There are few professions that I think I have a less realistic impression of than that of jewel thief. Here’s what I think being a jewel thief is typically like:
You start off as a rough and tumble kid, then you’re taken under the wing of a Crusty Older Jewel Thief who had left the game, except for this one last chance. At the big score. Then you train in his hideout for a while, eventually winning his respect and learning from the greatest thief of his generation. Or maybe you gather a dozen or so of your closest friends, each with their own expertises and back stories that will all prove essential. Even the explosives guy, who, you would think is really not that important in a field that demands minimal detection. Or maybe you’re just a mischievous rich guy looking to have a little fun, perhaps to settle some sort of wager or win a contest with your other rich guy friends, but really to impress an ex-girlfriend who you never stopped loving.
The point is, for this job, a little lock picking, spraying security cameras and shutting down alarm systems isn’t going to be enough to get it done. You’ll have to get on a sexy skintight catsuit. Or maybe a $5,000 suit. You’re also going to have to do that kickass thing where you lower yourself from a building like in Mission Impossible. And then go through an electronic version of those things that football players high step through to increase their agility as Crusty Older Jewel Thief continues to stare at your ass. And come the day of the actual thievery, you’ll put all your training to use, then hang glide out of the top floor of the world’s tallest building in Kuala Lumpur to freedom.
After we entirely skip over the part where you somehow convert some of the world’s rarest, most valuable jewels into cash by presumably selling them at the local pawn shop or to an eccentric billionaire–nobody can bail you out of a jam quite like an eccentric billionaire–you settle into a beach-based retirement. If this is a small indie film: a robot takes care of you in your old age.
