The Theft of the Mona Lisa

The German films of the early thirties continued the distinction that the country's silent films had established and this is one of the best, imaginative and original.

Incensed that one of Italy's National treasures is held in a foreign museum, window repair man Forst determines to repatriate it. His method is stunningly low tech - setting the guard a chess problem and moving the painting in plain sight.

This is elaborated with remarkably assured use of the still limited European sound technique - passages of dialogue recorded in interiors and mute exterior shooting, including Paris locations, the musical theme passed on in different forms like the one in LOVE ME TONIGHT, the alternation of dialogue and music along with excellent performance and curious concepts like Forst identifying Von Mollo with his beloved painting.

The film is so good that one is left wondering about the other work done around it, and equally unfamiliar, outside German speaking areas.

The sympathies reflected do sit uneasily with our knowledge of the consequences of the alliances they represented but that's no surprise.

Willi Forst works at an art shop. He's called on to cover the Mona Lisa with glass to prevent its degradation. It's just another job, until he gets to look at the painting close up, then handle it, and then he's in love. He buys a copy and hangs it in his room. He spots Trude von Molo, a chambermaid, and is struck by her resemblance to the painting, and makes a play for her. He is neither rich nor famous, so she says no. So Forst decides to do something big: steal the real painting.

It's based on the real theft of the Mona Lisa in 1910. Before then, it wasn't the most famous painting in the world, just another well-regarded example of Leonardo da Vinci's work. Its theft made it famous, and rumors went about that it had been stolen by agents of J. P. Morgan or the Kaiser.

It makes a pleasant, mild comedy. Director Géza von Bolváry cannily does without much dialogue; Forst doesn't say a word until a dozen minutes in, even though others do, His silence gives him an air of anomie, and forces the audience to concentrate on his performance, and the moment he falls in love with the painting.

The real thief of the Mona Lisa, Vicenzo Peruggia, spent eight months in prison for the theft. Then the Great War broke out and everyone forgot about it, except that the Mona Lisa was now the most famous painting in the world.