The film is inspired by a true story: the rediscovery of Egon Schiele’s Sunflowers in the early 2000s. A young factory worker from Mulhouse finds, hanging on a wall and blackened by decades of coal heating, a painting he assumes is merely a decorative piece. After expert evaluation, the truth emerges: it is a major work, looted by the Nazis from Karl Grünwald, a Jewish Viennese collector and friend of the artist.

In the film, André Masson (Alex Lutz), an auctioneer at the Scottie’s auction house — a transparent reference to Christie’s — receives a letter from a provincial lawyer (Nora Hamzawi) informing him of the discovery. Thus begins a race where passion for art, greed, and legal complexity intertwine.

The true story of The Sunflowers illustrates the tragic fate of thousands of artworks during World War II. Karl Grünwald, an art dealer who did everything during World War I to keep Schiele away from the front lines, owned an exceptional collection. When the Anschluss occurred in 1938, he managed to escape Austria with a truck carrying fifty of his most valuable paintings. However, in 1940, as a refugee in France, he was caught by the advancing Nazi forces: the painting was confiscated, sold in 1942, and then disappeared into the depths of the art market.

Its reappearance in 2004 sent shockwaves through the art world. Thomas Seydoux, director of the Impressionist and Modern Art department at Christie's France, and Andreas Rumbler, director of Christie's Germany, authenticated the work. The Alsatian owner, upon learning of the painting's looted origin, immediately agreed to return it to Grünwald's heirs—a remarkable moral gesture in a world often driven by money.

But it’s what happened next that truly revealed the international scale of this case: The Sunflowers were auctioned in London at Christie's on June 20, 2006. Estimated between 4 and 6 million pounds, the painting ultimately sold for 11.7 million pounds (17.2 million euros), nearly breaking the record for a Schiele set in 2003. This London auction was not insignificant: it highlights the central role of the United Kingdom in the international art market, and, most importantly, its ability to address complex provenance issues.

In France, the 1949 decree established a revolutionary principle: the imprescriptibility of claims for artworks looted between 1933 and 1945. In concrete terms, there is no time limit for heirs to claim a stolen artwork, even eighty years after the fact. This principle overrides the protection of the good-faith buyer— restitution takes precedence, regardless of any subsequent transactions.

The United Kingdom has taken a more pragmatic approach. In 2000, it created the Spoliation Advisory Panel  to advise the government on restitution claims. Then, in 2009, the Holocaust (Return of Cultural Objects) Actauthorized seventeen national institutions to return cultural objects looted between 1933 and 1945. Originally limited to ten years, this law was extended indefinitely in 2019,  reflecting the ongoing importance of these issues. This British flexibility helps explain why London has become a central hub for the sale of artworks with complex histories. The British art market benefits from clear legislation, renowned institutions like Christie’s and Sotheby’s, and highly developed provenance expertise. The sale of Schiele’s Sunflowers in London rather than Paris is no coincidence: it illustrates the British system’s ability to handle these sensitive cases while maintaining market fluidity.

The Stolen Painting highlights the delicate position of the auctioneer, portrayed by Alex Lutz.  Between the good-faith buyer, the seller unaware of the artwork’s origin, and the descendants of spoliation victims — who can legitimately claim ownership? Under Article L321-17 of the French Commercial Code and the professional code of ethics, the auctioneer must exercise a heightened duty of diligence. However, the greatest legal challenge in such cases remains the burden of proof. Heirs must demonstrate that their ancestor truly owned the artwork, that it was indeed looted (and not sold voluntarily), and that they are the legitimate heirs. This is often extremely difficult to prove eighty years later: archives have disappeared, witnesses have died, and forced transactions sometimes resembled legal sales.

Hence the crucial role of provenance researchers — real historical detectives who reconstruct the trajectory of artworks across decades. In the case of The Sunflowers, experts traced the painting back to Karl Grünwald through exhibition records (its last public appearance was in summer 1937 at the Jeu de Paume in Paris) and Nazi looting archives.

The Stolen Painting demonstrates that the law, however precise, cannot resolve every dilemma. What happens when the current seller inherited the piece from a grandparent who bought it in good faith in the 1950s? When the artwork has changed hands several times since the original theft? When all documents proving original ownership were destroyed during the war? Such situations create conflicts between competing legitimacies. On one side, the moral right of victims and their descendants; on the other, the stability of transactions and the protection of innocent purchasers. Bonitzer’s film does not take sides — it exposes these tensions and leaves the audience to ponder questions that have no simple answers.

A particularly striking scene shows the young worker from Mulhouse, played by Arcadi Radeff, hesitating to sell the painting: “I don’t want to get rich with money stained by blood.” Grünwald’s heirs ultimately agreed to share the profits from the sale with the young Alsatian, recognizing that he too had acted in good faith — a pragmatic solution to an insoluble problem.

The Stolen Painting reminds us that these issues are far from belonging to the past. Even today, hundreds of looted artworks circulate on the art market, hidden behind falsified or incomplete provenances. European cooperation is growing stronger: the European Network of Restitution Committees, created in 2019, brings together the systems in Germany, Austria, France, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom.

By tackling these subjects, cinema helps raise public awareness of these matters. For behind every stolen painting lies a human story — that of families dispossessed and waiting for justice for decades. As Pascal Bonitzer beautifully puts it: “In the film, only the canvas never lies. Unflinching, Schiele’s *Sunflowers* survive the deepest degradations of humanity.”

The record-breaking sale in London in 2006, therefore, is not merely a commercial achievement: it represents the international art market’s acknowledgment of both the artistic value of the work and the moral rights of its rightful owners — a victory of art over barbarism, of justice over oblivion.

Written by Eléanor Merlé and translated by Marianthi Dimou

To go further on our month file dedicated to the art market, you can read our society and international relations sections’ articles on our blog.

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