Forgive this man, found guilty here of collaboration with the enemy.
May God have mercy on your soul.
Amen.
Attention!
Make ready! Aim!
Fire!
- Has it arrived? Is it here? - Last night.
- Jerome, good work on those etchings. - I aim to please.
There's a gift on your desk. Cherries for the family.
I'll try not to eat them before I get home this time. Thank you.
A Dutch Jew with a Canadian uniform.
Captain. Captain Piller.
Who let this one in?
Dekker, this is Minna. Minna, this is Dekker.
- Hello, Minna. Nice to meet you. - Hello.
We used to be in the Resistance together.
Yeah, but he couldn't resist anything without me.
- Working with the Allies now. - Yes.
Everything in here was stolen,
and they put me in charge of finding out who took it
and who sold it to the Nazis.
But I want to avoid interference from the Ministry of Justice
'cause they seem to have their own agenda, and that's why I need you.
I need someone I can trust.
Well, anything for an old friend. But do I have to wear a uniform?
Oh, yeah, it's one of the perks.
This was just found in Göring's hidden collection.
Christ and the Adulteress. It's a Vermeer.
- Vermeer! - And... we found a letter.
Folded in the crate.
I attended a show there once,
had champagne and smoked salmon,
and saw some terrible paintings.
And what Germans did you meet there?
I shook a hand or two.
Those pigs were everywhere. You couldn't avoid them.
I never had that problem.
No, me neither.
I'm a personal friend of Prince Bernhard
and the commander of the Ministry of Justice.
That's very good for you,
but I don't work for the Dutch government who ran off when things got hot.
Dekker, will you please go sit down?
I was commissioned by the Allied Command.
Who will soon relinquish power to the rightful Dutch government.
But not today.
And the more time I waste on you,
the Nazi sympathizers you drank champagne with will slip away.
I'm afraid I must ask you to...
In this letter, the owner of the Goudstikker Gallery
references you in verifying the background of a Vermeer painting...
I don't collect art.
...before Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring agreed to buy it.
Christ and the Adulteress was just recovered from a railway car
in an Austrian salt mine.
Thing about Göring...
he kept meticulous records of all his acquisitions.
So, now, tell me about this letter.
It was a favor.
I had a respectable name.
I simply wrote that I'd vouch for the painting's provenance
to finalize the sale.
Because the painting had been stolen from Jews?
Who was the favor for?
Who brought you the painting?
Han Van Meegeren.
Han Van Meegeren?
Indeed.
I'm Captain Joseph Piller of the Allied Provisional Government.
- Please, come in, gentlemen. - Thank you.
Were you expecting us?
In these times, one expects anything.
Do you play?
No, not anymore.
- May I offer you a drink? - Yes.
No, thanks.
No?
Do you live here all by yourself?
For the time being. I am recently divorced.
This is my wife's house now.
She is in France, and the housekeeper went back to Utrecht.
The war has been good to you, huh?
I was lucky enough to sell a series of Flemish primitives
before hostilities broke out.
So, you're an art dealer?
I am a painter and an art lover.
But, of course, I take my opportunities where I can.
And during the war, what did you do?
Tried to survive, like everybody else.
Running out of champagne must have been devastating.
Oh, not as bad as running out of caviar. Shall we sit?
No, no, we're taking a walk.
Do I need a jacket?
You haven't asked why I'm here.
Well, I find that in life, as in art,
it's always best not to spoil the surprise.
Or maybe it's no surprise at all.
Shall we?
- Do you like Johannes Vermeer? - Of course.
The equal of Rembrandt, superior to Hals,
and only a hair behind Michelangelo and da Vinci.
And this one, Christ and the Adulteress.
How does that rate?
Undoubtedly a masterpiece.
It has his hallmark command of light and color
and yet with a gravitas absent from his more celebrated work.
You take interest in art as well as music?
Oh, no, no, no.
What interests me is that it was sold to Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring
for more than 1.5 million guilders,
which is the largest sum ever paid for a work of art.
Which proves that pigs can sometimes have taste.
Or perhaps too much money.
I've traced the sale back to the Goudstikker Gallery,
through a network of your associates, to you.
I need to know where this Vermeer came from.
Was it from a looted collection? Jews trying to flee Europe?
Mr. Van Meegeren, as you know,
collaboration with the enemy is a capital offense.
They're shooting people in the streets daily.
We all must die sometime.
Although Vermeer, Hals, Bosch, they live forever.
They speak to us across the centuries.
But you're not among those names, are you...
Mr. Van Meegeren?
So, you must have made your fortune some other way.
And what, may I ask, will be your great legacy, Captain Piller?
Putting you and your friends in jail.
Or in a noose.
This is your chance at redemption
and perhaps, more importantly, survival.
And yet I am sensing that perhaps it is you who needs redemption, no?
Put him in solitary.
Single rations. No visitors.
- Finn, want to help me? - Sure, Papa.
- Take these. - Okay.
And they go into these.
Only I can paint the picture that you so desperately want to see.
And what is it that I so desperately want to see?
You want justice against the wicked, yes?
So, you're going to need me.
But I ask a favor. I need my paints. I need my brushes.
- Please, send me home... - I'll have them brought here.
There is no life here, no inspiration.
Do you want inspiration?
What do you need inspiration for if I break your hands?
Piller?
I'm Detective De Klerks.
Ministry of Justice. Long time.
I've heard you snagged a big fish, a Van Meegeren. Is that right?
- Who told you? - Jungle drum, you know.
We need to question him.
We're on the same team. We need to share information.
Are we on the same team?
Last time I handed over a lead, he somehow slipped away.
The old boys' network.
Perhaps they should rename your outfit the Ministry of Convenient Justice.
You and me, we're just foot soldiers.
We don't have to worry about the big picture.
I see. Well, keep your attention on your feet, then.
Excuse me. What were you before the war?
A tailor, right?
I've been a police investigator for 15 years,
and this could be bigger than some paintings.
This Van Meegeren may have helped fund the Abwehr spy ring,
laundering money for the Nazis.
Even more reason your department should stay away from this.
All this bluster and confidence, Piller,
it's a pretty good mask, but you're in over your head here.
Yeah. And you know it.
Actually, I don't need your permission to see Van Meegeren.
I was just being courteous.
This is a joint jurisdiction facility,
and I have a signed order here from the Dutch government
granting me your fish.
So, in fact, we'll take it from here.
Ministry of Justice.
Boys.
Dekker? Dekker!
Get him out.
- Time for exercise. Come on. - What?
- Come on. - Come on.
Get him out of there.
This way.
Hey!
Piller!
Not that I didn't enjoy it, but what the hell did we just do?
De Klerks wants him, but no one takes my fish.
Your fish? How flattering.
Very beautiful, Joe.
Yes.
Well, splendid. I can definitely paint in here.
As long as you're happy...
I'll make a list of my supplies.
My assistant, Cootje, knows where everything is in my studio.
And I'm going to need my whiskey.
I'll get your paints. Forget about the whiskey.
And, please, don't play games with me.
Mr. Dekker here has my permission to break both your legs
if you try and escape.
May I borrow your notepad and pen?
You are going to need to find this man.
Theo Wijngaarden.
Why? Who's he?
He's the most important player in this little game.
Do you want your paints or not?
Yes, and in return, all will be revealed.
I believe Theo should be in Amsterdam. I don't know. But you need to find him.
Don't let him out of your sight.
This is outrageous!
Han Van Meegeren is instrumental to our case. We have every right...
His lackey, De Klerks, tried to steal my prisoner.
Enough.
Where'd you serve in the war?
- Don't see what that has to do with this. - Answer the question.
London. Helping Holland's efforts to the best of my ability.
Get the hell out of my office.
Thank you.
He'll be back. Allied Command is coming to an end.
And Theo Wijngaarden, what about him?
I'll put it out on the wire.
Joe.
Ease up.
You're not going to get every single one of them.
I had a call from the Ministry of Justice.
They're taking you off their Christmas list.
Yeah, we don't have much time.
We need to keep up the search for Theo Wijngaarden.
And let's put more pressure on Van Meegeren.
Maybe I can help.
- You want to have a go at him? - Yeah. I can rough him up a little.
What? I'm not saying it's going to be pretty, but...
And here I was thinking
that you're just a nice, quiet girl from The Hague.
We need to find Van Meegeren's wife.
- Yes. - Right.
- See you tomorrow. - See you tomorrow.
Hello.
Who was that?
That's Minna. That's my assistant.
She's helping me with the Van Meegeren case.
She's very pretty.
Is she? I hadn't noticed.
Must make the long hours so much easier.
Do you want to talk about your long hours during the war?
That's not fair, Joe.
Hey, boys. Looking to buy some art?
We are crazy for art. Love to take a peek at what you have.
Well, we're closed now.
Which means...
take your boy scouts and fuck off.
Tell your tailor he'll be sewing prison uniforms for the next 40 years
when I'm done with him, will you?
Good dog.
Let's go.
Anything else we can get you?
A drink would be nice.
And who's she?
This is my assistant, Cootje Henning.
Cootje, meet my jailer, Joseph.
I have to run.
Next time, I'll try to bring your whiskey.
Yes, if you could.
She's not your assistant, is she? She's your goddamn girlfriend.
Little bit of both.
She brought the paints.
When she took her clothes off, you know, what was I supposed to do?
Miss Henning, wait up. I'd like a word.
I'm late meeting my husband.
Han knows where to find me.
All for art, I assure you.
- We're wasting time, Joe. - No, you're wasting my time.
Theo Wijngaarden can't be found.
I don't imagine you've heard of a painter by the name of Willem Gillisz Kool.
No, I haven't.
Kool created hundreds of beautiful works three centuries ago,
and not one of them is worth the canvas they're painted on.
Listen, I'm not interested in art history.
Vermeer, on the other hand,
paints just over 30 pictures his whole career,
each worth a staggering fortune.
- Do you know why? - No, and I don't care.
You should.
You think you're investigating art, but you're investigating money and power.
Then get on with it.
Somebody decides. A so-called expert, a critic.
They proclaim that this is genius, this is important, this is art.
And so a legend begins and a legend builds.
Wealthy merchants see their chance to become cultured by owning it,
museums fight to put it on their walls, and so it goes, on and on.
When I was a boy, my father used to beat me for painting.
Even though it was the only passion in life I had.
But I took my beatings.
And when I could, I moved away from home to Paris
and I painted even more.
I drank too much, I slept with too few women,
and I eventually went insane.
One very stormy night, about to leap off the Eiffel Tower,
a crack in the heavens opened.
It could have been the absinthe, but I swore I glimpsed the Almighty.
I very quickly came back to Holland,
and in a raging fever of creation, I painted for months without sleep.
Finally, when I collapsed,
I wept for days, beholding my work.
I had captured my soul on canvas, snatched perfection from the gods.
An influential friend immediately arranged an exhibit at the Biesling Gallery.
And the entire community was buzzing
that a new, important artistic voice had risen.
All of Amsterdam was there.
I can still hear the chatter,
smell the perfume of all those beautiful women
who suddenly realized I existed.
The energy was palpable, the critics... unanimous.
They said my ham-fisted attempt at profundity was devoid of emotion,
lacking in vision, utterly without soul.
They not only wanted to destroy me, they wanted to crush my bones into flour.
Why?
I had failed to properly seek their illustrious approval.
So, all my new admirers suddenly vanished and it was over.
Which brings us back to Christ and the Adulteress.
Is music in your blood, Joe?
I'm sure you've had your own Eiffel Tower moment.
Did you not always just want to be a piano player?
Please, Mr. Van Meegeren,
how did you come by the painting?
The same way I came by all of them.
With the help of my friend, Theo.
Theo. Theo Wijngaarden, this mysterious man.
Dirk Hannema will know exactly where he is.
- And help me here, who's Dirk Hannema? - He's a so-called expert.
He's the guiltiest of all of those critics.
He's also the director of the Boijmans Museum in Rotterdam,
which still to this day confounds me.
Well, Dekker, it seems I'm on my way to Rotterdam.
Awe-inspiring, isn't it?
It teaches one the meaning of forgiveness.
Mr. Hannema?
Until I discovered The Supper at Emmaus,
there were just over 30 Vermeers known to be in existence.
They've become the Holy Grails of the 20th century.
If there's any silver lining to this war,
it's that other hidden masterpieces may come to light.
To discover this one was the great accomplishment of my life.
What can I do for you, mister...?
Captain Piller.
Yes. Your office has been keeping us busy.
What brings you here?
Theo Wijngaarden.
You're Jewish, aren't you?
Yes. Is that a problem for you?
Tragic what happened to your people.
My people?
Aren't we all Dutch?
Theo Wijngaarden. There.
Do you know this fellow?
A failure as a painter. Not much of an art dealer either.
What was your business with him?
He was a competent restorer. He did a job for me some time ago.
And your opinion of Han Van Meegeren?
Third-rate artist, first-rate opportunist.
Did he associate with the Germans floating around through the art scene?
- It would surprise me if he didn't. - And why's that?
He's a raging narcissist and a cunning devil.
Enjoy your day, Captain Piller.
Satan's piss.
Well, that turpentine's all that's left, thanks to your Nazi friends.
You're misinformed. I have no friends.
Yeah, I see why.
This smells drinkable.
That's my highest-grade paint stripper. Why not try it?
It'll give you a second asshole.
Well, that'd be interesting.
I'll tell you what, go to my house. I have a whiskey collection in the cellar.
Bring two cases here and I will teach you how to drink.
If I go to your house, you'll run.
My diabolical plan foiled.
Except I have no interest in running.
Do I look that stupid to you?
Of course not.
People like you have done more for this country than anybody.
Damn right.
So, what are you painting?
My deliverance. I don't know yet.
My subject is somewhat of a mystery to me.
It's quite liberating, you know.
To lay yourself bare and...
have someone paint you,
stroke by stroke.
- I see. - I suppose Theo was in love with me.
He said I had a timeless Dutch face that could grace the classics.
Which was his way of trying to get me into bed.
And did Theo introduce you to Han?
Yeah, I think so.
Yeah, I think he did.
Caroline.
The perfect choice for you.
Han loves to paint me.
You know, sometimes we don't... We don't even touch.
We don't need to.
And tell me, your husband, he doesn't mind?
Well, Han thinks that, deep down,
all men fantasize about their wives being seduced by another man.
Or woman.
Han understands the human animal better than anyone.
Is that why the Germans were so fond of him?
- Everyone... Everyone likes Han. - The photograph!
- He's... - Five! Come on.
- He's the life of the party. - Four! Three!
- What Germans attended his parties? - Two! One!
I never said they did.
Look... I don't know anything about Christ and the Adulteress.
Or any Germans.
And I have no idea where Theo is.
Who did Han consort most with?
Himself, me and his wife. Ex-wife.
Johanna. Where's she?
Somewhere in France.
She got tired of his joie de vivre.
But he gave her everything, you know. The houses, the money.
What other man would give his wife his entire fortune?
What did you find out?
Well, depending on who you ask,
he's either Satan or a saint.
Maybe I'll find something in Theo Wijngaarden's notebooks.
Yes, and check death records, too, please.
Yes, after I've finished the mail, captain.
Thank you.
Hello?
Dekker?
Piller, in here!
Walk towards me.
Stop!
Now, two steps to your right... Left.
One more step. Not that big. Half a step back.
- Here? - Yeah.
- Yeah? - Now walk slowly towards me.
Just do it.
You're gonna need this.
How much is there?
I don't know.
It started whispering to me, so I called you.
Having a conscience is a terrible affliction.
Yes, but our reward will come later.
You're damn right it will. I got two cases of liquor packed.
- No, no, no. - What?
- We're not taking any of that. - What? We're gonna let it rot?
Or leave it for some undeserving asshole? It's hooch.
- It's world-class hooch. - Yes, and you've had enough.
You've had plenty.
Just a nip, to make sure it wasn't an illusion.
I've been having a lot of those lately, and so have you, right?
Yes, and booze is not gonna help, my friend.
Damn well might.
This will bring back a bit of the old world, help us readjust.
Your wife just called. Should I call her back? What should I say?
Tell her I'll be late. I'll deal with her later.
New Year's Eve, two years ago. That was some night.
I bet. Who's who?
That's Cootje on my left,
and Johanna, my wife, on my right... My ex-wife.
Van Stuyvesande you've already met, the old fop.
And these are just friends of friends.
What about this one here next to the blond?
The kraut with his arm around her?
Wouldn't have a clue.
Are you sure about that?
Look at his face and that criminal haircut.
I wouldn't let that creep shake my hand.
Do you remember not shaking his hand?
Oh, Joe, you're so literal. Have you found Theo yet?
I don't want to talk about phantoms right now.
I want to talk about this Nazi spy
who's toasting to your good health in this photo.
My parties are lively.
People hear about free booze and free drugs and easy women,
and there were plenty of those there that night.
Well, he didn't just walk in your door, did he?
- Who brought him? - I don't know.
Jerome. Maybe it was Jerome.
- Jerome Heidjen? - Yes, but who cares?
Look at all these beautiful women
and you want to talk about some pig farmer from Muggendorf.
I think you have more than a drinking problem.
This pig farmer from Muggendorf was called Hermann Kempf.
He was a German intelligence officer,
and he used to recruit Dutch citizens to spy for him.
Hermann Kempf was very costly to the Dutch Resistance.
I am an artist, not a Nazi spy.
- Why did you hide the picture? - I didn't hide it.
- Maybe Johanna did before she left. - Kempf shows up at your party.
Shortly after, you take payment of 1.6 million guilders
from Hermann Göring, far more than even a Vermeer is worth.
And why? Because the Nazis are so generous?
No, because they're narcissistic.
Hitler already had two Vermeers in his collection.
Göring wanted to outdo his Führer.
He wanted to own the most valuable painting in the world, legitimately,
- which meant he had to pay for it. - Or perhaps you were paid
for something more than just the painting.
Such as?
Money to funnel to Nazi operatives in Holland,
using the art world as a front.
Jerome, it's Piller.
Just a moment.
Let me dress.
Good evening, Jerome.
Why don't you tell us about your connection to Van Meegeren?
It's been confirmed by others
that you arrived at his parties with Kempf,
that you were friends.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.
That's how I tried to deal with Nazis.
Is that how you dealt with Kempf?
You kept him close, brought him cherries from your garden?
I am speaking in general.
Van Meegeren is setting me up.
- He's got old scores to settle. - Like what?
Some things I said got back to him.
He was a rotten artist, a lecherous drunk.
That's bullshit. You had this club going, right?
You passed information and art up the chain to Berlin.
They lined your pockets and let you keep your pretty homes.
- No! - Did you work with Theo Wijngaarden?
You have their eyes.
So locked in your crusade.
You're not gonna listen to anything.
You just need someone to nail to a cross.
Now, that's a very interesting gun, isn't it?
That's the same gun the German officers carry.
And all that cash...
From your Christmas club, is it?
Come clean, I'll guarantee you a fair trial.
A fair trial? As if they won't rip me apart in the streets.
A Mussert. A traitor!
Tell me the truth. I promise I'll help you, Jerome.
Talk to me!
Joe? What's the matter?
You met Han Van Meegeren.
- You went to one of his parties. - I went to a lot of parties, Joe.
You know this.
- With Kempf? - Yes, with Kempf.
What is this? What do you want me to say?
I want you to tell me the truth.
The truth?
The truth is that I risked my life every day to survive, Joe,
and you left.
I did not leave.
I joined the Resistance. Had to go underground.
I'm a Jew, remember?
If I'd stayed, I would have endangered our family.
What did you do?
Went out to parties...
dressed as a whore.
We can't go on like this, Joe.
I need to get out of the city and go to my father's.
That's fine.
You've been going for six hours now.
Don't you get tired of it?
Inspiration is fleeting. You do not waste it.
All paint is merely ash and dirt,
but layered together in perfect harmony and you have a masterpiece
that will survive wars, civilizations, live longer than mountains.
And that, my friend, is as close to God as we get.
It's all child's play.
Exactly. Children know that secret, and we grow up and forget.
And the only way back is through alcohol or pain, madness, self-destruction...
Story of my life.
- You miss the war, don't you? - I miss the action, yeah.
But I do like my country being safe.
Why don't you paint something, my friend?
What do you say? I will make you a palette.
Sure. I'll paint you a masterpiece.
Well, look at that.
Yeah.
I'm still working on it.
- I know it's a little childish. - That was my whole point.
This has a truth and therein lies its power.
Your dock worker painted that.
It's awful.
And yet you can't take your eyes off it, can you?
I have absolutely no problem taking my eyes off it.
Why did your wife leave you?
She married an artist.
But then I became a wealthy man.
And you were fucking half the town, weren't you?
Well, yes.
Is your wife leaving you, Joe?
Yes.
Or we're leaving each other.
Never easy.
But, truthfully, marriage is an unnatural state.
It's hard for people to accept that, of course.
You know what?
I loved being married, but...
the war killed us.
The war is over.
Well, the Nazis are still at my house or...
Or their ghosts are, anyway.
My wife took a job...
as a secretary for a German officer.
It turns out it was Hermann Kempf, the man whose hand you refused to shake.
It was a way to funnel information to the Resistance,
and she was good.
She was very good. And her effort saved a lot of people.
The Germans trusted her.
But that trust had to be earned.
She had to sleep with this man to keep in his confidence.
I never asked her about it.
I asked her to quit.
But only once.
And now?
The past no longer exists to her.
She's cut it out like a tumor.
I'm sure there are things you have done in the Resistance
that you won't be telling your wife.
You should play piano again. Music, art, it's good for the soul.
Time is growing short, I think.
My painting's nearly finished and then I would like to show it to you.
Would you like a drink?
It's...
It's Van Meegeren's private stash.
Joe.
It's good.
It's empty.
Yes, probably is.
A walk might be good.
- He offered me a job spying for them. - One of De Klerk's?
He said I should think about my future
because the Allied Command is on the way out.
And what did you say to him?
I said that I would think about it.
You should think about your future.
Yes, I know.
This is me.
What do you do up there? In the dark?
I wait for the light.
Were you waiting for me?
Yes, I think I was.
Is this your husband?
Yes.
When he died, I... didn't cry.
Couldn't.
I couldn't feel anything.
I was numb.
And then the war was over and the Allies came, and I just continued.
Just like that.
And I was scared I might not feel anything anymore.
But now I see hope.
For all of us.
I don't know.
Leez and I are like strangers now.
It's...
- You're tired. - Yes, I am.
Want to lie down? Rest?
Yeah, I'd like that.
Lie with me?
Yes.
It will be light soon.
Yes.
We'll wait for it.
Yes, hello?
Sorry, boss. There's too many of them.
Closed for business. Fuck off.
Let Piller in.
And there he is.
You blew it, Piller.
Your bull-in-a-china-shop routine finally pissed off the big boys
and now this gallery is Dutch government's property.
- Okay, listen, I'm... - No, no, no.
Whatever you're selling, Piller, I don't want it.
I'm wrapping this whole thing up.
You're gonna cut Van Meegeren a deal, aren't you?
Yes.
You have a tin ear. I'm going to cut his throat.
Give the people some taste of blood. Isn't that what you wanted?
This guy is an honorary Nazi. Let him swing with the rest of them.
And I assumed he had friends in high places.
Yes, he does, and they'd all like to see his head on a plate.
Enough of this. Where is he?
In the prison, where he belongs. "Where is he?"
You put him up there like in some grand hotel.
Did he offer you money?
Actually, how much does it cost to buy Joe Piller? How much?
Hey! Get off! Get off.
Get him out. Get him out!
My hat, please.
That's sweet.
Hey, there's still a job here for you if you want it, sweetheart.
Joe.
Come on.
I had him. I goddamn had him.
And now he's locked in that dungeon and I can't get to him.
We no longer have jurisdiction over the prison,
and Allied Field Security has been disbanded.
- Nothing left I can do. - Not a single favor you can call in?
In your government's eyes, we're no longer liberators.
We're the nuisance keeping Holland from its future.
Maybe it's time to move on, for all of us.
Van Meegeren will pay for what he's done. Isn't that what you wanted?
Thanks to you, we got another one.
Help me.
Help.
Help me!
Traitor!
Help me!
Attention!
Aim!
Fire!
Thank you, Grandpapa.
Joseph.
- Bye, son. - Bye, Papa.
- Take care of yourself. - Yes, sir.
Promise me one thing.
- Take care of Mommy. - Promise.
- Promise? - Promise.
Get a kiss?
The ministry has complained.
- Hello. - Hello.
I'd give you a hug, but... Yeah.
I...
Can we take a walk?
Yeah, sure.
Yeah, so here I am.
Full tarred and feathered by the government.
At least it gives you plenty of fresh air.
I know I wasn't allowed, but I hate unfinished puzzles,
so I took all of Theo Wijngaarden's notebooks home with me
to have a closer look.
And I think I found something. Can I show it to you?
Yes.
Do you remember this one?
This is Cootje Henning drawn by Theo Wijngaarden.
Yes.
Do you know he died three months ago in Belgium?
That hardly matters now, does it?
And now... look at this one.
Girl with a Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer.
Exactly.
Look at this one.
- This one I don't know. - Also Vermeer. The Smiling Girl.
This one was a known Vermeer when he was still alive.
This one... was found in 1926
and authenticated in 1928 by Dirk Hannema.
Now it's in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.
All right. And why am I looking at it?
What do you see?
I see two women.
Look at their faces.
Look. They look like sisters.
They look almost the same.
So what? So, someone looked like Cootje Henning 280 years ago.
No. This painting is not 280 years old.
This is Cootje Henning.
So, you're saying it's a fake.
This is Cootje Henning
painted to look like a Vermeer by Theo Wijngaarden.
Theo Wijngaarden was not talented enough.
I know someone who can help.
Minna!
Look, it may not be past your bedtime,
- but it is certainly past mine. - Can we come in?
One moment, please. My wife.
Sir, are you a registered lawyer?
Minna, who is this man?
This is Joseph Piller. He's... He's a good man.
I see.
I am a registered lawyer, yes, but I haven't practiced for...
- You're hired. - Hired? My dear fellow...
I can offer you a dozen ration tickets.
My credentials.
This is my paralegal, Jacob.
You stink of mothballs. When did you last wear that?
My wedding. My name is Joseph.
No one is permitted to see him.
This facility is now governed by Dutch law, not military, yes?
Mr. Van Meegeren is entitled to legal representation,
and I'm his lawyer.
If you refuse me access, I will take it to a judge
and move to have the entire case dropped.
Call someone and tell them exactly that. Now!
Very good.
This painting that you sold to Göring,
Christ and the Adulteress,
it's not a Vermeer.
It's a fake. You painted it.
Finally.
Why didn't you just tell me?
You would have believed me?
The experts would have told you
it's impossible to fake the immortal Vermeer,
and I needed you to discover the truth for yourself.
Always best, don't you think?
And Theo's part in this?
Theo taught me a very important part of the process.
He is my only witness. Have you found him yet?
I am sorry to tell you this, but Theo is dead.
- How? Do you know? - I don't know how.
So, there was no spy ring?
I'm sure there was. I don't know.
I am merely a lost artist who found his calling imitating the masters.
And I stuck those Nazi pigs for all I could.
But you know the best part for me?
The experts swooning over my creations,
calling them the most exquisite works ever put to canvas.
That made Theo very proud.
How are we gonna prove any of this, now that Theo is dead?
He kept it safe.
We have your painting.
- Good. - And... it looks just like a Vermeer.
A Vermeer that was painted only two weeks ago.
That's right. There's more that must be done to it.
Now, this is the process that Theo and I perfected,
which fools the alcohol test used by the experts,
which means the painting can be authenticated.
Well, none of this may matter.
- Why? - Do you think
that the owners of these masterpieces will deface them on your behalf?
We only have to prove that one of them is a fake, surely.
Do you think that the experts who authenticated these paintings
and whose reputations will be destroyed...?
Can you wait a second, please?
Whose reputations will be destroyed, do you think they will help you?
I'm not asking them to help me. I'm asking you to help me.
Go to my basement! Everything you need is there!
Yeah, close it.
All right.
Stuyvesande, Wijngaarden.
Yes.
Christ and the...
- Christ and the Adulteress. - Yes.
It's no good. I can't remember.
And when I remember, I can't remember.
I lock up and become a stammering fool.
Mr. Bakker, you don't have to remember. I'll remember. And I'll do the talking.
I just need you to keep me straight on the legal stuff.
It says to be rough with it.
Please, find someone else.
You're the only one who I can trust.
You don't have a career to protect.
Why do you care so much about this man?
It's not the man, really. It's the fact that he's innocent.
How can I let him go to his death?
How could I face my son, knowing that?
You're not going to like this.
They say you've tried to shield Van Meegeren from the authorities.
De Klerks has put a bull's-eye on you.
De Klerks. Sad, little man.
- Traitor! - Traitor!
Dekker, stop. Stop. Stop!
Henricus Antonius Van Meegeren.
You are charged with collaborating with the enemy during a time of war.
How do you plead?
Not guilty, Your Honor.
Very well.
Proceed.
May it please the court, I am Special Prosecutor Maarten Wooning.
The government will prove to the court that Mr. Van Meegeren is guilty
of selling Dutch cultural treasures to Hitler's Reich,
for the purpose of enriching himself
and giving aid to the occupational government.
A capital offense for which he deserves the harshest punishment.
Thank you.
I'm Captain Jo...
I'm Captain Joseph Piller.
May it please the court.
I am former Captain Joseph Piller.
Are you a lawyer, Mr. Piller?
No, sir. Mr. Bakker here next to me is a lawyer.
But I have spent more time than anyone investigating Mr. Van Meegeren,
and I've come to the conclusion that he is innocent of these charges.
Hence, I was asked by the defendant to speak on his behalf.
- Very well. - We will prove
that Mr. Van Meegeren is not a collaborator
but indeed a patriot,
who swindled the Nazi regime out of a fortune from their war chest
by selling them a fake masterpiece.
How much did he pay you, Piller?
Quiet.
Mr. Wooning.
Mr. Henricus Van Meegeren.
We might save time if you just call me Han.
Very well. Do you recognize this receipt?
I would hope so. Those are my initials.
Please tell the court what it was for.
It is the bill of sale for Christ and the Adulteress.
That you sold to the second-highest ranking Nazi in the Reich
for the staggering sum of 1.6 million guilders.
Indeed. It is a unique painting.
I'd say. That's the most on record ever paid for a work of art.
If I'd offered a discount, he would have suspected it was a fake.
Johannes Vermeer was one of the greatest artists in history.
And you're asking this court to believe that you,
a man who could hardly sell a single picture with your own name on it,
somehow painted better than the Master of Delft
and outsmarted the world's most esteemed Vermeer experts?
Well-stated, sir.
All you've left me to say is yes.
I call Dirk Hannema to the floor.
Mr. Hannema, state your credentials for us.
I have been the director of the Boijmans Museum for eight years.
Before that, I was an art dealer for six of the top galleries in Holland
and also the chief critic for the Nederlander.
How many paintings have you verified in your career?
Hundreds.
- Come across any fakes? - Scores.
They're quite easy to spot.
In rare cases, the technique is adequate,
but none pass the chemical test used to verify their age.
You were one of the experts who verified Christ and the Adulteress.
Indeed, very thoroughly.
- Could it possibly be a fake? - Absolutely not.
But that's just your opinion.
I consulted with half a dozen published experts
who have spent two months with the painting,
cleaning and restoring it,
- and came to the same conclusion I did. - Which is?
Johannes Vermeer painted Christ and the Adulteress around 1660.
Do you know the defendant?
Mr. Van Meegeren and I have crossed paths in the art world.
And is there any way he could have created a Vermeer?
There is no way.
This was painted by the defendant around the time Adulteress sold.
Mr. Van Meegeren's art has always been imbued
with a base, almost pornographic nature.
It's fantasy to believe these two works were painted by the same man.
Thank you.
Mr. Piller?
Some ten years ago, you discovered another lost Vermeer.
- Is that correct? - Yes.
The Supper at Emmaus.
That made you... a bit of a celebrity, right?
Well, I suppose.
It's now considered Vermeer's greatest triumph.
Mr. Hannema, help me understand something.
Vermeer painted just over 30 works in the 1600s,
with no new works being discovered for the next 250 years.
Then, suddenly, six new works are found in as many years
and all of them traceable back to one person...
Mr. Van Meegeren.
What it tells me
is that Van Meegeren got the paintings from a single source,
a family, perhaps,
desperate to flee Europe before the war began.
Perhaps Jews.
And has any member of this mystery family come forward, Mr. Hannema?
Provenances are sometimes difficult to authenticate during wartime.
So, the answer to that question is no.
How do you determine if a painting is real or fake?
A deep intuition that cannot be put into words,
followed by scrupulous analysis of the painter's technique,
composition and color palette.
And should it pass this rigorous process,
the final arbiter is the application of alcohol
to a tiny portion of the canvas.
Oil paints dry and harden over time,
and by that, I mean decades, even a century.
If the paint dissolves, it's a fake. Let me demonstrate for you.
It's completely safe, I assure you.
No paint, no forgery.
And this technique is foolproof?
When it comes to oil paint, you simply can't cheat time.
Thank you, Mr. Hannema.
Ladies and gentlemen, The Supper at Emmaus.
It became my passion
after critics like Dirk Hannema destroyed my career years earlier.
So, you painted all these as sort of revenge?
And others which are not here today.
They are hanging in the Rijksmuseum, the Boijmans,
even in the National Gallery of Art
in the capital of the United States of America.
And I painted them not as revenge
but to bring more beauty into the world, more Vermeer.
There is simply not enough.
And tell us how you might pass the alcohol test Mr. Hannema described.
Same way I pass every alcohol test, with flying colors.
Mr. Van Meegeren, answer the question.
I use a very common plastic resin called Bakelite.
Invented in 1908, it was the first plastic.
And when it's heated, it perfectly emulates
the hardness and consistency of centuries-old paint,
so Mr. Hannema can douse it in alcohol all day if he so chooses
and he won't succeed in removing any of it.
And what challenges does one face?
Because the Bakelite is mixed into the pigment,
it makes it very difficult to compose with.
- And then? - I must also find canvas and frame
from the correct period. They are impossible to duplicate.
Once the canvas is stripped,
I then must create an unmistakably original work.
I have studied every one of Vermeer's brushstrokes.
I understand perfectly the pressure he applied,
the movement of his wrist,
even the hairs that he's chosen for each brush.
I also understand how he mixes his pigments
as well as how he interprets light.
So, you tried to emulate a genius?
Yes, but more than that, I must also weave the present into the past
to make the viewer my coconspirator,
so it not only fools the mind, it tugs at the heart.
Look at my lacemaker. Is she from Vermeer's time?
No. She is a jazz-age flapper. And she arouses you, yes?
And if you look closely at this young lady here,
you may recognize the face of Greta Garbo.
Göring was no different.
At the Olympics in '36, I learned of the kind of art he liked,
so when I painted Adulteress, I gave him his very own Nazi Jesus.
He believed he was gazing at a 300-year-old painting,
but as Narcissus, he would see his own eternity in that canvas,
his thousand-year Reich.
Never once occurred to him the painting was a fake.
And, Mr. Van Meegeren, your views on fascism?
I despise it intensely.
I believe every fascist deserves to be swindled.
Thank you.
All these exploits...
Yet there isn't a soul to corroborate any of it.
All we have is your fantastic story...
against the experts' facts.
And you declare yourself a hater of fascists,
yet you were a registered member
of the fascist-leaning Unity Party before the war.
- That was simply a matter of... - In fact, the chairman of the party
described you as, "One of our best contemporary artists,
motivated more by passion for our principles
than by desire for material gains."
They weren't Nazis. They were the wealthy and elite of society.
Closet fascists who saluted the Nazis when they took over.
They could afford to have flattering portraits of themselves painted,
and as a young artist, that was survival for me.
Is there anything else you haven't told me?
Nothing. I would have told you this if I'd remembered such nonsense.
You had the courtroom!
You got under their skin.
And now Wooning has taken away all your credibility.
And there's something else.
Wooning has found your ex-wife in France.
He's going to put her on the stand.
Well, this...
This is good news.
That is good news indeed.
Your ex-husband gave you most of the assets in the divorce.
- He did. - And what were those?
Couldn't tell you.
Fourteen houses,
seven plots of land in Laren,
two homes in Deventer,
a chateau in Monaco,
and 567 individual properties in Amsterdam,
as well as the millions of guilders stowed in the floorboards of your home.
Does that sound correct?
I suppose so.
For the record, Your Honor, most of Van Meegeren's real estate
was bought during the German occupation,
after the sale of Christ and the Adulteress.
Now, did your former husband ever intimate
that the pictures he sold by Vermeer, Hals, de Hooch,
were actually painted by his own hand?
No.
Though, if anyone could do it, it would be him.
He is relentless once he has an idea in his mind.
His artistic talents, I believe, are second to none.
He is a genius.
Do you recognize this photograph?
It's from a party we hosted shortly before our divorce.
Germans attended your parties often.
Rarely but it did happen.
- Thank you. - They were everywhere.
Were you married to him when he joined the National Unity Party?
Yes, we were.
Please tell us why he joined.
It was a long time ago.
Painting portraits was one of the few ways an artist could make a living.
And was your husband a believer in the party's doctrine?
My ex-husband is apolitical, agnostic, apathetic.
I can think of a few other adjectives...
- but here is not the place for them. - Thank you.
You are Van Meegeren's assistant?
I am.
And also his mistress.
We're... friendly, both professionally and personally.
- You were a confidante for years. - Yes.
Would you describe Mr. Van Meegeren as a bit of a showman,
someone that wanted to be seen, recognized?
What artist isn't?
Did you ever witness Han forge a Vermeer painting?
Yes, I did.
Many times.
Did you know that he then sold them for exorbitant sums?
- Of course. - That would make you an accomplice.
I understand.
What about this one? Did you see him paint it?
- I did. - In 1939, at his studio in Amsterdam.
Yes.
Han Van Meegeren spent all of 1939 at his villa in France.
- If I didn't see that one... - No further questions.
Mr. Piller?
Questions for Mrs. Henning?
No.
We will adjourn until tomorrow.
Proceed, Mr. Piller.
Your Honor, we have one final piece of evidence.
Very well but get on with it.
We call Dirk Hannema to the stand.
Mr. Hannema, do you recognize this painting?
Yes, it was brought to me recently for analysis
by the office of the Allied Command.
And what was your opinion of it?
Well, I subjected it to the usual tests and scrutiny...
I have your written statement here.
"The painting tentatively titled Boy Jesus in the Temple
is likely an early work in Vermeer's lost biblical series.
The work is estimated to be 280 years old
and is a major and important find."
- You wrote that? - Indeed. And I stand by it.
You didn't spend very long analyzing it, did you?
It was clearly part of the biblical series.
I was able to expedite the process...
It should be noted, Your Honor,
that Mr. Hannema has already put in a bid for this painting,
hoping to acquire it for the Boijmans Gallery.
And why is that relevant?
Your Honor, this painting is not even 1 year old.
It was painted by Han Van Meegeren while in my custody
at the Goudstikker Gallery.
That's utter nonsense.
My associates and I were there for the entire creation,
start till finish, not knowing its purpose at the time.
Mr. Van Meegeren painted this painting to try and save his life.
Are you saying that you then submitted it to Mr. Hannema for verification?
No, my assistant, Minna Holmberg, did, through the Allied Command.
But not until the process had been completed in full.
What does that mean?
That means that Mr. Van Meegeren painted the painting,
and Mr. Dekker and I assisted him in aging it.
The process is quite intricate,
but, as you can see, it is very convincing.
Another fantastic story!
Your Honor, if I may, I would ask the court to observe
the second figure on the left is in fact Captain Joseph Piller,
my jailer, whom I painted in the style of Vermeer.
Quiet!
There is some likeness between Mr. Piller and the subject,
but is that proof?
It could be purely coincidental.
- You need your eyes tested. - Mr. Van Meegeren!
You might find in this courtroom several men,
who, with some cloth on their head, resemble this disciple.
Your Honor, there is enough here
to warrant a more radical and foolproof test.
Please, take a tiny scraping of this painting
and test it for the presence of phenol formaldehyde or Bakelite,
a compound invented less than 40 years ago.
We don't need...
In my chambers.
Even if Van Meegeren did paint that thing,
it doesn't mean that Göring's Vermeer, for which he stands trial, is a fake.
Test both paintings. Test all of them.
These are priceless cultural treasures, and to deface them is totally...
Your Honor, you're talking about paintings.
I'm talking about a man's life.
I... am not persuaded.
This isn't a trial. This is a stage play.
Someone who just wants Van Meegeren out of the way.
Someone whose wife he slept with.
Someone who didn't get a good cut of bacon.
- Oh, please. - Let me tell you this.
They're persuaded, and when they hear the full truth,
after you've thrown Van Meegeren to the wolves,
they will be coming for you next.
Are you threatening me?
Yes, you're goddamn right I am.
You jumped-up spiv.
Now, consider this a first...
and final warning.
You've been played, Piller.
Van Meegeren is the magician and you're his greatest trick.
Maybe this case is all about you.
Did you get a taste for the good life?
You think he's gonna give you a pile of cash
to secure your family's future?
Good luck with the verdict!
That deliberation is not gonna take very long, is it?
I think we'd stand a chance.
They believed that painting.
Look at all these people.
They need a win.
Upon careful consideration of all the facts presented,
it is the unanimous conclusion of this court...
that Han Van Meegeren...
is guilty of wartime collaboration with the enemy.
And I hereby sentence to...
Quiet!
And I hereby sentence him to death.
Quiet!
He doesn't deserve that!
Order! Silence!
Come on!
Piller!
What is he doing?
Stop him! Stop him!
"H.V.M."
Han Van Meegeren. This painting... is a fake.
They're all fakes.
Only one minute ago,
these paintings were considered sublime and priceless.
Now they are worthless and not one brushstroke has changed.
Quiet!
You kids don't know how to drink anymore.
Another round.
Who are you calling a kid?
Thank you.
Surprise.
May I come in, just for one minute?
Thank you.
Congratulations are in order.
Please don't tell me you're here to give me the Medal of Merit.
No, no, no. I'm here, actually, to give you this.
A souvenir.
My assistant came across it when we were packing up the gallery.
It's a collection of Van Meegeren's art.
Yes, I know it. The Americans found it in Hitler's private library.
The dedication page might interest you.
The people have their hero.
I'm done with this case, but what about you?
We are so pleased you came, Joe.
Joseph, look at this. Look at the light on their faces.
Our story is all over the world.
We have given Holland wings to rise from the ashes.
A victory over darkness.
People want more life again.
They want to laugh, to drink, to have hope.
They want to dream of a better day.
And thanks to you, they can and they will.
You got what you wanted. You enabled them to see the truth.
And here it is, in beautiful black and white.
You're quite the hero, it seems.
I suppose this is more adulation than even you imagined.
Are you kidding me? I always imagined it. Please sit down.
Listen... Joseph.
I never could have trusted anyone in the way I trusted you.
I hope you understand that.
Perhaps, then, you can help me understand this.
"To my beloved Führer,
in grateful tribute.
Han Van Meegeren."
Very touching gift to Adolf Hitler
from Holland's most famous hater of the Nazis.
In the colonies of yesteryear, we were the Nazis, yeah?
We raped, we murdered, we took slaves.
We even threw babies onto fires.
And the statues of the men who led to those glorious exploits
stand proudly in our public spaces.
The tide comes in, the tide goes out. And we do what we can to survive.
To keep the hope alive.
In all our glorious colors,
including gray.
Bravo. To art.
I never really cared about art.
But now I know that all truly great artists
bravely walk through the fire of critics and doubting sheep
to claim their place in history.
And that is black and white.
And that is why the merchants place such high value on art.
They get to possess their own small piece of an incorruptible soul.
But you could have claimed your place in history as an artist.
Your own name and right next to Hals, Rembrandt, Vermeer even.
God gave you all the talent in the world.
Yet you went and wasted it all away.
Guess you weren't brave enough to walk through the fire.
Joseph, please.
I did trust you, I did.
That's why I stood up for you.
And it almost cost me everything.
Enjoy your victory, Han.
Our victory.