The Fake (1953) is a nice little whodunit centering around a da Vinci painting that is the target of a gang of art thieves. They’re trying to get around American private detective Paul Mitchell, assigned by the da Vinci owner to watch over it. The thieves are clever, using head fakes to get Mitchell’s attention, and then stealing it when he bites.
It doesn’t help that the Tate Gallery in London, where this is all going on, happens to employ a beautiful young woman who’s smart, writes books on art, and has an eccentric father who happens to paint as well – in fact, very well, indeed. Which all leads up to the question: where do Mitchell’s interests lie, and how deep in is the father?
Unfortunately, this little thriller doesn’t pursue these sorts of questions very deeply, which leads up to a fairly surprising ending. But it’s all fun, unless you’re an Arts type who profoundly objects to how the da Vinci is being displayed at the Tate – ignoring much of the story in the outrage.
So, in the end, it’s more or less fluffy, but fun.
