penberthyp In the eleventh hour Merion township forgets it's gripes about bus traffic and realizes it might lose something valuable. After forbidding the Museum to build a 56 car parking lot in a very petty fashion the neighbors of the foundation are portrayed as victims of the move at the end of the movie. I'm sorry. Glanton may be a clod, but he was forestalling what turned out to be the inevitable move of the collection to Philadelphia. Would you rather have the art tour the world temporarily or have it moved permanently to Philadelphia? When you don't bend you break. This is a very sad loss, but I can't help feel that there is no righteous side in this saga. Poor Merion? You mismanaged your asset, ditto Lincoln University. It's sad that there was no brilliant person to manage the estate and oversee it's protection. Incompetence loses to a powerful people with tourist dollars in their eyes.

usrosie A remarkable, thought provoking documentary that I thoroughly enjoyed, even though I had no prior knowledge of the events – already well explained in previous reviews.I couldn't help but bring to mind the putative words of Pretty Boy Floyd:"Well, as through the world I've rambled, I've seen lots of funny menSome will rob you with a six-gun, and some with a fountain pen".There's an awful lot of robbing going on here, poignantly underlined in the scene as flamboyant signatures are exchanged by the mayor of Philadelphia and the Barnes Foundation as they signed their 'deal'. I can't say that any of the robbers in this film were particularly funny. In fact every time the story cried out for the other side of the story, a message on the screen said so-and-so declined to be appear on film, or declined to be interviewed, or declined to speak on the record… whatever. I'm not sure how the film can be accused of being one sided when the other side wouldn't say anything. Actually the cowardly shame of their silence spoke volumes…Kudos do, however, go to governor Rendell for actually appearing on film and putting his view, sincere as it appeared, although quite clearly having little regard for the fundamental issues at root – the clearly stated wishes and the will of Dr. Barnes about his art collection. In these reviews I've seen arguments about how it's going to be seen buy more people, in a more accessible location etc. But it's quite obviously not what Dr Barnes wanted for his collection. Call me old fashioned but I think his wishes should have been be accorded priority.

hcoursen I enjoyed this -- knowing nothing at all about the subject before I watched the film. I don't think there's any doubt that the big-money came in and purchased the result it wanted, in conjunction with the affable Ed Rendell, who could make about anything seem reasonable. But -- the inaccessibility of the collection does seem to be an issue that the film did not really address. What about transportation? Parking? The impact of a density of visitors on a residential neighborhood? The film did not resolve these issues. A highhanded 'theft' may actually be in the interests of the greater number of people. One flaw in the design of the film is that -- having presented early on the vigorous objections of the neighbors in Merion to the crowds and buses coming down the residential roads to the Barnes -- Argott did not go back to them for their reaction to the move to the city. What did they think of that? We never know.

charleski The scenario in brief: Albert C. Barnes is an idiosyncratic, but very wealthy man who has a good eye for art in the early 20th century and manages to snap up a large collection of post-impressionist paintings that becomes very important. Instead of opening this up to public view, he hides it away in a suburb on Pennsylvania, accessible only to a select elite. If we are to believe this documentary, his act of cultural kidnapping was founded on personal animosity towards the eminences running the public works in Pennsylvania in his day. Hardly an excellent reason to deprive the nation of the opportunity to view great works of art.But Barnes is not content with depriving his contemporaneous generation of these works and decides to drag his collection with him to the grave. He draws up an elaborate will that sets up a foundation that will keep the paintings sequestered away, mouldering under the gaze of small groups of specially-selected 'students'.The film covers the efforts made to wrest control of this vitally important collection away from a group of preppy blue-bloods who wanted to remain true to Barnes' exclusive vision. We are shown a series of sniffy elitist aristos whining as the barriers that Barnes set up are slowly broken down. We are told, in shocked tones, that one common gent decided to leave the exhibition after remarking that Reubens' paintings contained a lot of fat ladies (gasp! - the implication is clearly that mere commoners should not be allowed to view and pass judgement on these cultural fetishes).Finally, the Foundation teeters on bankruptcy and elected officials step in to ensure that the collection is maintained for the public good. In a final act of cultural vandalism they move it away from the tiny and vastly inappropriate secluded mansion Barnes provided and house it in a modern gallery where anyone can visit and enjoy these treasures. At this point the chosen talking heads erupt in a fury - the idea of common people leaving the imprint of their common eyeballs on work that should be restricted to the privileged elite is clearly beyond bearing.Make no mistake, the intent of this film is to argue the case for the Barnes elitists, and it spends a lot of time spewing rants about how evil it was to open up the collection. I knew very little of the Barnes Foundation before seeing it, but based solely on the information the film provided it is blatantly obvious that the terms of Barnes' legacy had to be overthrown.This art did not belong to Barnes, he only got to hold it for a while. This art belongs to the world, and the world finally has the chance to enjoy it.