The Thomas Crown Affair (1968)

Introduction

Before there was Ocean’s Eleven, before the suave heist genre became a staple of modern cinema, there was The Thomas Crown Affair — an elegantly cool, visually daring, and provocatively stylish crime romance that became a defining film of the late 1960s. More than just a caper film, it's a chess match — literally and figuratively — between a charming thief and the brilliant investigator trying to catch him.

With Steve McQueen in perhaps his suavest role and Faye Dunaway at her most radiant, the film operates as a glamorized psychological duel, wrapped in the trappings of upper-class rebellion and chic aesthetics. It’s not just about the heist — it’s about how you steal, why you steal, and who’s playing who.

Plot Summary

Thomas Crown (Steve McQueen) is a wealthy Boston businessman who, bored with his opulent life, masterminds a perfect bank robbery — orchestrated with precision and carried out by hired professionals who never meet him. He doesn’t need the money; he wants the thrill, the intellectual stimulation.

After the $2.6 million heist, insurance investigator Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway) is brought in to find the culprit. Beautiful, brilliant, and ruthless, she zeroes in on Crown almost immediately — but instead of immediately pouncing, she engages him, flirts with him, plays cat-and-mouse. A seductive battle of wits and wills ensues, as both begin to suspect they’ve met their match — both emotionally and intellectually.

But can either of them win without losing the game — or themselves?

Themes and Analysis

Crime as Art and Sport

Thomas Crown doesn’t steal for need or greed — he steals for the game. The heist isn’t gritty or desperate; it’s clean, aesthetic, and symmetrical, like a piece of art. The film is fascinated with control, symmetry, and intelligence — and Crown uses his wealth to play out fantasies of control in a world that otherwise offers him nothing new. The crime becomes a kind of aesthetic expression.

The Seduction of Intelligence

Much of the film’s electricity comes not from guns or violence, but from conversation, suggestion, and strategy. Vicki Anderson’s pursuit of Crown is more than professional — it’s cerebral seduction. The famous chess scene is a metaphorical climax: a tense, slow-burn interplay of glances, moves, and innuendo. It’s one of the sexiest scenes in 1960s cinema, achieved with almost no physical contact.

Identity, Ego, and the Power of Choice

Crown’s motivations are elusive — is he a romantic? A nihilist? An egotist playing god? The film leaves questions lingering. Meanwhile, Vicki’s arc wrestles with her identity as a hunter of criminals versus her desire for connection and thrill. The ending’s ambiguity is not just romantic — it’s existential.

Performances

Steve McQueen as Thomas Crown

McQueen brings a controlled coolness and subtle arrogance to Crown, portraying him as a man who has mastered every game but is still searching for something more. This is McQueen at his most refined — trading the rugged, blue-collar characters of Bullitt or The Great Escape for a tailored suit and a Mona Lisa smirk. His quiet performance is filled with layers: charm masking isolation, brilliance masking restlessness.

Faye Dunaway as Vicki Anderson

Dunaway is simply mesmerizing. Her Vicki is sophisticated, smart, and seductive — but also emotionally complex. She’s not just a femme fatale; she’s a full-bodied character wrestling with power, vulnerability, and temptation. Dunaway holds her own against McQueen with ease, often outshining him in scenes where verbal and emotional dexterity is the weapon of choice.

Their chemistry is palpable but not cheap. It’s magnetic because it feels earned — built not on passion alone, but on mutual respect and suspicion.

Direction and Style

Director Norman Jewison infuses the film with an avant-garde flair that reflects its characters' psychology. It’s flashy without being frivolous. Jewison uses split-screen techniques (inspired by multi-image presentations at the 1967 Montreal Expo) to show simultaneous action and perspectives — most notably in the bank heist and the chess sequence.

The pacing is deliberate, elegant. Jewison isn’t interested in shootouts or explosions — his suspense is born from strategy, implication, and aesthetic tension.

Cinematography and Editing

Haskell Wexler’s cinematography is lush, crisp, and stylish. The framing and colour palette echo the composure of Thomas Crown’s world — ordered, sleek, often cold. But the visual energy intensifies when Vicki and Crown are together, hinting at disruption under the surface.

The editing, especially in the split-screen sequences, was ground-breaking. Paul Hirsch (who would go on to edit Star Wars) helped execute transitions that feel like jazz riffs — precise yet improvisational.

Music

Michel Legrand’s score is sensual and moody, a perfect match for the film’s tone. His Oscar-winning song “The Windmills of Your Mind”, which plays over a wordless montage of Crown flying a glider, captures the film’s underlying melancholy and metaphysical questions. The melody is circular, hypnotic — much like the game Crown and Vicki are playing.

Legacy and Cultural Impact

The Thomas Crown Affair was a hit in 1968, especially praised for its style and McQueen’s performance. But its true legacy is its influence on the caper and romantic thriller genres.

It inspired not just the 1999 remake (starring Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo), but countless films that mix elegance with edge — from Out of Sight to Ocean’s Eleven to Mission: Impossible. Its approach to erotic tension through intellect, rather than just sensuality, has been copied but rarely matched.

And its ambiguous ending — more about character than plot — paved the way for a new kind of morally complex cinema.

Conclusion

The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) is not a typical heist movie. It’s a cerebral dance, an ode to stylish rebellion, and a battle of wits where attraction is the most dangerous weapon. With its ground-breaking visuals, iconic performances, and enigmatic atmosphere, it remains a classic not just of 1960s cinema, but of intelligent, romantic thrillers.

It’s a movie about people too smart for their own good, too beautiful to be believed, and too human to walk away unscathed.

Final Verdict: A stylish, seductive, and intellectually charged classic that elevated the crime caper into a chess match of desire and identity.