Incognito

The stolen painting by Rembrandt van Rijn,

newly discovered only last week, continues to elude police.

A massive manhunt has been mounted for the murderer of noted

Japanese art collector Tumado Agachi.

Police have issued warnings to be on the lookout for an American,

Harry Donovan, believed to be the chief suspect in the case.

According to Chief Inspector Deeks of the Metropolitan police,

Mr. Donovan is said to have seized

the painting in an argument with Mr. Agachi, who was then shot

and killed as Mr. Donovan escaped with the priceless work of art.

Highland , mid-20th century, permanent collection, Koonst Haus, Munich.

Study of Aileen , mid-19th century,

permanent collection, Cambridge Institute of Fine Arts.

The Flowered Mine , privately owned, on permanent loan

to the Bergen National Gallery. Boulevard of Peasants , late 19th century.

-And, uh, The Ice Cream Man. -Yes, yes, that's great. Thank you, John.

I think we've seen enough.

So, every single one of these copies

-were done by the same man. -No. Excuse me. They're not copies.

They're all quite original but they are all fakes.

-Ah, remarkable. -And all painted by the same man.

Harry Donovan.

-Why haven't we heard of him before? -Because he's clever.

He doesn't do big names like Leonardo or Van Gogh.

It's always third or fourth tier names that don't attract attention.

He flies under the radar.

Well... he's amazing.

Well, you asked for the best and he's considered

-to be the best in the world. -Which leaves just one final question.

Where do we find him?

Hey, enjoy yourself.

Darling, you've made it.

And you promise to buy some paintings,

-okay? -All right.

Joy, nice to see you. You're looking well. You're looking great.

Harry, what are you doing here?

-I got something for you. -You're kidding.

-Why would I kid you? -No... no, I mean it's... it's marvelous.

Uh, look, uh, I've got a gallery full of people, uh.

-Is there any way we can do this tomorrow? -No. I'm busy tomorrow.

You want this or not?

Yeah, okay.

It's beautiful.

-Exquisite. -Yeah.

You know, Harry, your fakes are always better, aren't they?

-Maybe that's part of your problem. -No.

Part of my problem is I like my money.

-Here. Maybe you want to count it. -No. I trust you.

Hey, could you do another one for me?

-Harry? -No.

Why?

Cause I'm doing my own stuff...

-and because you lied. -What?

You lied.

-We said 3,500. -No, you said 3,500. I said 4,000,

And since I know you're gonna turn it for 90.

Hey, look-- Hey, look, uh, wait. Wait. Okay, here.

Okay?

Hey, if you have anything else, call me, okay?

Hey, Picasso... where's my rent?

-Oh, live it up, Trump. Is that it? -Yeah.

-You're late. -Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm gonna have to bill you for the hour I've been waiting.

I'll give you 50 for the wait.

Are you ready?

Oh, forget it.

-What? -I'm finished.

We haven't even started.

Do you want to work later?

Please leave.

Harry Donovan, I presume.

We deal primarily in 20th century artists.

Now, one of our clients, a private collector from Korea--

Hey. Not very polite.

From Korea, recently made a number of purchases from us.

-They were minor works by modern masters. -So, what?

So, my client's retained me to find an important work by an old master.

Well, is there any other kind?

As you can imagine, there's very little available to buy.

Most old masters are locked away

in the permanent collections of a few museums.

Well, you got a big problem there. Good luck to you and good-bye.

We're here because we want the best.

And we're prepared to pay for it.

-Fifty-thousand dollars, U.S. -You speak English?

-Against 500,000 on delivery. -Five-hundred-thousand dollars for what?

Mr. Donovan... I want you to paint me a Rembrandt.

But only Rembrandt can paint Rembrandt.

Yes, well, under the circumstances, can you help me?

-No. -Why not?

Because with modern testing it's almost impossible. That and... Hey!

I'm not a shoemaker. I don't deal with slobs off the street.

I work with people that I know. You can leave now.

-It's a circular problem. -Now, do I have to knock your ass

down the stairs?

No, no... no. Gentlemen.

Um, we'll be staying at the Carlyle until Sunday.

-Think it over. -Watch your fingers.

Never heard of them. It's an Alistair Davies, an Iain Ill.

La Salle gallery.

They... they're big art dealers. You're in some pretty fancy company.

Well, they want me for a job.

Rembrandt.

Oh. Rembrandt, huh?

-I'm moving up in the world. -Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Think I shouldn't do it?

It's not a question of shouldn't.

The question is that you promised me you were gonna get rid

of this forgery shit. That's the point.

Yeah, well, these guys are real art lovers and 500,000 is a nice round number,

sol...

Can I ask you a question?

What about your own show? Remember that?

"My own show."

What the hell do you want?

I'd like to see an original Harry Donovan hanging in the Prado, one day.

Oh, shit. Not in your lifetime.

But yet I can sit down for Christ sakes. I'm not a child.

Ah, now...

the... the Prado, in my opinion is maybe...

the greatest art gallery in the world.

All the world goes to Madrid to see the Prado and the only way

you're gonna hang in that place is if you're dead.

I mean, Rembrandt even had to be dead.

Then, I'll have to settle for five days on the beach in Puerto Rico.

What would you do with a half million dollars, dad?

That's not the point.

You don't think I can do it.

-No, no. That's not the point. -Five-hundred-thousand dollars

-is the point. -No, it isn't!

I'll tell you what the point is! Maybe it's my fault.

-Maybe I should have told you sooner. -Hey.

All right, what I'm trying to say is... I don't know.

The point is that Harry Donovan should have gone to Italy,

and he should have looked at Da Vinci. He should have looked at Lippi.

He should have looked at Caravaggio.

He should have looked at sculpture of Donatello.

He should have seen them. He should have done something, right?

You know why you don't? You don't have eyes.

Well, what's going on here, dad? Why are you beating me up?

I'm not beating you up.

I'm just trying to say that even Rembrandt had to study.

-Rembrandt never laid a foot in Italy. -Bullshit.

If there was a... an exhibition of one of the greats

within 100 miles of Amsterdam, Rembrandt was there.

-Well, I'm not Rembrandt, dad. -You're not even Harry Donovan.

-Then, you show me. -What?

I said, you teach me.

Why don't you take me to Italy? You show me all that stuff.

Christ, you're a better painter than I am.

-Oh, no, not anymore. -I get a car, we drive all around Italy.

We'll go to Venice, we'll go to Florence, we'll go to Rome.

Then Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Raphael, all of 'em.

And we'll stay in fancy fucking hotels, those paupers could never afford.

And that's how we do it. And we can do that now.

Dad.

Dad.

-Dad. -I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Here's the number of my account in Zurich.

When the first 50,000 clears, that's when I start.

Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry?

Not unless you know a Rembrandt that's getting restored

anywhere in the world.

One might imagine that-- that would be your job.

Didn't think so. From now on, don't call me. I'll call you.

The age of romanticism raised you to cult status.

The greatest genius ever to put brush to canvas, they called you.

But by the age of reason, they considered you an outcast, your promise unfulfilled.

Chiaroscuro. Light from the dark.

Delacroix said you were greater than Raphael.

Renoir said, "I sniff the gravy. He chews the meat."

And another Dutch painter who had died penniless said you left him staggering.

Vincent said you must have died several times to paint like that.

A case like this, there's only one way to move. Not to make up something new

but to discover something the experts are already expecting someday to discover.

Something recorded but lost.

His most moving paintings were self-portraits.

Like an autobiography, they tell a wordless story,

a story of genius and sorrow.

Now, one of Rembrandt's most famous sketches

is of an old man who appears to be blind.

It's been speculated he did it in preparation for a full oil portrait

and that portrait has never been found. It may not even exist.

But according to the inventory at his bankrupftcy,

Rembrandt sent 2 canvases to Spain by sea.

It's recorded only as a portrait of a man. No name.

We know the dimensions were 92 by 71 centimeters.

We know the price was 800 Dutch florins but the picture disappeared.

Maybe lost at sea, maybe stolen. No one knows.

The trail goes cold, and it's been cold now for 350 years.

Disappeared, how?

Who knows? Lost at sea, burned,

stolen by Napoleon's generals. Nobody knows.

-That's where the trail stops. -The trail stops where?

Somewhere off the Northern coast of Spain.

The only record we have is by Van Oilenberg,

who was the leading Dutch expert at the time.

He saw the painting before it left Holland.

Described it as the most moving portrait he had ever seen.