasons to distrust him. While James expected he was being summoned to Cassidy’s to be offered some much-needed work, he was wrong about what it would entail. Cassidy informs James that in a cottage on the estate, a world-famous, highly reclusive artist, Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland), is living and, apparently, creating. With a lifetime of Debney’s works having been lost years earlier in a fire at his Paris studio, Cassidy is obsessed with acquiring a Debney. He sees James as a mean to that end and makes him an offer that would be quite difficult for the critic to refuse. As fun as Rolling Stones frontman Jagger is in his handful of scenes, it’s a complete delight to spend time with Sutherland (“Ad Astra”) as the thoughtful — and regretful — artist. Debney takes a shine to Berenice, and the pair spend some time together in some enjoyably low-key scenes, time that allows James to snoop about unencumbered. Debicki (“Widows”) gives a really nice performance, as well, considering we’re not sure how much we — and James — should trust her for much of the affair. Meanwhile, Bang — a Danish actor with recent roles in “The Affair” and “Dracula” — is terrific, never going over the top with James even though the character is relatively paranoid and doing his best to hide the severity of his pill-popping habit. While he does allow “The Burnt Orange Heresy” — a title that will make increasing sense as the story progresses — run off the rails a bit down the stretch, Capotondi (“Berlin Station”) does solid if not spectacular work behind the camera. To his credit, at least one early scene that feels as though it may be a red herring makes a bit more sense once you have seen the entire film. Regardless of how interested you are in the power of a critic or exactly what makes worthwhile art, “The Burnt Orange Heresy” is an engaging drama. While not a masterpiece, it doesn’t feel anything like something that was quickly thrown together like James’ painting. Of course, that’s just one critic’s opinion. Trust it at your peril.