Somewhere in the picturesque region of Lake Como stands an impressive mansion, to which art critic and writer James Figueras (Claes Bang) has been summoned to meet with the rambunctious Joseph Cassidy (Sir Mick Jagger), a world-renowned art dealer and collector who has a reputation for wanting only the finest works in his expansive collection. Accompanying our protagonist is Berenice Hollis (Elizabeth Debicki), a mysterious young woman he has recently come to know, but is already quite taken by her, due to her extensive knowledge of art, as well as her appreciation for his particular brand of artistic curiosity. The reason for Cassidy’s meeting was to make a simple request to James – on the outskirts of the estate is a small cottage, with the occupant being Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland), an enigmatic artist who has taken on the status of a recluse, particularly after a fire at a gallery caused most of his artworks to be destroyed. Cassidy enjoys knowing that he is the owner of rare pieces, and knowing that the artist is not producing at the scale at which he was before, instructs James to make the acquaintance of Debney, under the guise of conducting an interview, and when he has gained enough trust to be out of the artist’s sight, steal one of his artworks, since Cassidy is well-aware of the finite nature of human expression, and would like to own a piece before the notoriously aloof creative genius passes on. In exchange, James will receive considerable financial compensation, as well as the promise of rising to the top of the world of art journalism, which is a very alluring prospect. As a result, James and Berenice have quite a challenging task ahead of them – and it doesn’t help that Debney himself isn’t as senile as they’ve been led to believe, being extremely quick-witted and aware of their intentions, which he channels into a series of foreboding discussions with the two people who are desperate to earn his trust just long enough to accomplish their mission.

The premise of The Burnt Orange Heresy is one that could’ve only have been conceived on the pages of some wildly peculiar pulp novel, the kind written by Charles Willeford, who had put together such a vivid and complex tale of artistic expression, which has now been turned into a deceptively charming psychological thriller that is brimming with the kind of sophistication normally reserved for only the finest European dramas. Giuseppe Capotondi directed an absolutely masterful adaptation of the novel, composing an art heist in the same way one would expect a grand opera to come into existence, through getting to the very visceral core of human desire, and expressing it through allegory and motif, which is evident in every frame of this film. The Burnt Orange Heresy is a film that barely registered with audiences, despite being one of the most brilliantly subversive dramas of the past year, a delightfully twisted combination of dark comedy, erotic romance (albeit not necessarily of the flesh, being more akin to the desire of something more metaphysical), and complex crime thriller. Undeniably one of the most pleasant cinematic surprises from the last year, and an absolutely staggering look into the artistic process that dares to ask some incredibly provocative questions that don’t always have the answers we’re looking for, The Burnt Orange Heresy is a fascinating film, and a considerable effort from a journeyman director who is gradually working his way through the industry, directing smaller productions that all hint at something larger on the horizon – and with this film, Capotondi seemed to be making his first legitimate step to consolidating himself as a director to watch, which is certainly quite clear in every frame of this stunning, terrifying thriller.

For the casual viewer of recent arthouse films, you’d think that Claes Bang had personal experience working in the realm of art criticism, since this is the second major film in which we see the esteemed actor taking on the role of a notable figure in the world of art (after his magnetic performance in Ruben Östlund’s The Square, the performance that introduced Bang to most of the world, and set him on this path to becoming one of the most interesting European actors working today), in this instance, playing a world-renowned art critic and academic, called to sacrifice his morals for the sake of furthering his own career. Bang is such a captivating presence on screen, holding our attention with his very distinct talents that make him an incredibly striking actor that can make us believe absolutely anything (which is, in essence, the entire purpose of this film, and his character in particular). As the failed artist who had to turn to criticism, a common trope when it comes to fiction that looks at the lives of those who work as critics, Bang is just extraordinary – while it’s not a performance that can be considered particularly flamboyant or boisterous, with most of it remaining internal, there is still so much in terms of intricate character detail and meaningful development that comes from the simmering complexity with which James is put together. Elizabeth Debicki is a formidable screen-partner, rising above the tropes of the femme fatale to deliver a strikingly fascinating portrayal of a woman who doesn’t realize how her curiosity can get her into a dangerous situation. Donald Sutherland, who always commits to his roles, regardless of their intention, is magnetic as the elusive artist who serves as the curator of the central mystery – and whether through his grinning soliloquies, or vaguely deceptive moments of silence, Sutherland is proving why he is one of his generation’s finest actors, dedicating everything to playing a role that could’ve easily have been just a bundle of mysterious quirks, but is instead repurposed as a fully-formed, complex character.

In a film such as The Burnt Orange Heresy, there’s a lot of value in the casting of actors who can balance the material, and while it may be something of a motley crew (with music legend Mick Jagger thrown in as well), the film does surprisingly well with all of them. They’re each committing fully to evoking the mysteries of the film, and rather than fading into the gorgeous Italian scenery that surrounds them (a common occurrence for films that tend to use the beauty of Europe as a storytelling tool), they’re actively involved in bringing out the intimate nature of the story. If we were to condense all the themes of The Burnt Orange Heresy into a single question, it would probably be along the lines of “what makes art?”, which provokes the question of whether only one who has been confirmed as an artist can be considered to be producing art, or if the process of simply putting pen to paper (or rather, paint to canvas), results in one becoming an artist. It’s a vaguely convoluted concept that makes more sense through Capotondi beautiful handling of the novel, than it does as an academic theory, which is essentially what The Burnt Orange Heresy was trying to take aim at, dismantling the common conceptions of what constitutes art, and what is simply colours on a canvas, which normally goes down to the person on the other end of the paintbrush, and their status in the world of artistic expression. Asking the question “what is art”, another provocative concept that the film makes sure that we’re aware of, is certainly not something that can be answered easily, but it doesn’t prevent the film from trying, which is amongst the many merits that can be found in The Burnt Orange Heresy, a film so thoroughly committed to taking apart the entire artistic process, it even dares to take on the idea that praising artists is akin to worshipping false prophets, since what they tend to preach may seem to appeal to us on a superficial level, but the exact process that went into the creation of their work is sometimes far darker and more sinister than we could ever imagine.

Executed with the same kind of earnest confidence and curiosity as a literary work,  The Burnt Orange Heresy has a complexity that tends to linger, replaying itself in the viewer’s mind as we attempt to decode the numerous mysteries that underpin the film. It very clearly doesn’t reveal any of the answers to the more difficult and abstract questions, leaving us without a solution, which can be frustrating at first, but flourishes into a series of delightful internal conversations we have with ourselves long after the film has ended. This all comes from the other major theme of the film, that of questioning the nature of truth. The Burnt Orange Heresy is far from the first film that centres on forgery and the volatile nature of the world of art (it makes for a terrific complement to Orson Welles’ masterful pseudo-documentary, F for Fake), but it is one of the more interesting, since the foreboding tone, carefully-calibrated tension and unwillingness to reveal too much, makes for an enigmatic work that puts the viewer right at the centre of this world, passively observing the disintegration of some sacred concepts, which Capotondi seems all too eager to challenge, since it is essentially taking on the very nature of art in the sense that it is a boundary between fiction and reality. The final act of The Burnt Orange Heresy is one of the most sinister of the past few years, not only because it deals with concepts such as murder and arson, but also through its gradual deterioration of reality, or how we perceive it. This film is demonstrating that art isn’t necessarily the objective buffer between an artist and the world around them, but can also serve a deeper psychological purpose that the majority of us may never even get a slight glimpse into, since there is an ambigious space between the artist’s mental state, and the physical manifestations of these existential quandaries, that we’ll simply never know. This is what the director is provoking, which proves to be the most intimidating aspect of the entire film, since it exceeds the confines of the particular story, and causes the viewer to drastically change our own understanding of art, which isn’t an easy feat to accomplish. 

The Burnt Orange Heresy is the kind of film that makes you want to dive deep into the world of art theory, digging into the various nuances and idiosyncrasies of the world of creativity and unravelling the various mysteries that come apart through the process. Beautifully-made, and crafted with an elegance and mastery that places Giuseppe Capotondi at the forefront of a movement towards intelligent thrillers that don’t rely on bold strokes, but rather the small details, in the creation of unforgettable stories that feel real and authentic, while still have some degree of excitement woven into the fabric of the piece, which makes it worthwhile for the viewer. The combination of some incredible performances (particularly those given by Claes Bang and Donald Sutherland), incredible writing and a great deal of sophisticating filmmaking, instantly makes The Burnt Orange Heresy an absolutely worthy contender for a growing canon of socially-charged, independently-minded and artistically-resonant thrillers that have both the brains and the brawn to compete with some of the best in the genre. Composed beautifully, with both the cinematography and production design lending itself to the uneasy grandeur that the film takes full advantage of, and precise in both the message it intends to impart, and the form it takes, The Burnt Orange Heresy is a truly underrated masterpiece that understands its limitations, but isn’t bound by them. Instead, it has a sinister streak that is both striking and poetic, and makes for an unforgettable foray into the darker side of artistic expression, which makes for a truly captivating experience.