Owen Gleiberman Chief Film CriticYou could say, going back to Hitchcock or the silent-film era, that the thriller is the quintessential form of cinema.
You could also say that the quintessential moment of a thriller is one that makes you go “Oh. My. God.” When that happens (kind of a rare occurrence these days), it’s a privileged and intoxicating feeling, one that lifts you right out of yourself.
Recently, though, I’ve been experiencing that sensation in what may sound like a highly unlikely place: documentaries about the art world.In a way, it’s not really a surprise.
Art-world documentaries often tap into the human audacity of forgery and thievery, the suspense of finding and unmasking fakes, not to mention the sheer sticker shock of it all. (In 2019, when Jeff Koons’ three-foot-tall silver bunny rabbit sold at auction for $91 million, you could call that sticker shock and thievery.) But I’ve also found that an art-world doc that has the quality of a thriller, like “The Lost Leonardo” or “The Price of Everything,” might open with an outrageous or even criminal situation, but what’s every bit as jaw-dropping is the rabbit hole of reality and illusion you then then find yourself tumbling down.
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