The Burnt Orange Heresy seems intended to have a similar effect on painting as The Ninth Gate had on books. However, while Polanski's film featured actual objects of artistic value, this movie contains very little genuine art; what is present barely registers. James Figueras (Claes Bang) calls himself an art critic, but comes across more like a promoter. He’s written a book called The Power of the Critic and gives lectures on that same topic. During one such lecture, he tells "an oratorical gesture": a fabricated story about a troubled Norwegian artist who, haunted by portraits of Nazi officers he was compelled to paint in a concentration camp, vowed never to use a brush again and started finger painting. The tale is so unbelievable that the audience recognizes it as false before James even acknowledges it himself. The point is that "because of what I, as a critic and an expert, have shared with you ... I have shaped your experience of this painting ... I single-handedly made you believe that this [a nondescript painting that James himself “slapped down without any real care or inspiration”] was a masterpiece.” His argument relied solely on appealing to the emotions of his audience. His story, whether true or not, offered no objective analysis, no "expert" opinion. A more convincing demonstration of the critic's power would have involved detailed discussions of technique, style, and composition, rather than presenting a sentimental narrative whose impact comes from the storytelling itself, which undermines James’s credibility as an art critic. Perhaps he should have titled his book The Power of Rhetoric instead. It’s fair to say that James is ultimately portrayed as a fraud (though this isn't necessarily problematic; my issue lies in how obvious he is). His boasting about a power he doesn’t possess is a sign of weakness, an irony the character misses but not necessarily the filmmakers. They depict him as someone who steals and abuses drugs; his claims of authority then seem like typical behavior for an addict — no different than when he says "I can end it [his pill-taking habit] ... I'm just waiting for the right moment." Unfortunately, this is about the only thing the filmmakers get right. The movie falters with the introduction of wealthy art collector Joseph Cassidy (Mick Jagger appearing uncomfortable), who sits on the board of “The Debney Trust;" in that role, he’s tasked with "to offer the great man accommodations" — referring to reclusive painter Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland). Debney lives in a "dilapidated little house ... at the edge of [Cassidy’s] property," but shows no interest in his host, repeatedly declining Cassidy's daily lunch invitations. Cassidy enlists James to obtain a Debney painting in exchange for an exclusive interview with “the great man”; Cassidy’s offer is part bribe, part blackmail, and mostly nonsensical. It seems that Cassidy has never heard of the saying 'if the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain'; it remains unclear why he doesn’t simply visit Debney himself at his dilapidated house. It’s as puzzling as why he doesn’t attempt to bribe Debney directly with something other than lunch. The older man admits to a fondness for "a local widow," and this would likely be an easier incentive; after all, he has a “charitable trust” named after him. Ultimately, it becomes clear that Cassidy wants an art thief, not an art critic (as much as James can be considered one). In Cassidy’s defense, Debney turns out to be quite eccentric, and James will discover there's a significant reason why Cassidy can’t get his hands on Debney’s work — a reason that is “really, really stupid.” I won’t reveal it, but it’s even less sensible than the story about the Norwegian finger painter.

Source on TMDB